“Hark, the herald angels sing — but as for us, my dear, I can’t recall a single thing we’re celebrating this year.” Jenny Owen Youngs, “Things We Don’t Need Anymore”

I was walking home through the park adjacent to my apartment at about midnight last night, trying (and failing) not to look like a total goofball as I tried to keep myself from slipping, and I noticed a woman about my age sitting on a bench. I thought that was a little strange, given the hour and the temperature, but I didn’t think anything of it. Initially I flashed her a non-threatening grin, but as I kept walking, I noticed that she was crying. I stopped and turned around, asking her if she was all right. She popped her headphones out and turned her head.

“I’m sorry, what did you say?” she asked.
I repeated my question, “Are you all right?”
She laughed a little. “Yeah, I’m OK.”
I smiled sympathetically and turned to continue on my way.
“You’re a good person for stopping. Happy holidays,” she said.
I turned back around. “Of course, sweetheart.”

But I’m not a good person. My first instinct was to reach for my cell phone, like I do whenever I’m in the Loop and have to pass through the gauntlet of Greenpeace activists, or with those religious nutcases handing out pamphlets on Belmont. And now I feel like a total shit. I’m genuinely concerned; I want to go back.

I wish God existed so she could forgive me.
(Keep reading…)

Filed by Trevor at 1:11 pm under Social Issues, Love, Depression
1 Comment

It’s the early-morning reveille,
a stack of letters never sent –
folded neatly, stored with care –
a half-depleted stash of votives,
a table burgeoning to bursting.

It’s a bottomless reservoir of patience
for all manner of injury –
my armor,
my savior,
my energy.

Filed by Trevor at 12:58 am under Love
No Comments

It’s not like I’ve been slacking. Really. I have not had a day off in WEEKS. And between the fact that I’m never home and the fact that when I am, I’m in the midst of a very moody, angry depression brought on by grief, I’ve not been much in the mood to write about anything. My cats have even noticed. They are cuddling more with me than usual. But maybe that’s just the fact that it’s getting cold.
(Keep reading…)

Filed by Devon at 12:03 pm under Atheism, Damn Hippies, Love
3 Comments

Some are beginning to doubt of her existence. Perhaps her clever little page on the right side of this website is but a ruse, a childlike tale to give us all hope, like the Easter Bunny, the Tooth Fairy, Santa Claus, or God.

But I’m here tonight to say yes, Virginia, there is a Devon. She exists as certainly as love and generosity and devotion exist, and you know that they abound and give to your life its highest beauty and joy. Alas! how dreary would be the world if there were no Devon. She is alive and well and needs your love. And she needs to get her ass back over here and set us all straight again.

Until that happens, I give you the fabled Unabridged Oeuvre of Devo; read at your great pleasure:

Hello World!
Some Self-Involved Rambling from the Makers of Facebook™
Don’t Cry Out Loud. No, Please Don’t.
Hummmm…
Hmmm…
Incredible
Opera Nerdiness
The Manifesto

That is all.

Filed by Trevor at 11:58 pm under General, Shameless Plugs, Fightin' Words, Love
No Comments

To begin, welcome to Chelsea (!) and her marvelous musings on Craigslist Missed Connections. I don’t spend much time reading them, but I too always assume they’re for me.

A recent encounter at the lake front running path reaffirmed my suspicion that some of those listings are for me, and that they were perhaps just a little more than a missed connection.
(Keep reading…)

Filed by Bil at 1:29 pm under Pop Culture, Racism, Homophobia, Love
4 Comments

Wow. Here we go. My name is Chelsea. I write here now.

I figured I’d just jump right in and share my latest internet obsession/way to kill time at work. I’ve been spending a lot of billable hours on this particular site recently, and every day I grow more intrigued by the sheer humanity on display. The page is updated a hundred times a day by thousands of individual authors, who have no qualms about letting the world in on their desperation, flirtation, loneliness, heartbreak, and triumph. Some of the entries are so personal and so badly spelled that they could have been ripped directly from the pages of a fifteen-year old emo kid’s diary.

I am talking, of course, about the Missed Connections page on Craigslist.
(Keep reading…)

Filed by Chelsea at 9:59 am under General, Pop Culture, Love
2 Comments