bored! in that flat city of wind... CHICAGO!

sweatshirt twentysomething. justifying her splurge...
"he lost his cellphone over a week ago. well, he didn't lose it exactly..."
the memory soured her a moment.
"unfortunate toilet mishap?" I offered.
"no...well.....no. the friendly neighborhood homeless man kind of stole it, actually."
"doesn't sound very friendly to me."
"no, i guess not." sighing..."he used to be. asking for change, making conversation...he was always on Damen by the park, probably slept there nights....we all adored him."
"Uh, really."
i pause and put a neighborhood to her address.
"that's right by the brown line stop, right...got that Canton hole-in-the-wall next door? take out only. a solitary card table for seating."
"yeah! canton...something." she brightened at a landmark.
i tried to remember why i'd ever spent time there.
"back in the day...i used to hang with the manager of that Christian Science Reading Room past Winnemac."
she shook her head. "fun place to hang out?"
"I never went in. used to bum smokes from the manager while she stood outside, glaring at the world."
I had a little crush that summer.
"No one ever came by to read, which was just as well. She wasn't even a Christian, much less a scientist."
"I think that place closed down."
I tried to remember.
"I dunno. They fired my friend. She was pregnant, and they got mad."
"Pregnant and she SMOKED?"
"Well...I think she was trying to kill her baby. Either that, or toughen him up."

there's always a group going to
the clubs. there's always a group going to
the rock show. there's always some kids
who just want to crawl Lincoln drinking
cheap beer. there's always a set of people
riffin the Improv or TooMuchLight or
SecondCity. there's always the sleazy high
school friends chasing the house party with
three kegs. and always the high times
brigade getting baked in a basement, a car
in a parking lot, a movie theater, etc. the
north shore brats infiltrating a tuxedo
reception at navy pier. unlocked backrooms at indoor arenas we rai
for bottles. Recycled VIP bracelets abused as we barely suppress the smirks.
god bless chicago. way more to do
here than in idaho.
but when you're too old for petty crime and too young for rehab...what then?

PS Scissor Sisters annnnnyone? the 8th of october? little known biblical fact- only those inside the Aragon on that night will be spared the apocalypse. Oh, yeah, it's in four days. Check the almanac.

as i exit the green line at clinton street, a docile hobo is trying to talk his way through the turnstyles. "so they said i should just go," he reasons out loud, "just board anyway, no pass, just quit talkin and do it." the girl in the CTA tollbooth grunts "Nope," never looking up from the Sun-Times horoscopes.
"Just get going, already. Just get on that train, if that's what I had to do," he suggests hopefully. She grunts. "Won't you...you won't open it?"
He started to lose his resolve. "I'm sure that...they said that I should do it!"
She folds the page.
i make my way to the CTA offices half a block west. I need to replace my stupid bus pass.
It's one of those cards that refills from a bank account, and I've had it forever, but one day last week I noticed the laminated plastic coating was starting to curl up at the corners. So I peeled it all off. It was a fun way to kill some time.
A few days later, the damn card snapped in half for no apparent reason.
Turns out the lamination was there to protect it, the poor little thing.
You see, every morning of the week, I pull the pass out of a billfold and wave it at a scanner.
Who would expect a thick plastic card to survive such brutal treatment?
They don't make plastic the way they used to.
Not that I know how plastic is or ever was made.

Meanwhile, at work, I'm required to wear a dark blue company issued short sleeve shirt.
I work four days a week. I have four of these shirts.
When hired, I requested these be size medium.
My boss chuckled and said "How about large?"

What was wrong with medium? I always wear medium. I'm short and I have slender shoulders.
Boss man seemed to think he knew my size better than I did. Ten minutes after we first were introduced.
Rather than quit, I accepted my fate.
Thus I endure daily these dark blue button down ponchos. Untucked, they descend to my knees.
So much more shirt than I will ever need.
And so much less carded plastic.
Anyone else out there in the opposite predaciment?
Drop me a line.

I don’t think she meant anything by it. do you think she meant any...? No. No! Of course not. It’s ridiculous, it’s so silly, I’m so paranoid for saying it, I’m paranoid for even THINKING it. That’s crazy. Not at all! She didn’t know...she just....
No. There’s no way she could have known.
Come on! Just busting out like that with full knowledge....she’s not a MEAN girl. I don’t think. You feel me? I mean I don’t know her that...she seems normal. She seems nice. I see her at amy’s all the time, most weekends anyway. Well, the weekends that I’m there. She’s always just FLOATING around, talking, laughing...I can’t remember her ever being mean like...She just didn’t know.
All the same, it makes me mad, right? It pisses me off! Just a little b- well, okay, more than a little bit. Not a lot, but now I'm getting....Because. Christ! Even if she didn’t get that, regardless of...whatever! She didn’t know. Unless she was just totally guessing, throwing some shit out there to see if I reacted- if WE reacted to it.
Do you think she could tell we were surprised? I don’t think she had any...I just sort of smiled and changed the subject.
But.....even if she didn’t know, still, that shit is TOUCHY. Who, I mean, what kind of person just drops that right out in the open? You can tell she didn’t come up around here. You can TELL she’s not from around here. Cuz here, I mean us, you and I, the kids we grew up with, fuck, high school...just like today, it....god!
That shit is not discussed, right? We don’t talk directly about those sorts of...right? When was the last time you and I just sat down and randomly....just starting spitting words about....just, you know, all THAT. Except when we discuss What Actually Happened.
That’s totally different.
We’re not just TALKING about it, in the abstract, just for fun, for our own goddamn amusement, just to make conversation. No. We’re not talking about it to talk about it. No. We’re talking about THAT. That one time, those few times....when it, when, for whatever reason, it was just, like, what happened. Not gossip. Just what actually fucking happened.
Cuz it actually happened to us.................

Do you think she knew?

are you there, margaret? it's me, god. yeah. um. could you keep it down, please?
a little peace and quiet, for a change? hey. let's give it a test drive, see if it works for us or not.
what? yes, that was a car salesman kind of metaphor. I thought I'd better dumb it down for you.
Really? All those nights, you never expected me to talk back? Aww. Haha. Come on, I'm freakin God! To quote that rapper Scarface, I "make the impossible look easy."
Hey, calm down, short pants. It's not like you're someone special to me. I talk to lots of people, I give out advice almost every day. Yeah, in this voice. The telemundo announcer voice. Loud and clear, like a hidden speaker system.
Not trying to brag, now, but my advice is freakin' awesome. It's infallible! I'm the Creator, right? I know my stuff. But no one EVER takes me seriously. People seem to be getting dumber every year, I swear.
People need a confidence boost when they shout in my direction; like you, Meg, they're full to the brim with small-change fears and pathetic little dreams. But I try to ignore all that whiny crap. Most of the advice I dispense in my telemundo voice is simple common sense. "Try an anti-dandruff shampoo!" is probably my favorite.
I really hoped you could figure this out for yourself. Every night, your monologue of petty drama pours forth, and every night so far, i gave no rebuttal.
But Margaret, I'm getting bored, so let's skip to the moral of the story, mmkay? Humans are cold, cruel people; self-interest runs the world. You'll get used to it. Teens become adults, middle age makes them ugly and fat, and all those insecurities and bad vibes are drowned in alcohol, family values and the sweet sweet release of the grave. so lighten up! try using some of that zit cream they advertise on the teevee. You'd feel prettier. And yes, Margaret, that is the secret of human happiness- feeling pretty.
Take it from the guy in the sky. or don't. but please stop calling me.