Photo by Richard Cummins

So this article by Jeff Ruby that circulated around the Twitterverse last week about being a true Chicagoan got me thinking about all those people who get upset when a suburbanite says he/she is from Chicago.

I think it’s somewhat of a silly claim that someone from the suburbs can’t experience Chicago the same way a city-dweller by birthright could.

I get pretty defensive (a popular characteristic of a Chicagoan) when it comes to proving my claim to this city. After all, I’ve explored nearly every corner of it and I’ve experienced more of Chicago than a lot of natives who mainly stay in their own neighborhood.

So, yes, I made a list of some of the reasons I believe make me a Chicagoan:

-I enjoy the taste of grilled onions on a maxwell street (from the quasi-original Maxwell St. stand) polish sausage at least once a month.

-I’m not afraid to venture west of Ashland, south of 35th street or north of Addison.

-I’ve picked a side, and it’s the South Side: White Sox.

-I think Brett Favre can suck it.

-I went to bed after watching John Drury and Mary Ann Childers on channel 7 news as a kid.

-I know where to score free parking in the city and I’m NOT telling.

-I know to take Sacramento to get N/S when 90/94 is backed up with traffic.

-I know the nickname “Second City” does NOT mean Chicago is second to New York! And the nickname “The Windy City” has nothing to do with wind.

-I don’t mind getting out of my car and WALKING a few blocks.

-I know of better beaches in the city than North Ave.

-I avoid the Red Line before and after a Cubs game like the plague.

So what makes you a Chicagoan? share your story on my blog, utilize my comment box!!

In which The Gay Recluse ponders random acts of beauty garbage.

So yesterday we wrote about a giant-tote-bag-and-broken-sawhorse installation on 35th Street between 5th and 6th Avenues. Today we are happy to report that not only has the installation survived, but that it has grown!

This is facing west. We like the way the new and more chic cardboard box on the left is juxtaposed with the more tattered version on the right.

On this side, looking east, we see a more traditional arrangement, which effectively alludes to a garbage heap while transcending the form, particularly in the context of the passing midtown pedestrians.

But that’s not all! For some, the installation has taken on even greater meaning. A “humble reader” sent in the below images with the following note:

In the name of [Redacted], this must NOT be moved!!!

Umm, ok, humble reader. Let’s see what’s going on here:

Woah Nellie! Why didn’t we see that?

[Redacted] fucking [Redacted]! A miracle on 35th Street!

Thanks for sending that in, Humble Reader. We wish we could tell you that this holy relic will be preserved, but it may be out of our hands! Stay tuned for more.

In which The Gay Recluse admires random acts of beauty garbage.

If you’re like us, you’ve long wondered what would happen if you took the world’s largest (and Con Edison branded!) tote, propped it open with a broken sawhorse and left it for a week on 35th Street and 5th Avenue. Would anyone move it? Or like all totes, would it just slowly fill up with the assorted detritus of urban life?

Incredibly enough, this scenario has finally transcended the hypothetical! After blithely walking around the thing for any number of days in our morning stupor, on Friday we were finally like: “Have our prayers been answered? Is that a giant Con Edison tote and broken sawhorse in the middle of the sidewalk on 35th Street?”

Fuck yes! Check it out:

Oddly but coincidentally, we’ve been thinking about selling these giant totes, except branded with “The Gay Recluse.” (Never again be embarrassed by a small tote!)

Obviously this took some time to fill up.

We’re kind of hoping it’s still there tomorrow. (And what’s that guy on the left doing with a bat?)