Psychic Psychosis

Sometimes we become so consumed with who we’re becoming, what we’re working toward and where we might be by some hypothetical date, that we completely lose who we are, the quality of what we’re currently work on, and the importance of where we are right here, right now. Whatever we choose to do can carry an equal amount of meaning. It does not have to hold status or perceived importance. It does not have to satisfy the expectations of our families, friends, enemies, idols or mentors. It has to feel empowered and enthusiastic as it pours out of us.

I discuss these topics and issues not because I believe that I am somehow “it”, that I’ve figured it all out and here is my wisdom for you to absorb. No. I am fueled with enthusiasm to share and to inspire contemplation because of where I am today, better than yesterday, worse than tomorrow. The only thing I KNOW, for certain, is that I know next to nothing. What I know I cannot possibly express through stringing letters together with some spaces to formulate sentences, because what I know is intangible, felt, not spoken or understood through language. I’ll never stop seeing myself as a work in progress and the biggest lesson I’ve learned is being ok where I am in this moment, knowing how much I’ve yet to learn and grow, and how much unknown there will always be. I know the choice, the ability to be happy and successful rests within me, not outside of me. Seeking only destroys whatever internal work I’ve managed to comprehend and keeps me trapped in the mind, which is an insatiable, perpetually disappointed little asshole sometimes.

I’m very grateful to be what is essentially an advanced student. I teach Yoga. And I learn more from my interactions with students, from my mistakes and from my mind-induced stress than I’m sure they learn from me. All I can do is level with them, acknowledge that we are all the same, no better or worse, just unique. I know people with a physically proficient practice, meaning they’ve acquired a high level of strength, flexibility, range of motion and balance in postures and sequences. But somewhere in there the world is missing out on their heart, their inherent goodness is disguised by an image of success, or their mind simply obstructs who they really are and therefore their essence cannot yet be seen. I also know many whose physical practices are very limited, their strength has yet to build, their muscles may be stiff and they’ve yet to find their grace and stability in motion. But their heart, their light, their essence shines very bright, providing a very palpable living example of how to operate in our world. Of course there are some with the total package and they are phenomenal mentors. I can honestly and sincerely express that I carry little to no judgment toward anyone, wherever they are, whatever their path. My only reason for discussing this is to show it is more important and more likely to leave a lasting impact when we are unafraid to be exactly who we are, to exhibit our essence (happiness, joy, trust, love) over our ego (dissatisfaction, mistrust, unease, fear) regardless of the who, what, where, when, why or how. Just because. I am. You are. That’s all.

Every class I teach, we begin with breath. We slow and quiet everything down to a pulse. To a moment. To simplicity. To life itself. And as we breathe I may introduce some piece of philosophy yoga or life has taught me that may resonate with the room. It could relate to the time of year, the time of day, timelessness, or just being human, but my purpose in sharing is to inspire self-inflicted kindness. We spend moments in silence breathing, contemplating, creating space, and then, based on what we’ve discussed, I’ll ask the students to set their intentions, their uniquely personal goals they want to work on during their practice, never forgetting that it only begins on the mat, and continues outside the studio. What is imperative here is the intention is not meant to act as a goal to be achieved at some future date, some measure of success that will somehow fulfill us more than we are currently. We need to confront what brought us to the mat, why we are practicing yoga, and more specifically, what we’d like Yoga to bring out of us. I’ll often suggest the intention be very simple, perhaps a quality or descriptor they wish to reflect their practice and who they are in the world. A personal example would be something like patience. My intention on and off my mat for most of this year has been patience, with myself first, and others second. Where it may be a perfectly acceptable goal to achieve a handstand at some point during your journey on the mat, delving deep into the intricacies that lead to success in high level poses are not without many small mental and physical achievements along the way.

It is important to not feel discouraged or disappointed by whatever challenges you encounter, whatever weakness you perceive in yourself, but rather feeling informed and inspired to overcome those often mind-made obstacles and feel somewhat at peace knowing tomorrow is a new day, each breath is an opportunity to start anew. I find when I’m most plagued with self-doubt, disappointment and frustration, I am merely resisting what is instead of accepting myself as I am here and now. Pursue, seek, discover and try because you feel joy, in the moment, and nothing else. No wanting. No expectations. Not result driven. Wanting to be somewhere we’re not only fuels the egos fire, adding gasoline and flames to an already deep lack of self-affirmation. The gift is the emergence of your genuine acceptance and bliss, derived not from what you do or what is given to you, but how you do it and what you’re giving to yourself and others, your best self. So the goal, the intention you set, is not for some mythical reward that you’ll earn with good behavior and the precise, chronological steps. The intention is to make that our pervasive state of being, everyday, every moment, because of nothing other than being patient with yourself allows you to feel more content each day, interact more productively with others and creates a ripple effect that will allow the future to unfold better than your mind could previously rehearse.

I’ve alluded to my formerly forward thinking self in previous articles and conversations. The only time I dwelled in the past was to relive some seemingly significant moment that I placed too much meaning so I could replay the memories in my mind. All that did was allow me to live in this sweet slice of denial, overlooking many red flags and discouraging events that would have benefited me to learn and move on. Instead, I let my mind retell the same stupid story over and over ad nauseum, basking me in superficial light, warmed from that of a tanning bed rather than the actual sun. That was more first love related and once I entered my 3rd decade of life, my twenties for the mathematically impaired, I was sick of my own nonsense and finally moved on. What has been a consistent issue plaguing me since early childhood is a very active imagination and an all around discomfort with the unknown. As a child the unknown centered around death and the future. Could I die in my sleep? Could I wake up blind? What would love look like for me? These are the irrational thoughts that would swirl in my mind as I’d try to convince my rational side to fall asleep. As I aged those worries turned to who would I be by age 18? 21? 25? 30? 40? You get it. I can say very definitively here this is a colossal waste of time and nowhere near an accurate prediction of who I’d turn out to be.

Guess what all that pontificating about how the future might play out resulted in? Hours, days, weeks, months and possibly years wasted trapped in my mind, in the vicious cycle that is the human psyche, that is anxiety, that is playing the “what if” game. And being achievement oriented, expectations serving as the basis for my motivation, only led to a very rigid, confined box that narrowed my scope, my learning, my openness and my overall success. I did fine in school, high school and college, played sports well, had some nice friends, occasional boyfriends, but I look back only a few short years later thinking so fucking what? Most of those years are a blur because I was so consumed by such small, superficial measures of success, and this bizarre self-satisfaction in limiting myself to academic marks and following what I felt were my “strengths” that I know I missed out on so much. On what? I don’t know because I was unwilling to even examine those possibilities. I look back and can still feel this baseline of dissatisfaction and unhappiness because there were so many things I wanted to do, people I yearned to know, and mischief I wish I learned from that I was stuck in perpetual motion of fear and then anger toward myself for lacking courage.

