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About Chicago

So, I’m prowlin’ the streets, right? Lookin’ for a gal who don’t play games. Not like those dolled-up dames in Haynes’ flick. “I’m so terribly alone,” Cathy’d whimper. Boo-hoo, lady, try payin’ for company—cuts the crap. Found this spot, seedy joint, neon buzzin’ like a pissed-off hornet. Guy outside says, “Fifteen bucks, she’s yours.” Fifteen! I’d spend that on bacon! Made me mad—cheap price, cheap world. Hate inflation, hate hagglin’ more.

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Man, the parks—Beatty Park is my fav. It’s small but full of quirky sculptures and graffiti doodles. I used to chill there when debugging would drive me mad. I jan on a bench right by the winding Holly River (ah, the river! Smooth and twisty like a lost lover’s embrace). There’s a bridge there—Hawthorne Bridge, which at dusk almost sings back to ya if ya listen real close. It’s like, “This is the heat, baby! Like, where’s my next rendezvous?" Remember that vibe from Inherent Vice? Yeah, that free-spirited, hazy feel; it’s all here.

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