So a Cheek ritual on the first and last days in the month of October is to sing U2's song of the same name:
October And the trees are stripped bare Of all they wear What do I care
October And kingdoms rise And kingdoms fall But you go on...and on...
U2's October, Live from Red Rocks
The tune starts mournfully, but picks up energy. Hope, even. It's the perfect welcoming musical salewt to Autumn.
The Scorpio Horrorscope is late, but just in before October's end. Urchins celebrating include Cheyenne, MacRae, and Adira. Order peeps include SeattleTroy and my stepmom cusper. Happy horse's arse day to each of you!
October has been a month of endless Cheek travel. This week found me in Chicago, and while my sinuses tried to thwart city enjoyment, the early part of my visit couldn't be dimmed.
Stayed at the Hyatt on Wacker, where my room's view was:
Managed to talk work peeps into experiencing one of Cheek's favorite things: a stroll down Michigan Avenue for a drink at the top o' the 'cock - the Hancock Tower, that is. The trip up the elevator to the 96th floor's Signature Lounge seriously wounded Cheek's ears - the left one hasn't cleared since the descent into Atlanta on the way back from Vegas 2 weeks ago. Ouch.
A clear night afforded a fantastic view for the 'cock virgins in the group and distracted from ear pain. Yummy pupus shared and wine quaffed. A quick stop in the loo on the way out was pre-empted by the chicks and dude exiting. Apparently the men's doesn't have the floor to ceiling windows, and he HAD to see what all the fuss was about. His companions peed with the door open so as not to miss the view of the Navy pier:
The mosey back found us stopping at the Intercontinental's Eno, a wine / cheese / chocolate foodgasm. A dark chocolate knosh and a Malbec slosh was the thing. Returning to the hotel room, I spied what I'd seen aloft from the Hancock tower - the Wrigley building lit up for Breast Cancer Awareness month (so was the Hancock and the Sears Tower):
If your bidness life ever resembles these pics, you *MUST* watch this StrongBad e-mail on business trips. Baltimore, Las Vegas, now Chicago (dang, WHEN will that junior executive promotion come through?); there'll be no "Expense Account Ones" for me as I'm all congested 'n' stuff still from bad Vegas air.
Unless you're living under a rock, you know that October is breast cancer awareness month. I'm angling to score one of the kewl pink ties that the male Delta flight attendants are sporting.
As my 40th approaches, I know that regulah mammograms are ahead. Already had the baseline one a few years back. But regular self-exams are something I need to get more vigilant about, fer sure. Did you know that there's a service out there? Dinner with peeps last week in Atlanta served as my awareness vehicle, adding to the Videos You Should Know About (V.Y.S.K.A.):
Ok, we've already established that I suck. And not always in good ways. Sorry for the dearth in posts. Between stoopid busy work and many peeps in distress, I've been plumb out of time for any self-sustaining rituals. When stress has my plate full - good stress, bad stress - I find I start to lose myself. I'm not even aware it's happening. But it hit me on this second of many work travel weeks.
Hadn't listened to my iPod for, um, weeks? Turned it on whilst unpacking in schwanky Vegas hotel digs. Listened to the last iTunes purchase - the Aimee Mann release recommended by Sheena earlier this month (not bad, by the way). Then listened to a couple fave playlists.
A small, familiar yearning started to build. The music resonated with the bits of myself that I'd turned off to get through the travel, the work, the holding of others' hearts.
Music and words - reading, writing - are my prescription for life. Exposed to those drugs in infancy thanks to my 'rents, I'm a lifelong addict. Cutting myself off cold turkey really sucked. I'm slowly dosing and not yet up to regular intoxication levels, but I'm working on it.
Work and peep sitches still aren't really affording time for proper omphaloskepsis. But life ain't life without my fixes. Looking forward to live tunage action soon with Kimplicated and the return of The Old Ceremony to Atlanta, followed by a roadtrip to see Mike Doughty. In the meantime, my iPod won't be so neglected. The tune whose words struck yesterday: Gomez and "See the World" - an unsuck listen *and* and unsuck watch:
"And when all's been said and done It's the things that are given, not won Are the things that you earned"