I still struggle with being truly open and fully courageous, but the point I’ve reached is recognizing how I was limiting myself then and to actively work on living a more ballsy life now. I had very little belief I’d fall in love and I reached a point where I was sick of my shitty ego telling me this and I refused to listen anymore. I thought I needed to follow a very clear-cut career path and make my parents proud. They could tell their friends their daughter was some blah blah at this blah blah firm. I couldn’t have been less interested in that way of life, I just thought achieving whatever that was would allow me to finally relax and let go. But whenever I took steps toward those inauthentic goals I’d feel so sick inside, so wrong, so off. I felt like a fraud. No matter how many A’s I earned, how much money was on my paycheck or even how staunchly I believed in whatever worldly criticisms I was spouting, it was never enough. I was still dissatisfied, living in fear. This is not to say people who follow the billions of other paths there are other than mine are unhappy, living a lie or pursuing something toxic. Not at all. I’m just speaking from my experiences, from the battle raging inside my head.

I feel much more content now, more aligned with what challenges and inspires me, but I still have those days. Where do I go from here? Being sick of my own need to project the future and plan every moment until then has led me to rebel into presence, to desire only to commit fully to each day, and whereas that is an improvement and has led to a more fulfilling internal state, I’m still finding the balance of having goals and not being consumed with reaching them, but instead encouraged to be productive and wiser each day, having learned from yesterday and looking forward to tomorrow. The two paths that seem to come rather intuitively to me, teaching Yoga and writing, are not necessarily careers with decipherable steps to climb the ladder to success. In fact, both are laughable as far as income. Do I limit myself by defining my career or etching out specific goals? Only if my happiness rests on that future date when that level of achievement has been reached, that amount of money has finally been earned or when enough of the world perceives me as a profitable, accomplished person. If, however, I’m working diligently to be a better teacher and writer each day, regardless if money or accolades arrive sooner or later, and I’m enjoying the process, uplifted by the task and feel like those around me are affected positively by my presence, then I will continue to envision and dream while embracing how the future unravels in unpredictable and exciting ways.

Lately my physical practice has reached some new heights. I’ve landed some difficult postures I previously thought my body could not pull off. The lesson I’ve gleaned is the many years of slow progress has led to these small victories and that as soon as I get a big head about it, as soon as I feel finished and satisfied, I’ve lost the message. I was patient. I believed. It happened. So now the goals are re-imagined, advanced and better reflect who I am today instead of who I was then or who I think I’ll be down the line. There’s no way for me to accurately anticipate my interests, progress, values and objectives 5 or 10 years from now. I’ve learned that much. Life laughs at a plan and I cannot honestly attest to the past 6-7 years of my life being wonderfully unpredictable, each surprise humbling me and teaching me that the only true constant is change. Progress or parish. Evolve or dissolve. Many of the details surrounding my external reality, where I live, what I do, and who plays major roles are wildly different than they were just a few years ago, let alone 10 years ago. And for this, I am very grateful.

The racket behind visiting psychics is they’re not providing you with specific predictions as to how your future will lay out. They’re perceptive people, paying close attention to your attitude, body language, and energy. A few questions can provide a fairly educated estimate on where you’ll be in a few years. If you want your future to turn out bright, do not cloud your presence in darkness, in limits, in sameness, in the crippling fear of the unknown. Feel and be better today and that will carry into tomorrow, next week, next month and next year. Let go of the heavyweights that insist you struggle and strain in the shallow end and instead go float in the deep, light, having the courage to surrender to the flow, without worry about the unknown darkness below. You deserve to feel happy and accomplished each day and this feeling comes from being you, not trying, thinking, doing or receiving, but by giving yourself what you need and being a beacon of realistic everyday success and exhilaration for others to absorb and enjoy. The chain reaction of the choice to be happy will benefit you exponentially with the advantage passed on to all you encounter as well.

Become aware of your internal dialogue. Acknowledge the story your mind repeats. Select honest, beneficial language. Eradicate fear and eliminate what-ifs and you advance from surviving to thriving. Believe you deserve it and become impervious to negative rhetoric and influences. Come out of the mind and into the moment, out of ego and into your essence. Be you, here, now. And remind me and others to be the same.

Feel free to connect with me further via mastic8onthis on Facebook and Twitter.

For Cravings and Special Occasions: El Nuevo

I like American food. I have consistent hankerings for a good burger and a semi-annual hot dog, fried chicken and pulled pork are favorite southern staples of mine, and I have a difficult time turning down starchy sides like mac n cheese and mashed potatoes. I have a strong like for these items, like being the operative word. I have a strong appreciation for well executed traditional dishes and sides, but what I LOVE about American cuisine correlates with what I love most about our country in general: our diversity, our cultural influences, our food. There is not one country I wouldn’t be thrilled to visit and whose food I wouldn’t be game to try. Strip all of our political and religious values away, and we all are just highly advanced animals who’ve always needed food and water to survive. How we treat this need manifests differently for every group and subgroup and that is what makes being human an endlessly fascinating ride. There’s a few genres of cuisine I prefer over others and one of them is Mexican. Similar to Italian, I could eat some item from the country’s expansive list of choices every single day. For high quality ingredients, ideal ambiance and a well-rounded experience I visit El Nuevo Mexicano.

My first visit to this uniquely spectacular place was for a birthday celebration last year, one of those very special occasions when you can join with both friends and family, share some adult beverages and great food together on a cool Spring/Summer evening. We sauntered a little less than a mile from Central Lakeview, walking south on the always busy and entertaining Clark Street, to Southeast Lakeview where El Nuevo resides, between Wellington and Diversey on the west side of the street. We had high hopes and limited expectations, choosing to meander their way because of proximity and wind of some potentially memorable food. We walked into their very charming facade, equipped with tall ceilings and exposed brick as nearly all great Chicago establishments carry, warm lighting and candlelit tables filled with many patrons all enjoying their company and environment. We sat in a cozy booth across from the bar with great views of the homemade margaritas and guacamole being made in front of our eyes. Every person at our table was moaning awkwardly with pleasure at El Nuevo’s high quality Mexican cuisine. By the end of the night we were drunk off satisfying food, great conversation and the sinfully enticing tequila.

I’ve now been back a handful of times, all coinciding with very special occasions. A friend’s birthday. Family and friend’s celebrating a loved one’s survival and recovery. A promotion. A reunion. A reason to feel and eat well, with the right people and the perfect environment. I recently went back on one of Chicago’s unusually warm March evenings with 3 of the most important people in my life. My love, my mom, my brother and I sat in the small room that leads out to their beautiful patio and we enjoyed one of the very best meals I’ve had there, or in Chicago in general. It was after this meal that I realized how foolish I am for not writing about them until now. You can know that I am recommending this restaurant based on multiple visits with consistently above average results. I’ve had excellent Mexican fare in many neighborhoods in Chicago. There are countless I’ve never even seen that I’m sure would blow me away and although I’ve had some fairly stellar meals on the North, South and West sides of Chicago, I fervently implore you to visit El Nuevo as well.

