end of the line

don't feel much like writing these days
waiting for confessions and resolutions
(plus i'm sick, have been for days)

american spirit

it doesn't matter if the work is any good
as long as the hot french man takes off his shirt
and the ticket is free...

days like today i can't tell if my tongue is in my cheek or not

but i can still see...

ode to chicago

it was fun while it lasted
(photos tomorrow when i'm feeling less sick and more patient than i am now)

damaged goods (reprise)

bummed a cigarette from some cute european techies
talked about their stay
then the stars appeared
(giant golden moon slung low in the sky over the water behind us)
the totally hot french guy invited us to follow him inside, back to where the party was starting...
at the end of the evening he grabbed my arm and looked deep into my eyes (there's a theme here lately)
a movie moment
more than worth the sacrifice of red wine on an empty stomach (reception veggies for dinner)



waiting to cross the street and two cops fully checked me out (turned heads and all)
not a bad night...

novelty / joy

Q. where were you twenty years ago when we built all of this?

A. here, actually. i was right here.

learning when to keep my mouth shut, and grateful for those who listen.

black ice

catching up
falling behind
planning a little trip...

there's still this story from the other night about a belligerent fifty-one year old "anarchist" who mistook me for a "twenty year old rich artist hipster kid."

there's so much wrong with that on so many levels...
another time