CHICAGO
AH. Chicago. I dug Chicago. Oh, don't get me wrong. The performance
sucked. But I expected nothing less.
No. I'm talking about the city. The place is a writer's haven (except
it's just too damn cold there). DINERS everywhere. Cozy little diners
with waitresses named Betty who warm up your coffee, give you the
paper, and ask you things like "How's this chilly mornin' treatin'
ya?" SHIT, did I love those diners. AND the waitresses. The gum-smacking
big-haired waitresses. They looked like they had just stepped out
of some detective story.
I did a lot of thinking in Chicago. I flew in without a place to
stay, barely any money, and a really bad feeling that the plane was
going to crash in one of those weird shaped fields. Things got worse.
The theater space was really different, so we had to reconfigure alot
of elements in the show. I got lost looking for the hostel (which
was not heated) and started my period that night. Oh yeah. And it
was raining. Hardcore.
So I had the moment of "JESUS CHRIST, what next?" And then
I started laughing. The people on the street must have thought I was
crazy. I was freezing, soaked, loaded down with equiptment, lost,
and had a very noticible stain on my pants. I didn't know what else
to do, so I fucking laughed my ass off.
Then shit got better. I found a cozy little diner. A huge spread
of hashbrowns. Enjoyed about 100 cigarettes INSIDE (damn that new
NY law). Then I talked to Betty. Betty gave me a paper and introduced
me to Frank (I'm not making these names up). Frank bought me a coffee.
Yeah. I dug Chicago. Couldn't live there. Just too cold. But they
all liked my shoes and wished me luck on opening night.
And you know what? I actually enjoy it when some people call me 'sweetheart.'
Really. I do. It made my day. It got me through all three horrible
nights of the show.
Back in NY, things are rocky. But I'm more determined than ever to
not mope around for the next 4 months. I just don't have the energy
to be sad. And damn it, it's almost sundress season. That's right.
Sundresses. It might be small or superficial. But it's a start. And
who knows, maybe wind will fill the dress around my knees when I walk.
That might make it easier to get to the train. Small change. But if
I can get myself to the train smiling, then maybe I can smile at something
else (even if its accidental). Do you see my logic?