We shot 'Dharma & Greg' six blocks from my house for five years. I had a Dodge Durango that I sold after five years, and it only had like 12,000 miles on it. My whole life was within eight square blocks of my house. There was a golf course across the street. In my downtime, I was on the driving range.
This is not to say there are not Chicagoans. But I would suggest that they are a nomadic people, whose lost home exists only in their minds, and in the glowing crystal memory cells they all carry in the palms of their hands: a great idea of a second city, lit with life and love, reasonable drink prices at cool bars, and, of course, blocks and blocks of bright and devastating fire.
Elysian Park through the dark about a mile. A little white girl with a Bobby King smile. Blue little bags she says she knows I’m feeling bad I’m worth your while. But here ‘tween the palette feelings I don’t understand, cardboard cutouts, just be a man. Have fun walking home in Mike Davis land. Pull the wool over my eyes. I don’t want to understand. I like the trees, the army and the colors that they wear, they like to scare. A few blocks home from remembering my name, a few blocks home.
Few of us could speak the other's language, but all of us had by now discovered the lodge's unique 'outside toilet'... which transcended all national barriers. The lodge owner wouldn't let you use it unless you promised to lock yourself in with a special key. Everybody thought this odd, but they understood his concern once inside. The loo was just two parallel blocks of wood laid either side of a big hole in the floor. You went in, squatted down on the blocks, felt the gust of chill air wafting up your nether regions, looked through legs, and watched the bottom fall out of your world for a sheer drop of two thousand feet! The reason for locking the door was obvious. Any unwitting interloper who swung it inwards when you were squatting over that hole was certain to knock you off your perch and straight down it. And that would be a one-way trip to oblivion. With your trousers round your ankles
Electricity, " Purva said, rolling the strange new word around in her mouth, giving it at once an Australian and a French inflection. "Sir William was playing around with it when we met, do you remember?" Jack said to Clare. "He was storing charges in boxes." "I remember he was blowing things up, " Clare replied. "Six of one... " Jack grinned. "Nobody really knows how it works, but down here it powers most of the lights in the big cities and parts of the automobiles and the stoves in the train kitchen. You can store the power in blocks, then hook it up to anything you might otherwise run on a boiler. It's cooler, and the blocks last longer than coal. I think I can reproduce it when we get home, if I can take enough schematics with me." "He is going to kill himself, " Purva said, but her tone was casual, not overly worried. "I'm not going to kill myself, " Jack answered, equally casual. "Just because it can cause your heart to stop doesn't mean it always does.