When I go anywhere and my “role” is as customer, my only hope or expectation is for hot, clean and hopefully delicious food to be brought my way. This is a largely populated city filled with busy restaurants. I don’t need my ass or hand kissed. What I love and prefer is when a restaurant’s credo and atmosphere inspire an engaging connection between those serving and those served. Let’s just be human beings having a conversation about food. Sure, you bring me what I ask for and I pay you nicely, but beyond those social parameters we can also enjoy each other as best as possible. If a server prefers to keep the dialogue to a minimum for efficiency or personal reasons, I am absolutely fine with that. Be kind enough and fulfill your duties as best you can and so will I. If, however, you also like to engage in some banter and make the night go better for us all, then it’s a win win for everyone. El Nuevo’s staff is among the friendliest, most helpful and respectful I’ve had the pleasure to absorb in this or any city. It’s as if they’re all on the same page, enthused about their genuinely awesome food and about their customers having the full experience. I look forward to seeing many of the same faces whenever I return. I hope the next time is soon.

Onto the exquisita comida, exquisite food. Of course, my recollections are just that, mine. The food I enjoyed is based on my palate and my perception of what good food is. I understand and respect we all vary on what constitutes a tasty meal. For my money, my taste buds and my belly, El Nuevo has some of the best, freshest tortilla soup I’ve ever had. It carries just the right amount of spice, a little kick and tang to keep you interested, chicken broth to comfort, anejo cheese to savor, sour cream for a burst of cool, and strips of tortilla chips for a textural crunch. I’ve often considered sitting at the bar with a cup of soup, endless chips with their addictive homemade salsa, and washing it down with an even more dangerously delicious margarita. But I always want to be a gluton. I want to enjoy as much as my stomach will endure. I love their tacos, enchilades and most of their classic Mexican dishes. What makes El Nuevo memorable is their specials. When in season, try their coconut shrimp. These are unlike any I’ve ever had, served with an equally delectable sauce. You’re gifted with astounding side options like cinnamon yams and chipoltle mashed potatoes, not to mention their remarkable mole, ranchero and tomatillo sauces. Their vegan options are created and executed with care and they’re so delicious, you will not miss the meat. Or cheese. The lactose intolerant (how unfortunate that must be) won’t miss the cheese either as there are a slew of dishes with thoughtful ingredients and impeccable results.

Below is the Carnitas Chipotle con Mango y Platanos. Tender pork in a zesty chipotle sauce with mango and plantain bananas, pico de gallo. Spanish rice. Unbelievably good!

I sincerely feel a gateway to opening a mind and becoming more comfortable with differences is experiencing how and what another culture eats. Ideally, we’d all visit each other’s neighborhoods, or better yet our actual countries, and share a meal together. My family and friends teach me everyday that different is good, there’s an endless wealth of knowledge and perspectives I’ve yet to hear and if we could all just stop talking and use our mouths to eat and our ears to listen, we may find more common ground than previously existed. That was my Miss America world peace speech.

Open your mouth, your belly, your heart, and your mind to something different. And enjoy every bite.

Just want to take a few words to express my gratitude for you, whoever you are. Whether I know you or not, whether you’ve read one or all of my articles, whether you liked it or not, thank you. I happen to feel very jazzed and appreciative to share what I love and my hope is one or more benefit from these words. That’s all. Thank you so much.

Feel free to connect with me further via mastic8onthis on Facebook and Twitter.

Creative Erection: Mad Men

I have to admit, I miss watching new episodes of great television as it’s airing live to the world. Maybe there’s something in the cultural identity where the energy level rises, the show’s community is abuzz and if you’re even moderately active on social networks, you’ll be privy to this information instantly. People tweet action during the commercials. It’s somewhat insane. I don’t participate in this, but I certainly check in periodically throughout the day and some person or publication is discussing some item of pop-culture. The long-awaited return of Mad Men, in its 5th season, begins this Sunday. I truly cannot wait. This show is a true kaleidoscope of creativity, no stone is un-turned. In it’s vernacular and vision, it is true to the 1960’s. From its soundtrack and score, to the costumes and character development, this show is compelling from episode 1.

In the event you’ve been avoiding, resisting or inexplicably ignorant to Mad Men’s unprecedented genius, then let me respectfully request you UNdo your NONwatching and get the hell on it. Suspend whatever preconceived notions you have. Forget about whatever annoying person over-exaggerated their love for it, stemming unnecessary disdain from you and therefore creating a hardened wedge between you and this remarkable piece of art. All four completed seasons are streaming right now on Netflix. If you’ve got some expendable income, the DVDs are well worth owning. I plan to show the children I don’t want to have how impossibly great a few TV shows were back in the double decade of reality nonsense. My hope is by the time these fictional kids are old enough to appreciate the show, they’ll have so much great content to absorb because we’ve finally evolved out of our stupidity coma and now expect more out of the content we absorb. If not, baby’s watchin Blu-Ray whether they want to or not. Mother of the year.

Many of my twenties cohorts have a shared an affinity for the 1960’s. I’m unsure as to whether their parents are influencing this, if it’s that whole “nostalgic for a time we never knew” thing, or if they have unbelievably smart and interesting grandparents who happened to also marry in 1960, producing spawn throughout that decade and then passing on their years of wisdom to every child in their wake. In case it’s not clear, my interest in the 60’s stems from the latter. I have zero desire whatsoever to live in that time. Even the modicum of facts I gathered before watching Mad Men taught me better than that. You do not want to be anything but white and male during that period. Nonetheless this New York City based drama remains compelling, intriguing and immensely educational. The artistic integrity is astounding. Writer/Creator Matthew Weiner holds the show to a standard only AMC could uphold. Those who’ve lived through the 60’s to those who for their enjoyment became experts on the subject, most credible minds agree this show reflects that time in American history with nearly pinpoint accuracy. Some beauty and great story-telling don’t hurt either.

The show follows the life of Don Draper, an impossibly handsome man in his mid-thirties, a creative director at a powerful advertising agency on the Big Apple’s famous Madison Avenue, husband to a beautiful blond trophy-wife, and father to a boy and a girl living in a lovely home outside the city. It’s fairly common knowledge event amongst those who’ve never watched that Don is the king of the boardroom and the bedroom. He could charm the pants off a blind nun, making even the most prude, conservative women cross many moral boundaries just at one sultry stare. The man breathes sexy, seriously, and has a 5 o’clock shadow almost immediately after shaving. He simply knows how to command respect and admiration. You want to know more. He keeps just enough hidden behind the vest and showcases some brilliant off-the-cuff wisdom and truth that you just cannot turn away. The life of Don Draper is steeped with lies and intrigue, and Jon Hamm pulls every aspect of emotion off without a hitch. He deserves the respect and success he’s received. And then some.

