u s e y o u r h a n d s

My meter for measuring summer/spring happiness was set by a Riunite commercial I saw when I was seven. The image I remember, that I try to capture, is of linen-clad adults seated in comfy deck chairs near a lake at someone’s summer house. The sun is setting and the light turns that delicious caramel color. Broad smiles shine over the rim of a glass of Riunite Asti Spumante. And, my, how they laugh!

I don’t try to find the exact setting because I don’t have a summer place nor know anybody who does and it will be a cold day in Hell before I bring Riunite anything to my lips, but that feeling of relaxation, comfort, and joy is what I chase.

This weekend was lovely. On Friday, Phineas, Stephen, and I met up in Wicker Park and grabbed some pizza while scoping out the very declasse foam/mesh trucker hat. We sat a spell in Bigwig, then attended a gallery opening. But were were not done! At midnight, we cruised to the Music Box and watched Fast Times at Ridgemont High.

Phineas and I started Saturday early and drove up to Milwaukee to visit the absolutely fucking stunning Milwaukee Art Museum. If you haven’t been, you must. The MAM looks like heaven’s waiting room. Or an airport. Either one. We saw one of my favorite conceptual art pieces by Robert Gober and a bizarre Bill Viola. We had a lovely lunch in the Brady Street district and headed home. We swung by the Naturalizer outlet and I scored some super comfy, moderately cute sandals for $12.

That night, we had a lovely dinner at the Creperie to welcome Louisa back to America. The group trekked to Gramercy on Lincoln and I had two very potent, very yummy gin martinis. Decadent.

We loafed for most of Sunday, puttered about. Enjoyed the day. On Monday, we cleaned up the place, and prepped food to take to the Cooper-Huffs delightful condo up in Roger’s Park. We had a truly delightful time, enjoying both the 70 degree weather and chat with our hosts. Andrew treated Phineas to a bit of his very nice, very rare Ladyburn scotch.

And we headed home and collapsed. A lovely weekend. A Riunite weekend.

Hey, hey, hey! It’s Friday. You know, reading MCs here at good ol’ Use Your Hands is a great way to top off another great week! With no further ado, campers, take a gander at these select Missed Connection/Second Chance/I Saw You ads from around the country, with my story below.

BEAUTY AND GRACE – Wish To Talk At Wollaston T stop, we both like the last car. We meet around 8:35. You, beautiful well dressed redheaded lady with glorious blue eyes. I’m tall dark hair guy in green North Face jacket. Our eyes meet all the time. To shy to date to introduce myself. Would like to start conversion on the daily commute. (Boston Globe)

Today, Bryan sits forlornly in his North Face jacket. He sips his coffee loudly and frowns like a little boy. At the Wollaston Stop, he tries to forget about her. She must have started taking the train at a different time to avoid him because he hasn’t seen her since the ad. The train pulls away from the stop and he watches Wollaston grow smaller as it slips rapidly from his fingers. Someone sits down next to him and elbows him in the ribs. “I’ve been on vacation,” she says and smiles.

WE WERE BOTH at Radio Shack in Downers Grove/ Westmont on May 12th. You were purchasing a metal detector. Your name is David. I wanted to talk to you but didn’t know what to say. Hope you respond. (Chicago Reader)

“I hope nobody thinks this is some gay thing,” Gary muttered when he hung up the phone after placing the ad. He simply wanted to ask about David’s hobby. For some time, he had been interested in metal detection as well, but he was reluctant to approach enthusiasts on the Lakeshore. If he doesn’t hear from David, he’ll just go to the library to look it up on the Internet.

AMTRAK 4/19 BAKERSFIELD to Fresno. Car 3 upstairs, across aisle. You: male, tank top, CD player, came downstairs when I got off at Fresno. Me: male, sunglasses, black travel bag. Would like to meet. Please describe yours and seatmate’s appearances to verify identity. (OC Weekly)

The suspicious-looking man had been shooting him sidelong glances ever since Pixley, but he knew that the worst thing that you could do while traveling Amtrak (or Greyhound) was to engage a stranger in a conversation. He exercised his peripheral vision to examine the man. The suspicious man was clutching his black bag fiercely and sort of looked Middle Eastern. After the guy got off in Fresno, the man took out his cell and reported the suspicious man to the FBI.

TMBG/CROC TUES. 5/6 U: Hot Cha man shaved bald, t-shirt, whistling in the dark. ME: Particle Man freakstorm w/ short hair, goatee, glasses. If I wasn’t shy, I’d be your evil twin. C’mon and wreck my car. (The Stranger)

If he had the money, this ad would have been way, way longer, but Burt stopped with this witty bit. Burt would have added:

I love this band. A lot, to tell the truth. I have an obsession. I have been lonely for a long time, and I’d like to find someone to share this obsession with. I just want to be able to talk with someone about this band, this band I love, and have them understand. Please write me back. I can love you and we can love this band.

She reached into the bag for another chocolate and was dismayed to discover only one left. She put the chocolate on the table gently, like a sacred thing, crumpled up the bag and threw it across the room. The plastic ball springs open like a live thing when it hits the floor. The candy’s foil wrapper sparkles seductively, but she reclines into the couch and waits. Saliva pools in her mouth and her tongue puckers.

There is a war between the chocolate and herself, and she knows she will lose, because she will be the first one to reach out. But there is also a love affair. The chocolate is coy and coquettish, knowing all the time she will be devoured.

She picks up the chocolate and slowly peels the wrapper off and balls it between her fingers before tossing it toward the discarded bag. It ricochets off the wall and rolls under a chair. In her head, she’s got this whole idea about how she’s going to eat the last candy, but she changes her mind. The windows are open. Nobody can see her, but she starts to think the last candy ritual is dumb. Instead, she pops it in her mouth, but the anticipation makes her mouth hurt when it meets such flavor.

This lady at work has a daughter chronically sick with strep throat. She mentioned that the doctors are discussing the removal of tonsils.

I had my tonsils removed in my sixteenth year. I was out of school for more than two weeks and developed a love affair with liquid codeine and the movie JFK. I’d wake up, stir more liquid codeine into warm apple juice, go to the bathroom, and rewind the movie. For weeks. I recorded my copy of JFK off tv, and all the curse words were dubbed over with “frick” and “motherfletcher.”