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My Culture Journal is a weekly series where residents share a look into their cultural lives. If you are interested in submitting a journal, please email to Mirror Indy arts and culture editor Jennifer Delgadillo at jennifer.delgadillo@mirrorindy.org and tell us about yourself.
Day One:
3:30 p.m. My wife Elise and I got our kid a balance bike. It’s bright green and he is very into it. We take it to Holliday Park and he insists on something like 20 laps around the ruins. We have to coax him to new paths. And just in time for a new highlight of the day: a toddler’s first sighting of a Zamboni on the ice rink. First time even hearing the word, “Zamboni.” But now it’s rapt awe until just as it passes near us and then an enthusiastic, “Zamboni.” That’s right, bud. That’s right.
Day Two:
8 p.m. “Waterworld” discussion with my movie club. None of us — a handful of grad school friends who’ve since scattered across the country — had seen it since the theater (or on VHS in my case) when we were kids. We talk about what could’ve been with a few tweaks here and there. I submit my theory that the movie as-is would’ve done better at the box office if Kevin Costner’s pirate pants weren’t so silly.
Day Three:
5:30 p.m. Dinner and a movie at the Kan-Kan with Elise. I get steamed buns and lasagna, plus a couple cocktails from two of my favorite humans, Forrest and Rocko. We see “Poor Things”; it does not disappoint. We grab a nightcap at the bar to digest the movie and talk about the human capacity for change and growth if a brain transplant is unavailable to us.
Day Four:
10 a.m. We go to The Children’s Museum with friends Cayla and Matt, who have a kid a few months older than ours. The kids run. They play. We try to catch up on life stuff in between us chasing them. At home, we have some olive-wood and sheepskin drums that my family in Tunisia gave me, and our kid is interested in them for maybe 30 seconds before moving on. But the drums in the third-floor Playscape hold him for a solid 5 minutes. Maybe something clicked for him there.
11 p.m. I read “Heretics of Dune” till I fall asleep. A passing thought: Why haven’t you submitted a short story for a while? A worry for another time.
Day Five:
Noon. A friend is starting a small film production company in New Orleans and asked if I wanted to work on branding for it. Which, yeah, of course. I watch enough movies that I should have all the studio logos memorized but still take a scroll through some indie companies to have a few ideas. Whatever it is, I’m excited to animate it.
8:30 p.m. I finally watch “Showing Up”. I love the Kelly Reichardt and Michelle Williams combo too much for it to be sitting so long in my queue. But that’s life with a toddler. This movie makes me want to disappear from work for a week and make something massive for myself then bury it in the earth.
Day Six:
10 a.m. We go to Central Library for some play time and to refresh our hoard of picture books. But the main attraction for our kid are the buffalo statues by the St. Clair steps. I ask if he wants to pet the buffalo and he says, “Yes,” but his fingers go straight for the nose.
Day Seven:
9 a.m. I’ve got some client work that has me on a deep dive with Taylor Swift music. While I’m designing. While I’m driving. While I’m walking the dog. I’ve heard three or four of her songs before, so this bespoke 46-song, three-hour playlist the client made for me has made me feel like I’ve been visiting another country for a few weeks and am trying to get a grasp on the language. I’m writing down helpful phrases in my Moleskine. I’m sketching moons and trucks and seagulls and champagne flutes.
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