Sun, Feb 25, 2001 10:27PM -0600

I heard a really, really cheesy song first thing on the radio this morning called I Never Had A Dream Come True by S Club 7. Another example of synchronicity, I suppose. Only this and nothing more.

It was terribly windy today, with arctic blasts of up to 50 mph. This was a change from yesterday with the freezing cold rain that just turns into sheets of ice once it touches the ground. Just when you think Nature has tried it all, she always comes up with some new permutation of inclement weather. This is very difficult for my mind to comprehend. In L.A., there really are only a few kinds of weather, and it's an extremely rare day where more than one type occurs. And even then, one of them is usually "sunny, clear skies, with highs in the upper 70s." I tell you, the only way for a Californian to stay sane in the Midwest is to appreciate the scant few beautiful moments of actually nice weather.

In any case, I went to the Art Institute today (hence the reference in the title--go watch "Ferris Bueller's Day Off" [IMDb entry] and listen to Louder than Bombs by the Smiths..) I haven't been there since May 1998, which is when I went to Chicago for the first time (obviously not counting the time when I was three from which I can't remember a damn thing) and had no inkling that I might spend a life-altering chunk of time here. I went with my friend Eugene that time, and I still remember the spot where we watched this guy propose to this girl in front of a water-lily painting by Monet (the one with the Japanese-style bridge). And it gives me the heebie-jeebies to think that Eugene himself is getting married to my friend Aimee in about 500 days (give or take).

I spent most of my time looking at the Impressionists. I think I've lost my obsession with Monet now that I realize he was a water-lily obsessed lunatic. Renoir is kind of growing on me, though. I wasn't in a really Surreal mood today, and pretty much abstained from the few Dalis that they have. I also had a gander at some 17th century stuff. Unfortunately, I forgot the name of the painter, but the subject matter of the set of paintings I spent some time on was a poem called "Jerusalem Delivered" by Torquato Tasso, which was a fictional, romanticized account of a knight going on the Crusades. It's amazing how our modern culture's idea of beauty has changed. Personally, though, I still prefer voluptuousness to anorexia and bonyness.

After the Art Institute, we went ice skating for fifteen minutes (at least we only had to pay $2), and then went to eat at Eat at Joe's on Irving Park Blvd. All in all, it was a good day. But I'm still in an emotional sinkhole. One can't have everything, I suppose.

l i n k s