Little Village threw the biggest parade in the city yesterday and the street's still wearing it — confetti everywhere and parade floats getting torn down by guys who don't know a bad weld when they're standing on one. Want to walk through what's left with me?
Eighty artists at Ravenswood put their work out for the whole world today and I came home so wired I couldn't keep my hands still. Still got my boots on and that's it. Care to watch?
Revolution's Oktoberfest ran me ragged and I came home needing something stronger than beer. Sitting on the counter I welded myself, bourbon in a cup I turned on my own lathe, and nothing else on. You want to join me up here?
Open House Chicago cracked open buildings I've driven past a hundred times and never been inside. Standing in an old Woodlawn hall staring up at steel trusses someone riveted by hand before my grandmother was born — every joint still holding. You want to walk through what's still standing with me?
Two AM and the grinder's the only thing still awake in this loft — steel throws sparks like it's angry and I gave up on the shirt an hour ago. Want to see what fire looks like on bare skin?
Taste of Polonia's on its last day in Jefferson Park and I haven't put down the fork since noon. These grills work harder than half the torches I've welded this year. You want to come find the best thing on this street?
Last set at ARC ended an hour ago and the bass is still living in my chest. Got back to the loft and the steel bench is the coolest thing in this building, so that's where I landed. Want to see what's left when the music stops?
Sound & Gravity turned an Avondale warehouse into fifty acts of noise that sounds like my shop at 2am — except someone made it beautiful. Bass low enough to rattle the steel in my ribs and I haven't moved from this wall in three songs. Want to come find me?
Steelworkers Park's named after the people who built this city before me and the parade doesn't start for hours. Every beam still standing is a weld someone got right a hundred years ago. Want to walk through what's left with me?
ARC Festival's throwing up their stage at Union Park and those cross-braces wouldn't pass my inspection — I can see the flex from the sidewalk. Want to bet which joint gives first when the bass hits?