Don’t worry straight men, there’s some goodies for you too. Nearly every secretary on the show is gorgeous, thin, poised and bright. But if you need some serious Jon Hamm caliber hotness then look no further than Joan Harris, the queen of the assistants. She carries a razor-sharp wit and a ridiculously stunning hour-glass figure, mirroring that of Marilyn Monroe, but with flaming red hair, deer like blue eyes and a very seductive voice and demeanor. Christina Hendricks has been named The Sexiest Woman Alive and it’s obvious why. She’s unusual looking while also exuding this classic, timeless quality. Her body is healthy and voluptuous, and more importantly, she carries herself with a quiet confidence that every mother should instill in their daughters. Goodbye heroin chic, hello genuinely beautiful, sexy women, from the inside out. Similar to Jon Hamm and the other wisely casted actors in this show, Hendricks is the real deal, carrying some serious, raw talent under exquisite physicality. Many I know well yearn for a Don and Joan sex scene, but it would probably be too much for the public to handle. One for the mental files, I suppose.

So beyond the visual spectacle that is the set design, lighting, costuming, hair, makeup, and actors, is the most important element of any piece of entertainment you’ll ever enjoy: story, writing, script. Every word of dialogue, including the silences in-between, are ripe with intrigue, intelligence and weight. From the way men talk to men, men talk to women, women talk to women, parents talk to children, teachers talk to students, and the Ad Men at Sterling Cooper speak to their clients, the conversations are not only reflective of the time, but also indicative of the care and passion taken by the very smart people working behind the scenes on this show. The depths we’re taken into the character’s lives and the pinnacles they reach, make you fall in and out of love nearly every episode. The density of egos and psychosis amongst the leading roles feeds the story in what feels like a slice of life drama, like a real story unfolding before your eyes. Each episode has the quality of a film, with the gift of seeing the narrative develop with increasingly engaging detail, week after week, and year after year.

In the recent months, I’ve re-watched most episodes with my brother, who is frantically on a quest to finish all four seasons before the fifth begins. As the episodes fly by, we’re both blown away and even more addicted after each one ends, deciding late at night to watch one more than we initially planned. Can’t get enough. Following these very personal stories as they happen, in conjunction with famous historical events such as the Cuban Missile Crisis, MLK Jr.’s iconic speech, Malcolm X’s untimely death, the details surrounding the Civil Rights Movement, the pervasively relevant gender equality issues, and the impending Vietnam War, allows the show to weave into the fabric of the American psyche, the America that once was, and the American we’re still trying to become. This show is historically factual and therefore, educational. It is bold and clever, covering topics of abortion, race, adultery, divorce, addiction, sexuality and previously unspoken truths with grace and ease. It shines a light on a bygone era so many wish to return and by telling this quietly audacious story, we’re given a glimpse as to how far we’ve come and how far we’ve yet to go. We see our parents, grandparents, aunts, uncles, friends and even ourselves in these well-written characters, recognizing many psychological constructs present in society today, within family units and our culture as a whole.

Every character shines, brings something unique to the table. Don Draper immediately went down in history as iconic and Jon Hamm will now stand the test of time as an incomparable actor, one who can be understated in a supporting role, and also a clear leading man. The level of detail expressed even in the pauses is the make of a truly talented actor, and beyond his inherent sexiness, Jon Hamm has the goods to back it up. As I mentioned in a previous article dedicated to what makes men empirically sexy, Jon Hamm falls easily into this category. Somehow he’s an even better George Clooney, showing us his innate knack for humor during his multiple stints hosting SNL, his major departure as a dimwitted asshole in Bridesmaids, and in his many interviews with comedians on podcasts and late night television. His casting alone shows the impeccable decision making by this very dedicated and accomplished crew. This show deserves every award and accolade it continues to receive and I have little doubt it’ll be remembered many eras from now.

In this 90 second clip, you get a bit of the show’s mystifying intro score and a glimpse into Don Draper without any spoilers. Knowing the show probably makes it funnier, but it’s good either way.

Just as your muscles need exercise so they don’t weaken and atrophy, your brain requires similar care. Laziness, be it mental or physical, will show equivalent results. Stimulate those neurons and then some. Watch Mad Men, for the first or tenth time. You won’t regret it.

Joe Rogan has an Intriguing Brain in that Gigantic Head

Many evenings a week I’m tricked or cajoled into watching some dark, heavy, violent piece of film or television. I don’t mind. I can handle it. But it is certainly not my first choice. Perhaps I have a natural tendency toward sadness and frustration, toward very sensitive compassion and empathy. Or maybe I’m just a big pussy. Probably a combination of all three; but either way, I don’t prefer to be scared, anxious, saddened, or stressed, unless it’s something really fricken good, like Breaking Bad and other worthy shows and movies. I’m not sure how certain artists focus their work on these subjects, because the magnitude and energy-level alone, meaning the state of mind and your overall mood must then reflect the seriousness of the issues you perpetuate, and while I love philosophy and finding some insight in otherwise everyday occurrences, I’d choose to laugh and feel elated, ecstatic, enthusiastic, inspired, uplifted and enlivened any minute of any day over feeling like utter hopeless shit. And because of this very sophisticated preference of feeling happy and positive, I choose comedy to satisfy it all. In all forms, but especially in stand-up comedy, humor is one of the last true methods of exercising our 1st amendment rights. Comedians have this innate knack to point out very obvious truths, direct concise arrows toward hypocrisy in modern society, and cleverly shine a light on what has become very normal, but very caustic human behavior, and that light then becomes a mirror, for us to acknowledge and potentially change. Or just a beautiful means of escapism, laughing at pain diminishes its power, and the impactful methods used by comics to express these sometimes harsh views, have transformative effects on those of us willing to listen. I recently watched Joe Rogan’s 2005 stand-up hour. Coupled with his very interesting podcast, his affiliation with DMT, transcendence, and truthfully the stigma that has followed him because of his career choices, I feel he is well worth sharing, listening and respecting.

Everyone wants to be the next Bill Hicks. And no one will let them. What comedians like Carlin, Hicks, Pryor, Lenny Bruce and more led to was this notion that comedy wasn’t just a means to laugh and escape, but more importantly it’s an opportunity to think and face reality, rather than run from it or simply laugh at it. These very clever artists have articulated themselves in a way that it really bleeds into the audience’s subconscious, their words become quotable, memorable, and therefore forever apart of the interweb that is our mind. What’s incredibly unfortunate is our world is no longer being fed by the unique wisdom of the men I mentioned above. Fortunately, legends never die (as my favorite childhood movie the Sandlot informed me), and Bill’s words in particular reverberate on and on, nearly 2 decades since his passing, and the majority of comedians express their utmost admiration and respect for him, for his message and for his brilliance. Most of Bill’s material can be seen on Netflix, YouTube and other internet sources, but before we get into modern-day Hicksian disciples, I’d like to encourage anyone interested to watch American: The Bill Hicks Story, streaming now on Netflix instant. In a quick 90 minutes, my mind and heart were broadened to such a degree it was nearly impossible to process. The story is told so creatively, mostly through the use of photographs from Bill’s life, of his loved one’s, colleagues, friends, and of his adventures. It is narrated by a number of these people, although we never see them, only through chronologically ordered photographs and some video do we see these characters come alive. Since leaving home, like we all do, I acquired my own opinions and loose beliefs regarding politics, religion, drugs, people, nature, love, etc., and through Bill’s astounding story, and through his own astute observations and discernible method of delivery, I was then re-informed and subsequently re-imagined a new, improved way of looking at these subjects. Regardless how staunchly you believe in anything, the film is interesting, funny, insightful and very memorable.

