Chicago Digs

I said I was thankful for the life we’re living right now. Young vulgar and excited. Grace turned back toward the windshield of our sedan and sang. “Fucking Chicago. Were in Fucking Chicago. This happened” she said. I told her that it’s happening now.

We meet our destiny on the road to avoid it. We can always find our way back once we get there. Wherever there is. Well find there on the way to there.

We traveled in time to make it to the twelve o clock traffic. As we entered, the industrial American surroundings were super even compared to Pittsburgh. The clouds were so thick that the sky was cohesively white. This is the biggest city I’ve been to and were going to fair well here for the next few days.

There we stood on a bridge–over the river in the middle of the city. The clouds were less thick and rather moddled now, the air was spot on. I concentrated on the wind and forced myself to feel it. I hung the upper half of my body over the bridge rail and I wasn’t afraid.

They call it the windy city because it’s never stagnant. Not the air nor the people. Even more so when the sun falls. We motherfucked our way into the Chicago night scene and dug it for hours. I paid off the bouncer, gave him a twenty and some bullshit. He looked over his shoulder and waved me into the triple tiered bi-building club. I followed Kate and Lauren, their fakes in hand. All I needed was a twenty spot and some balls.

The next morning we rose much too early. The clouds had rolled in again and this time the rain plodded down from the lightening-cracked dome. We all reminded ourselves that we were in Fucking Chicago and looked out the window at the window-embedded monsters. We pulled the thick curtains in and the room was pitch black. Not a particle of the sun shone in. We laid in our beds together in the cave and turned the music up. Grace was on the corner chair in a fetal curl.

We wandered into and around the ornate Chicago Theater. Just grace and I went off and made our way to the top level and stared wide eyed at the ceiling. The faces came out of the walls and there were more stone-eyes on us than there were flesh-eyes. The theater was other timely and us modern bodies seemed to only bruise the venues look. Empty is what the theater looks like it should be. For the visuals are far too intricate for any of us from the distracted-generation to appreciate.

Why can’t something perfect happen? Grace said we used up all the perfect last night. But Kate said we were just dumbasses and it worked out. To me it’s all the same.

I want to go on one of those balconies. I said and looked wide eyed at the building across the street. And jump off.

With a parachute.

“I like it when you put it on my face.” Laur was speaking of Kate’s blankey. Tattered and worn. Lauren keeps saying that Kate is gay because she let’s an unlit cig hang from her mouth while were all sitting in bed. Kate is literally gay but we all laugh heartily and light heartidly. The comments pass with no second thoughts and surely nothing sour. We’re free. We’ve been as said for hours now. And we’re loving it, just getting buzzed up.

But Chicago is like any city at midnight on Sunday. Ruined by the sabbath, quiet. I left the hotel drunk and Gracey came along. We strolled about the city in a square path so I could smoke a Marlboro. Almost no one was out, but we did pass by two strangers. I looked in their faces and told them I was digging Chicago. They laughed at me and I laughed back. It’s all funny in a sense if you think of it like that.

We came back and Laur and Kate were in bed. I got in bed too but I was drunk so I stayed propped up and dictated what was in my toxic mind. Grace talked nonsense and of course Lauren was silently scoffing. Except when she broke the silence and asked grace why she was talking so excited. I answered for her and replied because were in Fucking Chicago. Grace doesn’t want to leave. Neither do I. We can rest when were dead. For now I’m wide awake, full-bellied and dizzy-minded.

Your eyes speak lies, ours are truthful. We chanted this over and over. We said it to Lauren because her eyes say she is tired. For us there is no time for tired. Our eyes are the truth. Grace chanted for sleep at death and whispered to Lauren. She ignored us, irritated. We threw our legs up and down on the mattress and kept chanting. We made fire alarm noises then fart sounds with our mouths.

I threw up in the toilet we shit in for 2 days.

I heaved so hard that my eyes became bloodshot and tears fell from them. I convulsed so greatly that my head hit the toilet seat with every spasm. The feeling of a half-digested sandwich lingered in my throat until I fell asleep and couldn’t feel it anymore.

Were leaving Chicago with a bang in the speakers and some separation anxiety. We made sure to look at everything passing, even the tattered rail yards and crumbly brick houses.

If life could prosper anywhere it would be here. Why can’t people see that earth is our creator? That’s all I think about when I look at the passing landscape. The clouds are layered there is depth. The sun is the incubator and creates our colors. All I see is green and strong except where man has filled over the vegetation with black stone paste. But that in fact is the best part. That we didn’t have to create the conditions they promoted us. Too many forget to praise our true mother-universe.

But about the black pavement we put here: we love being on the road. Continually getting somewhere but much better yet we’re always leaving. I think we all love leaving.

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