It wasn’t hard to find a place to stay when I first moved to Chicago: my freshman year roommate Brad had an extra bedroom in his Lincoln Park apartment because his roommate had abandoned him for the summer. I could only afford to pay half of my share, but that was better than Brad paying for the whole thing himself. We shook hands and I moved in two days later. I spent that first Chicago summer exploring the city, both formally—I had a job canvassing pedestrians around the city for Greenpeace—and informally, as I learned my way around the CTA, started meeting people, and hung out at bars and rock clubs. The first time I headed out to the Fireside Bowl—an actual bowling alley that moonlighted as a punk club full-time, at least until the city’s threat of eminent domain property reclamation to expand a nearby park was put on indefinite hiatus and the owners started refurbishing the bowling alley with a zeal seldom seen this side of Brooklyn, hoping to catch some of the hipster cash that kept afloat similar venues like Diversey Rock ‘n’ Bowl and the 24-7 Waveland Bowl—the first time I headed to the Fireside, I was amazed to find a thriving DIY scene, complete with kids running sound, taking admission, and lounging around the merch table in the back and on the benches facing the unused bowling lanes.

I was there with Kate, a girl whom I had met while working in downtown Chicago one afternoon a couple weeks ago and had gone out with a couple of times since. We had a few things in common, the strongest being that neither of us had many friends in Chicago. Rainer Maria and Owen were playing that night, but before either of them went on I saw someone else I had just met a few days before: Brea had been at a birthday party for a co-worker of mine the previous weekend, a party at which I had had a great time with both my Jack Daniels and my co-worker, ultimately staying over far into the next morning. As a close friend of the co-worker, Brea undoubtedly knew all the sordid after-party details, and in an attempt to save myself some embarrassment I pretended not to recognize her. Little good that did: she recognized me immediately, chastised me for not remembering her name, immediately summed up the situation after some imploring looks, and played it cool for the rest of the night. She was there with some friends and we chatted for a bit before the bands took the stage, but in the years since she’s never let me forget the night that I forgot who she was, despite the fact that I purposely lost Kate’s phone number shortly thereafter and have been dating Brea’s friend ever since.

Rainer Maria were on their way back to Madison to record what would be their fourth record—2003’s Long Knives Drawn—with a quick stopover in Chicago, including both that all-ages gig at the Fireside and a 21+ show at the Abbey Pub the following night. I was there then, too, surprising Kyle by yelling out a request for “Ears Ring,” the brand new song that they had debuted the previous night. Elizabeth Elmore’s new band The Reputation opened for them at the Abbey, and she thanked Kyle for booking her former band, Sarge, for their first out-of-state gigs when they made the long trek from Champaign-Urbana up to Wisconsin. Later that evening, as I edged my way closer to the stage to get a better view of Cait, I ended up behind Elmore, who’s manic dancing and chunky heels resulted in more than a few squished toes. I confronted her at the merch table afterwards: after introducing myself, she calmly handed me her lit cigarette so she could get t-shirts for a few fans. I defiantly smoked the whole thing. We’re friends now, I’ve since quit smoking and she’s tried a number of times, but that’s a night I’ll never let her forget.

This whole piece, plus many more, available only in livingproof #5. Order now.

Issues:
#1: Crisis. [samples]
#2: Rebound. [samples]
#3: Genesis. [samples]
#4: Rehearsal. [samples]
#5: Rapprochement. [samples]
Available for $3 each. Ordering info.
Sanitary and Ship is free.

Reader, I think I might owe you an apology. You probably picked up this zine thinking it was going to be another installment of the Livingproof perzine, a series engages in the dissecting of failures in romance and the place of underground music in such a narrative. This zine doesn’t exactly follow that format. Indeed, upon first read, you may feel like I hoodwinked you into reading a paean to my favorite band, whom you likely don’t care about and may be disinclined entirely to check out after finishing the last page and closing this zine (or throwing it down in disgust partway through).... Read more.

It wasn’t hard to find a place to stay when I first moved to Chicago: my freshman year roommate Brad had an extra bedroom in his Lincoln Park apartment because his roommate had abandoned him for the summer. I could only afford to pay half of my share, but that was better than Brad paying for the whole thing himself. We shook hands and I moved in two days later. I spent that first Chicago summer exploring the city, both formally—I had a job canvassing pedestrians around the city for Greenpeace—and informally, as I learned my way around the CTA, started meeting people, and hung out at bars and rock clubs... Read more.

Semi-Related Links:
Fall of Autumn
Punk Planet
Sanitary and Ship
Splendid
WLUW
Zine World

Sometimes, when the end comes, it’s right on time. But very rarely do things end when it feels right. Too often the end is a surprise, it catches you off guard, and you’re left in the dust struggling to make sense in your grief. Not as often, but just as difficult, is the end that drags on, milking your patience and sympathy until you’re actually happy the end has come when it finally does arrive. It’s a relief, in those cases... Read more.