"A picture says a thousand words."

Let me see if I can wrap my mind around this concept. That's right — wrap my literal brain around this figurative notion.

I was talking to my artist friends; that's right — artist friends, and we had a similar inkling re: this notion. And we, meaning: me, myself and I, as I have only one "artist friend," aside from myself,that I actually mentioned this brief passing thought to — nonetheless, we came to the conclusion that this is just poppycock. Real, fiddlestickiness, if you will.

Which, you will.

Pictures might make you feel somethin' a'stirrin' inside your soul, but no, they don't actually say any sort of words, no little phrases, no little sweet nothin's purred into your ear. And while many would say, "That's a shame," those are the same people that won't even pick up a goddamn book.

So remember this, friends, I said it, and not some picture.

None of these pictures up top say anything. I googled "A picture says a thousand words," and I got mostly cartoons with captions.

"Love is a dog from hell."

Well, this just can't be true.

There are arguments that seem sound enough  — that "God is Love" or "All things are possible with love." There are other arguments that believe "Love conquers all." And still others that believe "All you need is love."

And while I don't believe this particular quote pairing love with hell and dogs is honestly a truth, it's too often tough to believe all those other quotes about love.

Isn't that sad?

You Can't Take it With You:

"We All Die Alone," performing at...
Gorilla Tango

Enjoy what you have and try to stop obsessing over what you don't have. When you finally bite the dust all you get to take is yourself.

Over the last few months I've had the opportunity to focus my energy on being an 85-year-old woman in "We All Die Alone," a geriatric-sex-comedy featured at The Gorilla Tango Theatre in Chicago's Bucktown neighborhood.

It's been quite the trip to act in a play as an oldie, but a goodie. And, I suppose it's opened even further the notion that you only have so much time to do what you want to do, say what you want to say and act how you want to act — so my feeling is this, knock yourself out. You only get one at-bat.

"All work and no play makes Jack a dull boy."

Two sides of the same coin here, I'll say.

I say it only because one day I hope to high heaven I have a job that doesn't feel like work, though it is, and instead of sucking the life out of me, will make me a more interesting, deeper, more intelligent person.

But, alas, right now, all I can say is: "I'll Say!" As you can tell from the infrequency of these posts, I fear my day job has wreaked havoc on my play time! For the next two to fifty years I will be taking suggestions on how to make Jack more interesting. Thanks!

"The squeeky wheel gets the grease."

I wish this was true.

For the last four weeks I have been sweating ballz in my apartment. It's 92 degrees today, and all of my windows are open. There is no respite from this Chicago heat. It's surprising to me that I'm not dead ... especially if you take into account my lack of hydration and overindulgence on Coca Cola products. Thanks, Summer.

The thing is, my landlord is a douche. I suppose I should say landlords or landcompany. Our unit is owned by a building company (who rents to lowly post-grads) and are not yet able to sell the land for a crap ton, before knocking this three flat down and throwing up a mansion. They don't care about me, my roommate or my neighbors. Nope. And, that is why it doesn't matter how squeaky I am; they will not put in our air-conditioner; they will not replace the blinds that look out into our neighbors window, where they can clearly see us roaming around in the nearly nude; or be helpful in any other way.

Squeak as I might, it is for naught.