| dewy decimal |
2003-11-06 - 4:07 a.m.
Chicago was almost interesting. I stayed with Amy and her Ma at their apartment that was also furnished with piles, but these piles were made more of aged newsprint than architectural coffee table books- still very romantic.
I bonded with her Mom who was an independent woman, made so by a fanciful youth. When Amy was at work, we went to local coffee houses and I listened to her stories over breakfast meats and hash browns. She took me to grocery stores and walked with a kind of prideful posture when I carried the heavy bags around for her.
They lived in one of the many suburbs that are scattered on the outskirts of Chicago, their town was called Lisle. When Amy worked, I hopped on the Metra train into Chicago. On the ride I skimmed through train windows to watch the cinder block houses and tress pass quickly out of sight, while the commuters and school kids searched for seats on the double decker. The closer to Chicago we got, the more my sense of ethnic isolation seemed to dissipate.
When I arrived in Chicago I walked without map through downtown, looking up, and admiring how the sky started so much higher. The way the Cold criss-crosses the streets and slams you in the intersections.
Once, I took the wrong subway into the ghettos. I ambled around a bit and caught a bus into Boystown on Belmont. I remember there was a major league baseball game that was suppose to ensue at the stadium so the streets were packed with sports fans that held foam toys and sported painted faces.
In front of a record store where I bought some Bikini Kill and Deerhoof rareities, an esoteric hip hop type chick dropped her bag on the ground in front of me. I bent down and handed it to her. She took it and made a half-assed attempt at rolling her grave�s-diseased-eyes and didn�t say thanks or nothing. It was a shitty thing not to do.
Boystown seemed so vast and gay upon arrival, rainbow flags and banners flopped noiselessly in the cold, level wind. But an hour later it seemed too small, and it made me feel lonely. I started pining for Eve and Twan, my gang of sisters.
One night me and Amy cruised through Boystown and because Amy looks like Daisy Fuentes, all the gay boys loved her. No one seemed to pay me any mind. It was humbling after getting my scalp sucked and my dick smashed by pelvic thrusts in New York.
During my stay, we went to many clubs that were less than memorable, walked around Chicago, taking in the cool brush of air that had traveled across the lake, which makes Chicago feel like such a coastal town. We ate the smoldering deep dishes and walked through random bouts of rain to the museums. We drank and danced on VIP lists and I had to stop myself from wishing how I wish I was in new York instead.
New york, I'm coming home.