Back to Joe. If you aren’t aware of what Joe has done or been doing since his 90’s work on Newsradio (still stands the test of time, that was a genuinely funny, smart show), his first stint hosting the insane reality series Fear Factor, his recent return to the even crazier version of the same show, and of course his affiliation with UFC, then you may be surprised to know what a dynamic, thoughtful, intelligent, wise and very funny man he is. He’s been a stand-up comic for 20 years, was a full body Tae Kwon Do champion 4 years in a row, as well as the U.S. light, middle and heavyweight Grand Champion. The fight stuff doesn’t mean much to me, except as a former athlete I can certainly respect the discipline and dedication achieving that sort of goal requires. It also lends to his credibility on certain subjects, regarding health and fitness, fighting in general, and definitely adds to his intrigue as a human being. An MMA, comedy, consciousness enthusiast? Sounds awesome. As with anyone of moderate success and fame will ingest, there are small groups of people with throngs of judgment and negativity toward Joe and toward anyone with an opinion and success. It’s always best to make up your own mind, so here I’m simply suggesting you check him out further, from his fascinating podcast, to his advocacy of DMT, floatation tanks and other altered states, and of course, to his stage persona and comedic material. He’s worth checking out.

I wrote previously about the awe-inspiring documentary DMT, the Spirit Molecule. Joe is experienced and well-informed in various methods of elevating your consciousness, or altering your pervasive state, mainly through the use of marijuana, psychedelic mushrooms, the administration of DMT, and the life-changing effects of a sensory-deprivation, or isolation, tank. I proudly support the legalization and recreational use of cannabis, THC, marijuana, pot, weed, green, hash, whatever euphemism you prefer. It is absolutely the choice of an individual to what they prefer, but this substance that grows naturally almost everywhere around the world carries the most unnecessary stigma and negatively perpetuated myths that I’m appalled it hasn’t at the very least been de-criminalized in each state yet. Joe is a major advocate as well, exclaiming very passionately the bizarre and sometimes helpful ideas this altered state has given him and others, not to mention the feeling of love and connection you feel while under the influence, which is drastically different from a drunken stupor induced by alcohol. Not to mention the laughter. Comedy is medicine, too. We spend billions of dollars a year on man-made prescription drugs, in particular mood elevators, neurological inhibitors and bottles proclaiming numerous physiological benefits for heart, weight, stress and countless others, and most of us don’t even question it! At all, we just pop it, cross our fingers and move on. Joe and many others point to the very simple truth that marijuana, mushrooms, acid and other potentially beneficial natural drugs have yet to be legalized because the pharmaceutical companies, even lobbyists supposedly advocating for our health and for scientific research, keep pumping money into congress to keep these arcane laws in place, to keep us buying these drugs, over and over again. Luckily, knowledge is spreading and the ever-evolving list of positives within medicinal marijuana has led to a good handful of states permitting that sort of use.

The use of the sensory deprivation tank intrigues me. I have some slight issues with claustrophobia and that whole buried alive fear that I’m resolving, but given the research and testimonials, I see nothing but good for those seeking this out and I’m beyond shocked the government hasn’t found a way to remove this from civilian reach. There’s no drugs. It’s just you, floating in 11 inches of water, in silence, in pitch-black darkness, you and your mind. There’s all sorts of muscular and joint benefits attributed to time in the tank, but the mental and “spiritual” experiences recounted are even more powerful. Not sure if or when I’ll do it, but I’m surprised more people aren’t aware or talking about it, and for that reason I wanted to share. Check out the interesting few minute video below and/or read about it here.

Without delving too deep into his very memorable stand-up special from 2005, I’ll just say that Joe is carrying on very Hicks-like subject matter with this aggressive energy and enthusiasm, with ecstatic bursts reminiscent of Sam Kinison. He covers the very simple topics like modern relationships and women’s tendency to lie and conform according to what a man wants, only for it then to backfire a few months later once the man is effectively pussy-whipped. He discusses basic stupidity, evolution, human beings and our relationship to Earth and the cosmos, politics and government (Joe understandably is a Libertarian, Ron Paul supporter), the aforementioned drug issue, death, and the ever-divisive topic of religion. Of course there are a myriad of talented comedians and artists tackling these subjects, standing on the shoulders of Hicks and others, but Joe has an impeccable method of execution. He uses simple language, logic, and appropriate emphasis to allow his words to have resonance, and that impact is profound. I’ve previously expressed in a number of words my lack of religious belief. It doesn’t mean I don’t believe in God, or that I think all organized religions are worthless, but the heat surrounding these discussions today leads a person of moderate intelligence to see how destructive and exclusive they are, rather than rational, connective and inclusive, which would naturally be more beneficial to us as a human race and as a planet. I believe in love and the factual sentiment of the genius astrophysicist, Dr. Neil Degrasse Tyson, “We are all connected; To each other, biologically. To the earth, chemically. To the rest of the universe atomically.” I share in Joe’s enthusiasm to spread helpful, interesting and all around affirmative information, to quell the rampant fear we have as a species, and to instead acknowledge how impossibly gifted and talented many humans are and how these minds are drastically altering our future in extraordinary ways. There’s tons of content on his site, YouTube, Google, etc.

Joe remains a realist, seeing both the extreme pros and cons of modern day man. He maintains humility, knowing there’s a black hole of information we’ve yet to glean, while maintaining awe at those who are at the forefront of discovery and innovation. Recently he’s had the optimistic filmmaker and futurist, Jason Silva, on his very unique and influential podcast. They discuss the advent of technology and it’s increasingly inevitable integration with humans and how these forms of exploration and inventions will have unimaginable effects on our biology, neurology, chemistry and on the many issues concerning the world today (over-population, resource depletion, consumption, mental and physical diseases, religion, geopolitical power, space exploration, etc.). These conversations leave me more informed than I was going in, inspired to be, think and do better, and they give me tremendous hope and optimism for our future.

