Home Alone: Trapped in O'Hare International Airport!

that's such a catchy title! they should make a movie or something that sounds like that, like i don't know ... Home Alone: Lost in New York or something. and maybe it could be the sequel or something

Jul 30, 2023

WELL, WELL, LOOK WHO IT IS. Decided to show up this Sunday, I see, even though you were here last Sunday, awaiting a thorough, poetic, emotional newsletter called Circle Back only to discover that there WASN’T one. There was no Circle Back last week, and if I were a boring, anxious person who desired all of your validation, I would apologize to you. BUT I’M NOT GOING TO APOLOGIZE because I was busy and I was working at Pitchfork Music Festival and I was hanging out with my mom in Chicago also my flights kept getting canceled and delayed trying to return to New York, so instead of writing this newsletter in the airport whilst I waited, I had to do my actual paying job because I was STUCK in O’HARE all DAY. And you know what? While you were waiting for a weekly newsletter Sunday night that wasn’t going to arrive, do you know what you could’ve been doing instead? CHURCH. Sunday is Circle Back Day and also The Lord’s Day, so your job that day should’ve been church. This Ken’s job is Church — Barbie movie joke better go see it if you wanna laugh at my joke!

So, yeah, if you’re expecting an apology, you can forget it. I’M NOT SORRY* and never will be for going with the flow of each day. The missing episode of Circle Back was not a Sunday sometimes Monday moment. We’re moving on.

*i am actually so sorry i’ve been thinking about how i didn’t write it since last sunday and it’s been keeping me up every night i even bought a Pillow Cube ™ to try to sleep better but it didn’t work because i have been so excited to apologize to you all about not writing it last week i truly am sorry please forgive me

As I said earlier, last weekend was Pitchfork Music Festival, which is a music festival I have worked every year since the day I was born in July 2015. My first job there was passing out free M&Ms, and now I’m the Sunday headliner. I’m just messin’ I run the PLUS check-in area, which is a space for people who purchased an upgraded GA ticket. They have their own space and their own bathrooms and don’t get anything for free. This year, the check-in area also happened to be a place for a middle-aged mother to come over and tell us that she can’t find her husband and daughter and is lost. And when we asked if she could call them, she said she didn’t have her phone. And so when we asked her where she lost them, she said by the funnel cake area. And then I said what is the funnel cake area that you are speaking of, to which she replied by pointing in the direction she came from. So we asked her if she should go back to where she lost them and hope for the best, and she said, okay, yeah, that’s a good idea. And then we said okay, and then she said if we see a girl with glasses and red hair that’s her daughter, and we said right. And then she looked at us for a little while longer and then silently turned around and walked into the mist. Now that I think about it, the mist may have been the powdered sugar they put on funnel cakes. I think Pitchfork needs a new sign next year that’s similar to the Disney World one, which is something like, “Kids Are Never Lost; Parents Are” and have that sign at the funnel cake station. We honestly have no idea if she ever found them. I looked at the security guards who were standing next to us that whole time and asked them if they saw that lady tell us she was lost, and they said, “WhAt LaDy??? I tHiNk YoU wErE TaLkInG tO A gHoSt, KeRrY!! 0o0o0o0o0o.” Pitchfork is cuckoo bananas, you guys.

Other than that, the festival ran so smoothly (I think), and there were a lot of amazing sets from a lot of artists that I’ve been wanting to see for a long time. Here are some of the ones I photographed:

A fun weekend, a tiring weekend, a weekend that I love, and a weekend that my mom doesn’t love because when I come home for this specific weekend I give all of my time to it and maybe five minutes to my mom. It’s something we’re continuing to work through.

Before I get into my review of Barbie, I have to talk about a specific type of audience member that drives me cuckoo bananas every single time, and that type of audience member is: The Audience Member Who Thinks They Can Steal The Stand-Up Comedy Show. Hmm, I think that could’ve been a little smoother probably. The Audience Member Who Thinks They’re Funnier Than The Comedian. I feel like that one was just as long. If anyone has any ideas, please drop them in the comments.

