Quiet start to the rebellion

Today’s the first day of Trump’s takeover. I couldn’t watch the charade of his inauguration, so instead, I decided to spend the day avoiding social media (as much as possible–I peeked a couple times out of habit and morbid curiosity) and engaging in small acts of rebellion and self-care (which, as I’d mentioned a few days ago, is rebellious in and of itself). Underneath this awesome ad about rebelwomen is the story of my day in photos…

rebels

Fueling up

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At the start of a day, coffee is far more a necessity in terms of bringing about this human’s functionality than food. Breakfast came later.

Dressing the part

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This is the closest thing I have to a “fuck the establishment” shirt. Still, I wore it today and got a few awesome comments. Two women on Glenwood said, “Love your shirt,” and a nice neighbor named Bobby said he would be marching for me tomorrow since I can’t go.

Breakfast, finally

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It’s been a while since I grabbed a cheddar herb biscuit from Smack Dab, and it hit the spot. Organic and tasty and still warm.

Peace in the dirt

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I don’t know what a peace feather, but considering the first word is “peace,” it’s probably something positive. I’ll look that up later.

Stocking up

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In the 1200 block of W. Farwell, there’s a tiny library (a small case where neighbors take or leave books in a book swap) that the maker also uses to stock a pantry for the needy/homeless people in the neighborhood. It was empty, so I schlepped to Morse Fresh Market and stocked up on staples, and feminine hygiene goods.

Reading material

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I didn’t leave a book, but considering I left something, I felt like the universe would be all right with me taking one, especially since it matched my shirt.

An offering

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I couldn’t think of what offering to put on my altura as I prayed for our country and its citizens’ well-being in the coming weeks, so I just lit some incense. It’s nice–it makes the apartment smell like a fireplace.

More sustenance

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Here’s something else we should rebel against: the DiGiorno people insisting upon putting cheddar cheese on their pizzas. People, unless it’s a novelty pizza like a taco or cheeseburger pizza, just stop.

Drinking and reading

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Rogers Park Social, which is 277 steps from my front door, opened early today so people could escape inaugural nonsense. Wasn’t that nice of them?

Traveling through

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Riding the train, like a hobo in days of yore. Wait, is it offensive to say ‘hobo’? Maybe I should use more proper terminology like ‘transit-utilizing American.’

Looking at art

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The saying goes “art should comfort the disturbed, and disturb the comfortable.” This and other works by Ethan Hutchinson, hanging in Rev. Billy’s Chop Shop, makes me disturbingly uncomfortable. In a good way.

Making art

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I had zero inspiration when I got out a canvas and my paint. It’s also been so long since I painted that all the colors I wanted to use were dried as old turds. This isn’t my best, but it’s something.

Tomorrow, the rebellion steps up. See you then.

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Writer, drinker, arbiter of sarcasm.

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