There’s a long list of artistic and scientific minds with whom I do not agree 100%, on many subjects, but that doesn’t mean I cannot be open to their ideas and learn from them. To write anyone off, from those you love to strangers on the street, famous and virtually unknown, is to do ourselves a disservice. I don’t have to adhere to it all to find it valuable or beneficial. People all over the world, young and old, exhibiting their own forms of success and expressing their own truths, are worth our time and energy. Feeling confident in what we know while also carrying the humility required to keep learning and improving is imperative. And if you can share some laughs while also being asked to ponder and question everyday realities, it’s a win-win. Give one of Joe Rogan’s methods of expression a shot. I guarantee you’ll be surprised, enlightened and entertained. What’s better than that?

“We’re here to eat the sandwich.”

There’s plenty of bullshit and crushing evidence of darkness to complain about, but what the hell does that do? There’s also an overwhelming plethora of emerging radiance stemming from human beings. You’re one of them. Stay informed, open, humorous and optimistic. It ruins your and others’ experience being Polly Pissy Pants. You can remain a realist and choose to absorb information that betters you and adds to your level of success and contentment. It is a choice. Choose wisely. And never stop laughing.

For Study Breaks and Lunch Dates: Chicago’s Cafes

I spend 3-5 hours, 4-5 times a week in a coffee shop/cafe here in Chicago. Many times, due to geography and time constraints, I may opt for my closest Starbucks, and since I worked there back in 2003-04 during college, I have a very mild loyalty to what I feel is a fairly positive corporation. What I prefer; however, any day of the week, is to walk or bike to an independently run, private shop where you know the owner and employees, you have a favorite drink or snack, a preferred table and chair, and permanently engrained memories of conversations with friends, long hours writing or reading, and a satisfaction in spending your dollar at this type of establishment. I live in Lakeview, so my selections center around where I live and work. I can’t even fathom the awesome cafes to spend hours in neighborhoods like Wicker Park, Logan Square, Lincoln Square, Andersonville, the South Loop, Pilsen, and many tiny villages in between. If you’re in or around Lakeview or Lincoln Park I highly recommend Kickstand, Savor the Flavor, and the Bourgeois Pig.

Kickstand is most certainly for the cool kids. With a very modern design, mixture of paintings and bicycles, along with their young, friendly and fashionable baristas, and a myriad of eclectic music playing, this espresso bar offers a fantastic alternative to the numerous Starbucks and Caribou coffees that surround it. I happen to love their Darjeeling tea, prepared with loose leaf black tea placed into an individual bag and tied, with hot water poured over a generous sized cup and saucer (did you not know how tea was made? well, you know now. ). I love having the saucer because I can easily save the bag for extra cups, and when you’re sitting, trying to be productive for a few hours, multiple cups is a must. Little details make this place stand-out, make me want to continue going, and that includes their sugar options; raw, white, substitute and simple syrup; their pies and pastries, wisely selling Hoosier Momma Pie; and their sandwiches, if you’re there over a meal time, I suggest the Pepper Crusted Turkey sandwich. I love anything with avocado, and if a cafe is smart enough to include that buttery ingredient on a sandwich, they’re keepers in my book. Kickstand provides an excellent environment to be productive. I personally love to grab a tea or espresso drink, one of their flaky, savory croissants, and park myself in a stool by the window to people watch while I procrastinate.

Kickstand is located at 824 W. Belmont, open from 7 am to 9 pm, everyday.

My second pick is most certainly my first choice. I wish I lived closer, but this winter has gifted us so many nice days, that I enjoy my roughly 2 mile walk from my apartment in Wrigleyville to Savor the Flavor. Truthfully, Savor has a very special place in my heart, stemming from my permanent boyfriend working there for the first year we lived in Chicago. Owner and now friend, Geri Schapira, has superb taste in staff. Everyone is impossibly attractive, with an equally unbelievable humility and kindness. Savor attracts artists, both as employees and as customers, so it should be no surprise the staff there are some of Chicago’s most impressive young talents, musicians in particular. I now count more than 5 members of Savor’s former and current staff as friends, a couple being close, influential connections. It’s because of these bonds and what we’ve all shared together that allows Savor to hold such a strong significance in our lives. It is the hub, the ground zero of some meaningful relationships and emotions, ones that none of us will ever forget. And we have Geri and Savor to thank for it.

Beyond my emotional attachment is an efficiently run, eclectically decorated cafe with beautiful exposed brick donning the walls, a comfy mixture of sofas and chairs to cushion your body, and some of my favorite espresso, tea, milkshakes, Italian ice, grilled cheese sandwiches and homemade soups in the city. Their red lentil soup, which happens to be vegan, with chunks of celery and carrot, topped with oyster crackers (the best cracker!) happens to feel like medicine for my body and a bowl for my soul. I love getting a cup with a grilled cheese and tomato sandwich. And good cheese. None of this Kraft American singles BS, but genuinely good options; Muenster, provolone, Colby jack, swiss, etc. Get it with a side of chips or baby carrots and you’re satisfied for hours, fueled with energy to concentrate and converse. During various nights of the week, you may see one of Chicago’s talented singer-songwriters showcasing their passion and artistry, singing their hearts out for Savor’s audience. It’s also great to peruse the very interesting pieces of art on the wall, noting the Arts for Life connection and you’ll feel Savor’s heart even more. I wrote an article for an online magazine about this very special cafe, feel free to check it out if you want even more insight into Savor’s soulful flavor.

Savor the Flavor is located at 2545 N. Sheffield avenue, with entrances on both Lincoln and Sheffield. On weekends they’re open 8ish to 7ish, as expressed on the sign, and weekdays 7ish to 6ish. Looking forward to some summertime milkshakes and Italian ice, but for now, I’ll continue to enjoy my time with friends and the Savor staff as I enjoy some delicious soup. Hope you can make it here.

My final choice made the list merely for the sheer cavalcade of interesting salads, soups and sandwiches, along with the very unique, Parisian ambiance. A simple few blocks away from Savor is The Bourgeois Pig. It may seem like a conflict of interest to like and support both, but such is life, and I support both for very different reasons. Not to disparage anyone at the Piggy, as me and my nerdy friends call it, but their staff is nowhere near as friendly or helpful as Kickstand or Savor. As if they’re adhering to the American stigma and stereotypes of the French, the hipster staff at BP are a bit flippant, sarcastic, sometimes dismissive, and sometimes plain cranky. I do not give a damn. As long as someone isn’t spitting in my food or truly working hard to make my day worse, I don’t care about the 45-60 seconds I spend ordering with them. I am friendly, of course, but if they’re just meh back, what do I care? I absolutely love going to this cafe in the summer, the elevated iron Eiffel Tower structure welcomes you to a really charming outdoor seating area, surrounded by flowers and foliage, lit by the sun. Inside is very old-timey European with some great twists. There’s a beverage side and a food side. Bourgeois takes up every room of a very old Chicago home, so you can ascend one of two stair wells to select one of many rooms to eat, drink and work in. They have a vast tea selection, pretty solid espresso drinks made to order, and plenty of healthy or unhealthy soda and water options to wash down your grub, should you choose to order some.

