Chicago, USA.

Chicago loves meat.

But going to a Brazilian Charrascura restaurant is like having a non-stop meat orgy.

It comes from all directions. Meat meat meat meat and more meat.

The place puts the meat back in Christmeatsas.

Chicago, USA.

"Half the game is mental; the other half is being mental."

Chicago, USA.

They crawl throughout the sprawling merchandise aisles.

My fellow urbanites are consumed with Fa La La La La.

They need the satisfaction that comes from owning a little piece of something else.

A shiny new. A sparkling. A bright flashing dazzling screaming slashing.

They won't love you if you don't buy this now.

Nothing clears the store shelves like the impending fear of "being too late".

"You forgot Christmas" means nothing in Africa.

Toronto, Canada.

The true north strong and free.

This afternoon my waiter looked like a pedophile.

It's hard to describe what that means.

But you just know what I'm saying...

You just know.

I always go to the same restaurant here.

It's been years.

I have no idea why.

The food tastes like Polonium 210.

The decor is atrocious.

The waiter wishes I was a twelve year old boy.

But it's a "part of the neighborhood"....

Meanwhile, at a party later in the evening a woman starts ranting on about how she loves running the marathon...

I'm like... "Excuse me, who did you eat who ran a marathon?"

She continues on her fantasy rant.

"The Marathon is so great! The marathon is so wonderful!"

I'm wondering what kind of restaurant this place called "Marathon" is.

I'm wondering if the Marathon comes with a side of fries. ..

Winnipeg, Canada.

Paint the town white.


It really is quite a beautiful place.


Perfectly flat. Miles upon miles of horizon.


A town where everything is literally frozen in time.


An inverse place.


Everything on the ground is monochromatic while the sky is a canvas.

There is no chaos.


There are no loud noises.


There is no rock and roll.


(You're home, baby.)

Winnipeg, Canada.

A picture says a thousand words.

This picture's thousand words start off with... "Ok.. so this guy decides to jump a plane and go to Winnipeg. Uh huh. Right. Winnipeg. Oh look. It's wintertime freezing. Wow. What a shocker...now.... what to do...hmmm.... "

There are still about 983 words left.

This is going to be one hell of a weekend.

Chicago, USA.

After spending a good portion of a month in Japan, it only made sense to go find the freshest sushi in town.


The Shedd aquarium is one of the finest Aquariums in the world. That's what they keep telling you. .. I have no idea who decides and ranks Aquariums, but it sounds like a nice job to have.

I've been to a few of these places. They all seem to have fine gift shops. I kept asking the woman if they had any jewelery made from real dolphins. She didn't seem to get the humor.


Dolphins are apparently the smartest animals on earth. Clearly the definition of "smart" is directly linked the ability to swim fast and jump out of the water. This doesn't seem smart to me at all. If the fucking dolphins were so bright, they'd eat their trainers and build hovercrafts.

Chicago, USA.

A very specific type of urban crawler attends events at art museums. It's strange to have to physically go somewhere to immerse yourself in culture when it is all around you every day.

Chicago, USA.

Something’s changed. This is remarkably different. It’s not me doing the here-and-there this time. Instead, I get to sit on the uncomfy pleather chairs and watch the far away folks file by in the O’Hare arrivals lounge.

Where is she?

Everything is delayed. Afternoon has become evening has become nighttime has become double espressos at the ubiquitous Starbucks on floor B1.

This is a sport onto itself. There are a thousand stories and a million frequent flier miles that pass by every three minutes. Will Wilma from Duluth make her connection to Dubuque?

Delayed. Cancelled. Cancelled. Cancelled.

The train over here was remarkably interesting this time. A gentleman paced around the platform at Clark & Lake, loudly reading from a book. Here’s the thing though... he wasn’t crazy. Around his neck was a cardboard sign saying “Tag Team Reading, Tag In!”. An art school stunt gone right. I watched as he mulled about until a complete stranger tagged in. Fascinating.

Meanwhile I sit here grounded, metaphorically and literally.

A momentary delay in the non-stop.

It’s not that often that we get a chance to really observe the world around us. There’s no better place than O’Hare. Displaced street kids hanging out in the washrooms. Fat fatherless families from Oklahoma. Businessmen furiously thumbing commands into their blackberries. Foreign investment in the flesh. The immense overwhelming stench of lonely mixed with the gentle relief of familial reunification.

We try to learn their individual stories through simple extrapolation of the observed data available. Through the quick snippet of passing overheard conversation. Two hours ago, that man was in Omaha. A lifetime ago he was on the forty three yard line in Chicago. He loves the excitement of the big city. In his eyes he’s still the quarterback To the cabbie, he’s just another fare. As he tries to grab his bags from carousel 5, he fumbles the reception.

Meanwhile, her one hour flight is five and a half hours late.

This is why we need massive venture capital investment in the field of teleportation. It’s not quite there yet.

It’s snowing outside. Amazing how simple flakes of ice can change everything.

Welcome back, winter. Where you been?

Chicago, USA.

Last night Guns N' Roses were in town. As much as I wanted to relive the memories of a time gone by, I was unable to drag myself to the Rosemount Horizon to check out Axl and his kareoke backup band.

Let me get this straight. Of all the bands in all the periods of my life, I never liked anyone as much as I liked GNR. I wore the T-shirts, I bought the albums, I watched the videos, I went to the concerts. They were my absolute favorite.

I still think that "Double Talkin' Jive" and "My Michelle" have their place in the pantheon of Rock classics.

I go onto YouTube and check out some wonderful historical documents.

But, you have to let the past lie. There's no point in spoiling old memories by watching a bastardization of the past.

You're in the jungle, remember? You're going to diiiieeeee.

Toronto, Canada.

American Thanksgiving is always an interesting holiday.

We befriended the Indians, plowed them with alcohol and tobacco, tricked them, raped and killed them and stole their land.

We celebrate this and have the audacity to call it "Thanksgiving".

This year, I celebrated by getting the fuck out of the USA.