September 24, 2010

First Reflections of the Second City

Chicago is a queer place. No, I'm not talking about the fairies in my fiction writing class. I'm talking about how strange this place is. The buses are never on time. To the point I make sure to leave late so I'm not waiting 20 minutes, chain-smoking with an elderly Asian man who looks nothing like Mr. Miyagi. The thugs on the train stare at me and sometimes mutter shit under their breath when they walk by me. They all wear Yankees hats (wrong city, asshole). I get nauseous on the 5th floor of the film building. You can't drive after 3 pm anywhere remotely close to downtown. Rent is high, beer is expensive and common decency is low. When I walk into a neighborhood bar, it gets quiet as the regulars size me up in a few brief, but eternal, seconds. Jesus doesn't save and it's not even called the Sears Tower anymore. Might as well just run some planes into it.

But whatever. It's sweet. I live in Chicago. My kinda town. The movie theaters have bars in them and the drinks only cost $15. My kinda movie theater. The sluts dress nicer and there's way more homeless people than back home. My kinda street walkers and social deviants.

Overall, I've only been up here for a while now, and most of the time has been spent riding on public transit or sitting in uncomfortable stadium-style seating at an over-priced, underwhelming college. So, like I said, this is just the tip of the iceberg. Just the tip. in ur butt

That's a big 10-4 captain.

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