The Bourgeois Pig is a writer’s paradise. The setting is conducive and inspiring, dedicated to great writers of the past. The sandwiches are all named after literary classics, both in author and in title. My favorite sandwich is still The Great Gatsby, Focaccia Bread, Layered With Basil Pesto & Mayonnaise, Crumbled Bacon, Oven Roasted Turkey, Avocado, Swiss Cheese, Tomatoes & Leaf Spinach…And Then The Whole Contraption Is Grilled! That’s straight from their menu, served with chips and a pickle, this is one of my favorite sandwiches in the city of Chicago. I love their Midsummer Night’s Dream salad and their Potato Leek soup. Many of their items are seasonal and their list of options is more expansive in person than it is online. You can still look over the menu to get excited.

The B. Pig is located at 734 W. Fullerton Parkway and is open 7 am to 10 pm Monday through Saturday, 8 am to 10 pm on Sundays.

All three of these shops carry quality coffee, tea, ingredients and care. They also each provide free wi-fi for customers and some sincerely earnest people running the show. I’m grateful to have such unique and inspiring places to sit comfortably, alone or with friends, with a book, to read or write, laugh or quietly cry (that doesn’t happen often, but if you are going to cry in public, these are good places) in this endlessly giving city. Next time you’re have a lunch date, a business meeting, or some quality time alone, check out one of these cafes.

Life is meant to be inspired and inspiring. Your surroundings are pivotal. Spend your money and time wisely. Choose local. Enjoy.

cop(U)lat(I)on

No matter how difficult the access or how high the cost, we will find a way to have sex and not have babies.
Does that bother you?
How much time do you spend worrying about how much sex someone else will be having?
Kind of perverse, isn’t it?
Those worrying about the sexual activities of others couldn’t be less sexual, less full of life and passion.
Government is not sexy.
Strict religion silences pleasure, self-discovery.
Bummer. The 70 year old white man with a collar doesn’t believe I should have sex without intending to procreate.
Hate to rebel, padre, but it’s with reckless abandon that I rip my clothes off tonight, with the lights on, just one of many enjoying the fruits of this wondrous existence.
Nothing can stop this innate gift, not even your persistence.
No amount of resistance.
Or insistence.
No foil or foe.
No John or Jane Doe.
No judgment. No punishment.
Can strip away this liberty.
This freeing ecstasy.
After which, what’s left of me.
Is the same.
I carry no shame.
No blame.
It’s insane.
To wax and to wane.
Over my body.
My pleasures.
My pain.
This is my business.
Clean or dirty.
In love or in anger.
Known. Or a stranger.
Safe. Or in danger.
Loudly.
Proudly.
Shrouded in desire.
Crowded with fire.
Heat. Combustible.
Chemistry. Lustable.
From below. Or above.
In hate.
Or in love.
Get out of my bedroom.
Stop infecting.
Resurrecting.
Nonsense. Fear.
Inducing guilt. Tears.
Left cold and confused.
Empty and abused.
Segregated.
Mind and body split.
Heart and loins adrift.
Only pieces remain.
Hope down the drain.
Because of ignorance.
The arcane. Inane. Insane.
Caustic. A stain.
Get out. Silence yourself.
Opinions shelved.
Criticism delved.
What’s left after it all?
Death. Extinction.
We all breathe.
We all love.
We all drink.
We eat.
We try.
We learn.
We die.
Along the way to death.
Enjoy the rest.
Absorb the best.
Laugh.
Discover.
Dance.
Be entranced.
Engulf.
Remove.
Let go of clothes.
The cloak.
Time to soak.
And invoke.
Follow your passion.
Your bliss.
Know yourself.
Without presence.
You miss.
This.
Here.
Now.
Be.
Lover.
Achiever.
Believer.
Receiver.
Alive.
Here to thrive.
More than survive.
I’m here.
Now.
As are you.
To enjoy.
Somehow.
Together.
Or apart.
Let’s embark.
Rev up.
Start.
Leave the rest behind.
Let go.
Let loose.
Tie a noose.
Around the naysayers.
The fake players.
The empty prayers.
Say fuck it.
And be you.
Everyday anew.
Relinquish.
Laugh and play.
Screw.
For no one but you.
All you have is Today.
Flow and sway.
Here. Away…

A Cure For Lethargy and Winter: Have Food Delivered To Your Door!

This is nothing new. Ordering pizza for delivery. Big whoop, right? Wrong. Incorrect. This is in fact a true gift from the culinary gods, especially living in the vast food haven that is the city of Chicago. We’ve had a remarkable winter thus far. Cannot complain. Most Chicagoans are tough as nails anyway, making the best of whatever the lake effect wind blows our way. We spend many days hunched, wrapping our coats tighter around our shivering bodies, lowering our head to avoid the wind, keeping our eyes down at the ground so there’s no tripping, slipping or falling. It does a number on our posture and on our moods. This winter we’ve been fortunate enough to look up, to de-layer, wear less, smile more. We’ve been gifted some windy, snowy days to remind us what normal winters entail, and then we receive a few days of warmth and sunshine to melt any crankiness away. On those “average” days, when the wind howls and the temperature drops, I recommend you park under your electric blanket (if you don’t have one, give yourself the gift or have an awesome mom give it to you like mine did, especially in a cold winter), call one of the great places listed below, pop in a good flick and wait for pleasure to be delivered to your door.

If I had to give thanks to 5 things beyond what truly matters, beyond my amazing family and friends, beyond my health and lasting happiness, my dreams, values, yoga, yada yada, I’d most certainly put pizza on that list. I love almost every version of pizza, even some frozen varieties. I love creative and bizarre pizzas (see Dimo’s, formerly Ian’s). I love Chicago style (Pequod’s!). And I love good ole NYC style cheese pizza. And for that, I won’t go anywhere else but Gigio’s. Even my enthusiasm for food and writing cannot bring adequate words to page to describe the simple yet exquisite delight that is this pizza. To me, and roughly 15 people we share pies with from time, Gigio’s is perfect. I cannot fathom a way to improve it. The original location is in Evanston, a charming suburb on the north-side of Chicago. Sometimes I wish I grew up there. I know some genuinely unique and wonderful people who emerged out of Evanston’s streets and they all know and love Gigio’s as well. They now have a location on North Broadway, in Uptown. The location is nothing special, not nearly the nostalgic experience I feel when visiting the Evanston shop, but either is remarkable for delivery or take-out. I highly, highly recommend! And now I’m craving it. One large cheese feeds our three large mouths very well. Nod to the spinach, pepperoni and sausage as well. Delectable. Sinful. Just like I like it. $16.55, little over $20 for delivery. For stellar pizza, that’s a fine deal in my book. They deliver til 2 am on the weekends and accept credit cards. Easy as a scrumptious, savory pie!
4643 N. Broadway St.  Chicago, IL 60640
(773) 271-2273

