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Published: November 19th 2009
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BrenGiordanis
Brennan at Giordanis I hate my family for neglecting my ass. Or should I say, “neglecting to give me an ass.” Bad genes. It’s not normally a problem, but when you have a 57lb pack on you, and are carrying three other heavy items, it starts to wear on your bones if you sit down for a long while without an ass.
Let me apologize for glazing over details, but that’s exactly what I did in each of these cities:
To put it more simply: family, pizza, monuments and jazz, subways.
I had an excellent three-day visit in Denver, with snowball fights, happy children, and museums. Swilled some brew at the Koopwyn Brewery across from the train station, and hopped on a masochisticly long train ride to Chicago.
When you travel by train, you have plenty of time to think. Most of the time I spend wondering WHY I decided to travel by train. I’m so sick of babysitting all this crap I brought with me.
After struggling with inconsistent wifi at the Chicago train depot (largest in the country BTW), I asked the desk man where I could find some famous deep dish pizza. He gave me excellent directions to Giordano’s, just five
blocks away - and also gave me a full on hand-jive handshake, which made me feel pretty cool.
I stumbled along, mixing between the masses of business professionals on the streets of Chicago. More than once I was asked for directions by misguided people - unable to be of assistance. It made me smile that I look approachable enough for timid travelers.
The pizza took about 35 minutes. Luckily, I had three hours. It was worth it; it still is. The medium pizza cost about $28. It said it would feed 3-4, but I was alone… so I’ve been carrying this pizza around for the last two days, and satisfying every hunger with world class Italian gastronomy. Speaking of gas… I haven’t been able to refrigerate it the entire time, and that last slice in there is starting to look odd.
Perhaps I’m ready to call it a pie. Yes, I’ve decided. I have gotten the full value of this. It has served its purpose.
Lat night was brilliant. I chatted with Dennis Kucinich’s press secretary for a while, and he thought I should share the Congressman’s vision for The Department of Peace with the people I meet on my
travels. He gave me a one-sheet on its elements, and I will be glad to oblige. It’s funny because Erin actually designed the logo for the Department of Peace when we were working on Kucinich’s campaign last year. I asked if they had a logo associate with the project to check if they were using her work, but he couldn’t find one.
After my visit, I went to the Jefferson Memorial, where I sat down for a while and got inspired. That man sweated brilliance, and I laid around and made some journal entries. Next I took the 80 train to a place called Brooklynd, in NE Washington. I found a jazz club and sat down at the bar. Met an interesting girl name Wakarisha, who said she would have given me a ride home if she wasn’t going the opposite way. I offered to dance, hoping for the chance to confirm certain stereotypes for this homogenous crowd, but she said she’d rather watch me. After a stop at the Capitol Brewing Company, I stumbled in drunk and forgot to take my shoes off when I walked into the studio I was sharing with my friend Victoria.
Victoria could hardly
Coal
Coal car in Eastern Pensnsylvania veil her near rage at my offense the next morning, as this is perhaps the most agitating thing in the world to her, and she’d told me already, twice, to remove my shoes. I actually realized this when I laid down to sleep, and it kept me up worrying about my offense, and secretly plotted to place my shoes over by the door as if I’d remembered. She knew better. Oh well, she still makes great French toast.
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