Jake Sprouse

Turns out the weather sucks, everywhere, for the time being. Specifically, everywhere I want to drive (i.e. Denver). So I’m just a-hang in Chicago. Sabrina and I went to Second City to see the latest show called “War! Now in it’s 4th smash year!”, in which my contribution was to loudly proclaim that the acronym LM stood for “lefthanded masturbation.” Then we went to the Green Mill, which I was told was Al Capone’s old hangout. In truth, Al Capone equals Vince Vaughn, who monopolized the waiter while I was trying to get my Laphroig converted via strainer from rocks to neat. It was the waiter’s fault, not Vince’s, for the record. Celebrity interference aside, I managed to get drunk, and remain so as I post this. It was Tom’s birthday, and Tom turned out to be a nice dude, so I snapped a photo with him and and some random woman who I seemed to be friends with:

I like Chicago. It remains firmly connected to its roots. So I’m going to leave you with Carl Sandburg’s poem while I go sleep off the booze:

Hog Butcher for the World,

Tool Maker, Stacker of Wheat,

Player with Railroads and the Nation’s Freight Handler;

Stormy, husky, brawling,

City of the Big Shoulders:

They tell me you are wicked and I believe them, for I have seen your painted women under the gas lamps luring the farm boys.

And they tell me you are crooked and I answer: Yes, it is true I have seen the gunman kill and go free to kill again.

And they tell me you are brutal and my reply is: On the faces of women and children I have seen the marks of wanton hunger.

And having answered so I turn once more to those who sneer at this my city, and I give them back the sneer and say to them:

Come and show me another city with lifted head singing so proud to be alive and coarse and strong and cunning.

Flinging magnetic curses amid the toil of piling job on job, here is a tall bold slugger set vivid against the little soft cities;

Fierce as a dog with tongue lapping for action, cunning as a savage pitted against the wilderness,

Bareheaded,

Shoveling,

Wrecking,

Planning,

Building, breaking, rebuilding,

Under the smoke, dust all over his mouth, laughing with white teeth,

Under the terrible burden of destiny laughing as a young man laughs,

Laughing even as an ignorant fighter laughs who has never lost a battle,

Bragging and laughing that under his wrist is the pulse, and under his ribs the heart of the people, Laughing!

Laughing the stormy, husky, brawling laughter of Youth, half-naked, sweating, proud to be Hog Butcher, Tool Maker, Stacker of Wheat, Player with Railroads and Freight Handler to the Nation.

Posted for my friend, John G:

Hello all,

I'm sorry to trouble you with this, but if you would happen to know of any good family that is looking to adopt a (big) dog and you think would make a good home, please let me know.

I recently had to move to Boston and, on a graduate student's salary, I haven't been able to find an affordable apartment that allows dogs. I had found someone in Missouri to watch him while I was in Boston. It was great because she was raising Mastiffs and had a couple of Pugs. She, unfortunately, just told me that she is selling her house, giving her mastiffs to her family and can't watch my dog anymore. I'm kind of at a loss as to what to do. I really love the big guy, but I unfortunately have to find another good home for Hamish and need to do so soon.

He just turned two years old, has been fixed and is fairly well trained ("sit", "down", "leave-it", "take-it", about 50/50 with "drop," and obviously house trained). I usually take him for two fairly long walks a day. Other than that, he sleeps most of the time. He's an indoor dog and needs to be around people -- no leaving him to be an outdoor dog. He gets along well with other dogs (I don't know about cats, I haven't tried). I have a host of collars and toys for him. He loves to play fetch and recently acquired a love of swimming.

He's big mound of affection, that's for sure. I haven't weighed him recently but would guess he is in the 150 lbs range. I adopted him from a rescue in Pittsburgh when he was 10-12 weeks old. I raised him in my one bedroom flat. It was tight, but honestly not that big of an issue. A back yard was key though. Standing upright, he's about 31" at the shoulder. Many people guess that he is a St Bernard or Newfie mix

He's up to date on all shots and has been microchiped.

Let me know if you’re interested & I’ll put you in touch with John.

A day late, I’m off to Seattle. Wrapping up your life always takes longer than expected, so I opted for one last day in Pittsburgh. After all the packing and organizing was over, I felt rather diminished to see my whole life fit into a 6ft. by 10ft room and a Honda Civic. Then I pulled my head of of my materialistic ass and felt gratified that I haven’t accumulated quite as much crap as I’d feared.

Here’s my route:

So far, I’ve made it to Chicago with fantastic success. Sabrina, in her infinite generosity, has put me up in her sweet pad, and treated me to lobster ravioli and swing dancing. I think it’s all a ploy to get me to concede that her nephew, Stephan-Luc, is cuter than mine. Nonetheless the hospitality is great. More on Chicago after the sleep…

I’ll post more photos to Flickr, so keep an eye on my photostream (if you’re friend or family, be sure to register and let me know).

Sometimes, I delight in the hatching of my latest evil plan. Other times, it’s sure nice when nice people do all the legwork for you and things just work out effortlessly.

Anne picked me up in DC after my red eye from Seattle (no airline snafus this time, and I even managed to get some decent sleep on the planes, although at one point I had a dream that Big Chris was pissing me off because he was going through my wallet and making snide comments on my photos, and for some reason this made me so mad I wanted to scream at him, but I couldn’t get the breath to come out. I finally managed a deep breath and woke myself up yelling “you don’t know shit about me!” but luckily in real life I think I only muttered it because the five year old girl sitting next to me and her grandmother were studiously ignoring me) and we drove down to central VA for her friends’ wedding, at which for the price of a little bit of arm candy duty I was treated to a great hotel room, some nice conversation with Virginia society types, and a relaxing day at the coffee shops of Staunton, which is about as cute as they make little towns these days.

2007 minus a day, we slept in just the right amount, spent the perfect amount of time at the coffee shop getting caffeinated, and made good time up to Baltimore, where Nick had procured us second row tickets to the Bills-Ravens game, at face value no less. We made it to our seats about ten seconds before kickoff. Anne’s first NFL game was a victory for the home team. Go (Seahawks, Steelers, Broncos, and then) Ravens!

Conveniently, Nick’s dad Nick has an office right downtown, so we dropped our cars off there and changed into our duds and headed down to the harbor for a nice, relaxed Italian dinner with Nick, Kate, and their old pals Amy, Ian, Kate, and Andy. After-dinner coffee left brought us to 11:15, just enough time to walk down and secure a spot on the boardwalk to watch the fireworks over the harbor.

Then, we got drunk. Nothing happened, and Nick did not rub his ass in anyone’s face.

Ian and Amy put us up for the night, and fed us egg bake and Dunkin’ Donuts coffee for our first meal of 2007. I couldn’t have asked for a more relaxing, fun time if I had planned it myself, so thanks guys.