Almost everyone in this expansive country grows up with the luxury of pizza delivery. In the burbs it’s not always the greatest, but when you’re a kid, you could give two shits. Bread, cheese, hot, without effort, sold. Beyond the joy that is receiving quality pizza on a cold winter night is the sheer miracle of receiving Chinese food via the same transmission. If only we didn’t have to get off our asses and pay the poor sod braving the cold to bring food to a bunch of lazy sloths. Small mercies. For this, I recommend Mark’s Chop Suey on Halsted. I’m a gargantuan fan of wonton soup. Something compels me to order it regardless of my level of hunger, time of day or what entrée I’m pairing it with. And at Mark’s, all soups are very satisfactory and are beyond our normal Chinese fast food equivalents. I’ve a barrage of meat and veggie dishes, usually accompanied by both friend rice AND lo mein, I have no shame. You really cannot beat their dinner box deal’s. For one, you receive an egg roll or two crab rangoons (I love both, but who can pass up a crab rangoon? You shouldn’t. They’re crazy awesome.), choice of beef, pork, chicken or veggie entrée and a side of fried rice for $6.95. They deliver until 11 pm and are closed on Mondays. Slurp up some noodles and enjoy!

Delivery Area:
Division (1200 North) to Devon (6400 North)
California (2800 west) to Lake Michigan
(773) 281-9090

Here’s where I go back to some old favorites and recommend you order delivery now and then walk or ride your bike for a visit once it warms up. Or now, if you’re not a wimp like me. Panes is by far my favorite sandwich place in Lakeview. From the baked fresh daily bread, their refreshing sides and vegetables, quality deli meat, truly unbelievable cookies and even better prices, we order Panes probably twice a month. $5.95 a sandwich. Cash only so beware. They close at 9 so order early.
3002 North Sheffield Avenue  Chicago, IL 60657
(773) 665-0972

Crisp’s wings are truly unbelievable, large, perfectly executed and well worth the $8.95 for 5 price. I love their bowls and fried mushroom app too. They close at 9 as well are closed all day Monday. I’ve made the wretched mistake of craving them so intensely I have tunnel vision and want nothing else, all to call and find out it’s fricken Monday! Curses. Don’t make that mistake.
Delivery Area: Lake Michigan to 2000 W Damen
1600 North (North Ave) to 4000 North (Irving Park).
(773)-697-7610
(773)-697-7611

Despite my pension for pizza and cookies, I do enjoy eating healthy foods most often, just not late at night on the weekend’s. This next choice is a real American munchie craving, one you cannot sweat too much because of calories or fat, just enjoy it. When I have a hankering for BBQ and the energy of my dog Bear, I’ll call Risque Cafe. No, it’s not a strip club/buffet combo like it sounds, or like you’re used to, it’s an oddball concoction of whiskey and craft beers, and some damn fine BBQ. I love fried pickles. Theirs are speers, bursting with salt and flavor, piping hot, and excellent. Their pulled pork is juicy, tender, smokey and tangy and is paired with fantastic baked beans, surprisingly well made cornbread (I suppose I shouldn’t be surprised, I live in the land of corn and more corn!), and an unnecessary side salad. What was even better, what I will order every single time from now on, is their F*ck Fidel sandwich, a meal and a sentiment most can get behind. Pulled pork, ham, swiss, fried pickles and mustard. Oh my f*cking god, mind-blowing, heart exploding, stomach challenging, taste buds in ecstasy. Toss it down with some crispy fries and you’re in for a good night’s sleep. Eat in moderation, as a treat. I can’t emphasize this enough. Sandwiches range from $7-10 and are served with fries or tots. This is a bit of a tease because Risque does not deliver, BUT, if you are enjoying a night in with someone, I highly recommend the “I buy, you fly” method, order it to-go, it’ll still be fresh when it gets home.
3419 N Clark
Chicago, IL 60657
(773)-525-7711

Rounding out our countries visited is a trip to Mexico, or the gift of Mexico visits you! Azteca de Oro is a consistently well reviewed, healthy, unassuming establishment on Clark Street, just north of Wrigley Field. I truly enjoyed every dish, every staple ingredient, and every margarita I’ve ever had, at authentic Mexican restaurants. An important distinction. Azteca is BYOB if you want to bring some friends and enjoy the food right after it’s prepared, but succumbing to our lethargy as we often do, we thought it best to receive this meal via carrier. Our tacos, enchiladas, quesadillas and tortilla soup held out magnificently. Another home-run. Most entrée items run from $6-9, with the larger, more adultish choices being over $10. They’re open late and deliver their beautifully fresh and delicious food at warped speed. Enjoy!

3731 N. Clark St.
Chicago, IL 60613
773-857-6565

A good night awaits you with any of these above and beyond delivery and carry out joints. At each, the hardworking staff provide genuine care in preparing every dish and delivering with optimum freshness. Living in the city, I personally walk miles a day. I love it. I can walk to most of my friend’s houses, take an elevated train and bask in the glory that is Chicago’s architecture, its vintage and modern beauty, its endlessly fascinating population and it’s infinite possibilities in memorable cuisine. Sometimes I need to rest these old bones while I watch the snow blow by, next to my radiator and my pups, in one of Chicago’s many great neighborhoods. Wherever you live, find the goodness. You can get bogged down with the sameness, the plain, the weather whoas and the distracting weirdos. Or you can embrace it for its totality and extract every bit of positive you can. If you live in Chicago and you complain about it, move. May sound harsh, but if you’re bored or unhappy it says more about you than it does the city. If you can’t plainly see the good or it’s not thrusted upon you on a silver platter, then do some work and find it. You deserve it. Have some great nights in!

Work hard. Play well. Live vibrantly and Eat even better. Masticate each bite thoroughly. Swallow with gratitude. Happy Eating.

La Via Del Respiro- The Way of the Breath

You were birthed not to absorb the emotional debt of your parents.
Their dreams. Their mistakes. Their opinions.
You emerged not to retreat back to where you once came.
Your fears. Your lessons. Your truths.
You are granted breath not to hold it hostage beneath your heart.
Your air. Somehow separate. Now belonging to you.
You awaken each day with a pulse, a rhythm with which to live your life.
Your beat. Your stir. Your drum.
You march to it, ignoring the deafening reverberations of others.
Their stomp. Their sync. Their song.
You submerge in it, forgetting.
Your light. Your lyric. Your love.
You find your path again.
Your way. Your trail. Your hum.
You see others on your way.
Their successes. Their struggles. Their psalm.
You let go of it all.
Your past. Your failures. Your brawl.
You hear yourself in their strum.
Your uniqueness. Your sameness. Your all.
You accept what is, the whole.
Your goodness. Their connectedness. Oneness.
You’re All.