I’ve had too really great weekends in a row. This has everything to do with them being the only two weekends I’ve had in Chicago in fucking forever. Everything’s so different on the weekend, when there’s no urgent need to get up early the next day and be a person, and when everybody else in the city’s staying up late too.

Last weekend was Watchmentastic with a heavy sprinkling of Wicker Park and nearly fruitless searches for Peruvian chicken. It was made of yum, and going, “Wait, this place is a club? But I go there for tasty sandwiches at dinner.”

This weekend was a little more touristy as the company was new to Chicago. There was Planetariumage, and Art Instituteage, and much tasty food, though too much taxi and driving. Saw All my Love, have conflicting feelings about it. It wasn’t bad, it didn’t offend me, but it felt very much like the playwright didn’t really like the poly thing and was trying to be objective anyway. The secondary storyline about the twin sisters’ relationship I think was the much stronger part of the play, and I liked that part a lot. Something’s off, though, when I find it easier to identify with either the severely depressed and acting out teenager or the jealous live-in lover than the “polyamorist.” It did provide the best line of the weekend though, i.e. “The boy grew up with the Clinton trials and Dr. Phil. Of course he’s confused.”

And now I go back to the 12-17 hour days that’s the week between those weekends. Yay.

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