BUT YOU KNOW who I’m talking about. You’ve seen them, you’ve maybe met them, and they might even be a friend of yours (which you may need to reconsider). They shout at the comic, or they get called on by the comic and then try to make jokes and take away from the actual show. They interrupt the comic or tell a story and try to do their own stand-up set — basically, they’re the worst. They’re in, like, the Top 5 worst people in the world — right up there next to Vladimir Putin.

My friend, Owen, and I went to go see Cat Cohen and Pat Regan’s show Seek Treatment the other night, which is based on their podcast where people call in seeking treatment about sex, dating, family, blah blah blah, and Cat and Pat give their very funny advice. Whenever they do it as a live show, people will text a number on the screen with their stories, and the two of them can choose which ones they want to call up. But since the other night was their final live show for however long, they just let people raise their hands — which is a terrible idea. Everyone thinks they have a hilarious story to tell. One girly raised her hand and got called on, and she instantly tried to take away from Cat and Pat. She was interrupting and trying to say things that were almost belittling and it got to a point where the audience was uncomfy and Cat pointed to her own head and asked the girly if anything was going on up there. And then the story she told was about how she wanted to break up with a guy who didn’t know how to read a room. Perhaps she and this man are actually meant for each other.

Anyway, do not bring this person to a comedy show. And if you are this person, do not go to a comedy show.

I so badly wanted to do a Barbenheimer (Barbie and Oppenheimer) double feature when both of those movies released on the same day, but I was Home Alone: Trapped In O’Hare and was not able to do the double feature the way I wanted to. Currently, I’m doing the double feature by having seen Barbie and planning to see Oppenheimer this Thursday and not sleeping between the two for however many days it takes to see them both. So far, it’s been almost a week, but I Die 4 The Movies.

First, I’m not gonna lie to you: Barbie was a very fun movie. Secondly, I’m not gonna lie to you: I cried. Thrice. I’m sure this is what everyone’s telling you to get you to go see the movie, but Barbie is a movie for people who didn’t like Barbies growing up. It’s also a movie for people who did like them. It’s also just a good movie for people who appreciate great dialogue. As I’ve probably mentioned in the past, I’m a huge fan of Greta Gerwig’s writing. You’ve gotta be good at dialogue to write a movie about a doll that so many people hated. And at the end of the movie, I didn’t even walk out saying, “Ugh, I love Barbie!” And I don’t think the movie was trying to make you love the doll, either. It was a cutie little movie about how you don’t need to meet impossible expectations in order to thrive, and it was a movie that was just made for audience to laugh and cry to as a community. I don’t feel like we’ve had that kind of movie experience since before the pandemic began. Greta Gerwig and Noah Baumbach took something so impersonal, like a doll that exclusively walks on its toes, and made it feel very personal. It made you (me) cry 15 minutes into the movie at a scene that lasted maybe 11 seconds.

Contrary to popular belief, I used to play with Barbies. I would line my Barbies up based on which one was the most important to whatever story I was making up in my head, and when I would leave the room my mom would switch the line up to see if I’d notice (a cruel, cruel woman). There would be up to 15 or so Barbies there, and I’d know where they were supposed to go when I returned to find them in the wrong order. I became a Polly Pocket girl soon after, and my mom continued to quiz my memory, only to discover that the stories I would make up were elaborate and intricate enough where each Barbie or Polly Pocket had a supporting role important enough to get nominated for an Academy Award. I was not, I repeat, NOT an American Girl Doll girl. Those girls were blinking on their own, and I do not appreciate the fear they put in me at such a young age.

Alright, we’re all caught up now! Two weeks in one. Other than those updates, the other two are: aliens are real, and Mitch Mcconnell is probably one of them. Google “Mitch Mcconnell frozen” and you’ll agree.

Have a wonderful week! It seems that this week isn’t supposed to be as roasting as it has been, so I’m really looking forward to taking one shower a day instead of two.

movie rec for you: Barbie

movie rec for me: Oppenheimer

book rec: Show Them A Good Time by Nicole Flattery — funny book of short stories by an author that Sally Rooney has recommended in the past if you’re looking for some more of THAT

music rec: Charlotte Adigéry — the funnest set at Pitchfork last weekend

something I’ve noticed: whistlers are the only people in the world who treat people who can’t whistle like they’re morons

someone to watch out for: Ariana Grande

a video of Weyes Blood to watch:

Loading video