Time To Settle Accounts
January 19, 2012: A day.
In the morning, I went to bed.
I’d been up all night working on the final edit of an interview with the Reader’s Ben Joravsky, and then posting the story, finding each photo, copying each youtube link. I tweeted the story around 7 a.m., emailed the links to Ben, emailed friends and family, closed my computer and walked into my room, where my phone’s morning alarm was going off. I called Kris and wished her a great day, said goodnight, and went to sleep.
At noon, I woke, and started checking hits. I was very excited about the story and hoped others would be too. I wrote, transcribed tape for another series, edited two stories, and read. I read about the SOPA protests, enjoyed free music, and continually attempted to open blocked wikipedia pages.
In the afternoon I conducted another interview for my journalism series, this one with freelance writer David Drake. Turns out Dave is an Evanston guy, just like me and Ben. He attended Haven (my middle school) for 6th grade, and attended Nichols (Ben’s middle school) for 7th and 8th. I called Ben after the interview to tell him, and to talk about early response to the story and Ben’s new foray into twitter.
In the evening I ordered Harold’s and ate dinner, then met a college friend for drinks. I ran into him at an art exhibit in December, my first time seeing him since 2004. Unbeknownst to him, his belief in me during our junior year helped launch my writing career to its next level. I thanked him over drinks and told him about his impact on my work, particularly interesting on a day of some writing success.
On the way home I stopped by Myopic Books and caught the tail end of chess night. I played against a man named Tom who had, two weeks earlier, taught me a chess variation in which white plays with four pawns and a king, but gets two moves for every one black move. We have yet to figure out a way to win with black.
Drunk, smiling, and full of chess wisdom, I returned home. I climbed into bed, still in my jeans and sweater, and called Kris to end my day. She’d had a good one too.
“Good night,” I said.
“Talk tomorrow,” she said.
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