I Close My Eyes, There Goes a Season
An evening in early autumn.
(I used a couple of tools to record some details in my walk this afternoon. The SI unit lux (lx) represents a unit of illuminance in an area. I recorded this data with the Light Sensor Counter app on my phone to record the brightness of the areas I visited, rounding to averages at the time of recording. I wanted to record the change in the amount of sunlight in overcast weather. On sunny days, the illuminance can range anywhere from 10,000 to 100,000 lux. I started my walk at the DePaul campus and walked about five miles to my dormitory in the Loop while recording the light levels).
3:40 PM: I set out from the Arts & Letters building, nervously loitering for a while before deciding to head South down Kenmore. A few students are near the school, but the sidewalks clear after I meander off of the campus. Most buildings are only about three or four stories tall, and the air is wet with an almost-rain.
3:45 PM: Cutting through a side street to get to Sheffield, I head South once more. A stocky tree grows, despite its sweater of ivy. Hastas grow at its base. For a while, I walk in the same direction as some other man, but I’ve lost sight of him. I’ve gotten stuck at a cross signal. 800 lx.
3:50 PM: I found a broken jar of pasta sauce on the sidewalk; miraculously, all the glass is disappeared, but the lid and tomato paste are still there. The evidence sits in the shade of a tree. The street stands still, desolate if one ignores the occasional minivan. 300 lx.
3:52 PM: The red line passes noisily on the elevated track. I can hear it through my headphones, though I’m not listening to much. It’s otherwise silent. Deserted. It looks like it might rain.
4:05 PM: I’ve come down some diagonal street and stopped at a Starbucks on Clybourne and ordered a cold brew (very hipster of me, I hope. Let’s live up to stereotypes). The light is at a dim 170 lx inside. I’ll wander off again when my drink is ready.
4:20 PM: Across from me on the corner of Halstead and Division is an ugly-looking blue monstrosity of a bridge. The water is sort of green. There aren’t any tall buildings around. 2700 lx.
4:24 PM: I’ve reached the bridge. The light took just about forever. The sky lets down a little sneeze of rain as I cross the river, sprinkling droplets on the screen of my phone. It’s getting a bit darker out, but some areas are still lighter than others. A woman, about twenty yards ahead of me, jogs on.
4:28 PM: A big, metal, chute-looking mechanism sits across another bridge. Several cement trucks congregate at the base, some of them spinning, some of them still. There’s a piece of graffiti on the ground, saying “FORGIVE”, which is probably very meaningful. 2000 lx.
4:33 PM: I take a left on Chicago Ave. The sidewalks are wide enough for one person, spider-webbed with tiny cracks and sickly weeds. An ugly sort of grey has been stalking me through the last few blocks. It presses down on my shoulders. The air is still and quiet, the murmur of people distant here. I pass by Chicago Tribune buildings. There is no attendant at the parking lot’s entrance.
4:35 PM: I’m yelled at by a “NO TRESPASSING” sign. Grafitti and ivy grow over the exposed wood of the building’s door. The bridge is very shaky as I cross it, the trembling middle clicking and clanging as cars pass by. 2400 lx.
4:37 PM: A man is coming own the sidewalk with a hefty beard and rocker hair. We exchange a smile as we pass one another. He’s carrying a bag of some sort. Possibly groceries. I pass Larrabee St.
4:39 PM: On the other side of the avenue sits the Chicago Lights Urban Farm, likely a community garden, advertised with encouraging, friendly signs. Another Starbucks rests at the corner. 2500 lx.
4:42 PM: A grey taxi cab makes good use of its horn in an intersection. Another car is trying to turn left, which is obviously and horribly stupid and unacceptable at best. A woman passes by. She’s rapping loudly to the music playing from her headphones.
4:44 PM: There’s a pop-up Halloween shop on the corner of New Orleans & Chicago. I’m extremely pleased with this development. At the station nearby, a man stepping off the bus calls out, “Hey, Joe!” 1700 lx.
4:45 PM: Many posters are pasted on this building, over windows and doors, advertising events and concerts. One minimalistic design shows a devil and a saying for something called “Half Evil,” which I suppose might be either a band or a cult, given the provided text. Very alt goth, either way.
4:48 PM: I take a right on LaSalle. The buildings are beginning to tower over me as I reach a more busy side of town. There’s an SUV with a pink triangle bumper sticker that says “School of Rock.” I find this to be very endearing. I take a left onto a different street, but I forget to look at the name. 1000 lx.
4:53 PM: I check, and it’s Superior St. I reach a church with a tall spire and can see Layola hiding behind it. I’m back in a place that grows trees in public spaces. I take another right onto State. 500 lx.
4:56 PM: I can feel the train pass by as a breeze blows from the grates in the sidewalk. The gust plays with my hair for a moment as I walk along, and as it passes. There are a lot more people here than where I was before; I can hardly find space to walk.
4:58 PM: There is some absolutely sickening brickwork on this building across the street, on Ontario. It looks rough, in a nearly black red; I don’t have time to extract my camera from my pocket before the crowd sweeps me away. An ambulance screams by. 600 lx.
5:03 PM: Why do 7 Elevens on State play classical music?
5:05 PM: There’s a large parking garage that sits right before another river crossing. It’s akin to a spiral tower, reaching into the sky all menacing-like. Truly a wonderful architectural feat of mankind, to make an entire, gigantic building to house a bunch of earth-killing machines. It’s rather lovely, in a morbid sort of way.
5:10 PM: There’s a man on a rainbow chrome bicycle singing like Louis Armstrong, and not particularly well. We travel alongside one another for a while. There are a lot of advertisements on the street lamps for a Broadway performance of The Phantom of the Opera, which would be interesting if I had money.
5:18 PM: I’ve noticed a lot of clear umbrellas as people pass by, even though the rain has stopped — well, it hardly even started in the first place. I wonder if the clear one is a new trend, or if it’s just cheaper than a designed one. 700 lx.
5:19 PM: Some aquatic portraits look down at us milling pedestrians from their perch on the corner of a building. A cephalopod, a lionfish; their colorful demeanors brighten the otherwise tiring visual landscape.
5:20 PM: I’ve just passed by what is probably the fifty-thousandth depressing Subway sandwich shop I’ve seen today. Maybe I should have started counting those, too.
5:21 PM: Barnes and Noble is in my sights. I can almost taste home. This is the fourth Starbucks I’ve noticed, and I’m glad for the distance between each of them. Good job, Starbucks. At home, I couldn’t throw a stone without hitting one. Despite enjoying their coffee, this is a welcome change. 800 lx.
5:25 PM: Finally, I can see my building. I would like to thank the Academy, the Pope, and immediately grab dinner. The sky gets darker and the people move on; it seems like autumn is finally reaching Chicago.
(Title from Jack Stauber — Cunk).
