Spencer Tweedy
I'm not as sad as I look in my picture.
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Power
Yesterday morning, a fifteen-minute storm of biblical proportions ruthlessly thrashed the city of Chicago. What it lacked in duration was made up for in amplitude; for a good quarter-hour, our poor lil’ town was battered so violently, I couldn’t see past our neighbor’s backyard. When the torrent let up, I learned why people say “the calm after the storm.” The winds dropped from eighty miles-an-hour to zero. The power went out.
(our neighbor’s fence)
I didn’t think it would be out long—normally after a storm, they get it back on relatively fast. I tried to go back to sleep but soon noticed the first and certainly not least effect of no power: no air-conditioning. I feel a little bit obnoxious saying that, because out of all the devices and technologies us privileged Americans (Chicagoans, specifically) weren’t able to use that day, air-conditioning is easily the one I’ve most overlooked as a privilege. It’s one that most people don’t have on any given day. But I still couldn’t sleep.
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Every week, three music therapists from MJHS Hospice and Palliative Care crisscross the city and suburbs to sing songs to the dying. With guitars strapped to their backs, a flute or tambourine and a songbook jammed in their backpacks, they play music for more than 100 patients, in housing projects, in nursing homes and even in a lavish waterfront home. The time for chemotherapy and radiation is over.
Music therapists. Heroes.
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Some people launched this DIY hot-air balloon while we were at the beach for fireworks last weekend. It disappeared into the forest a few minutes after. Hope that fire went out…
Update: Look at this.
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Polaroid taken by my German friend, David, at Solid Sound. Impossible Project film.
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Happy 4th of July tomorrow! Amurrica!
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Took a trip to the park with Sammy and Joey. They like to swing.
My phone was, in fact, licked in the making of this film.
