The strange thing is that Chicago all seems like a dream to me now. It sounds cliche, but it feels weird looking back at it. It all seems to far from here and now. Too far to actually be possible.
The later part, the part where I lived downtown, that part seems real still. But the part where I lived at 2321 North Ave seems strange and dream-like. I actually lived that? I ask. And I remember it all, clearly even, but sometimes I feel like I'm watching someone else's life.
Those are the parts that I cherish though. The trying out every resturant at the Milwaukee/North/Damon "6 Corners". "The intersection" Mike would say. "Which intersection?" I'd respond. "THE intersection". The fact that it was only THE intersection to us didn't seem to bother Mike too much. He used to make me walk on the inside, where he'd walk on the outside, nearest to the street. The only other time I've heard of that is the secret service agents in West Wing. There were so many amazing resturants RIGHT there. Here, we struggle to find one each week that is worth returning to. I never had that problem in Chicago. There were so many places I wouldn't mind returning to again and again, and so many places that I still hadn't tried.
God, city life was so intoxicating. "Summer, in the city, in the city...back of our necks getting dirt and sweaty...cool cat, looking for a penny, gonna look in every corner of the city...but come night it's a different place, go out and find a girl, come on come on let's dance all night in the summer, in the city, in the summer, in the city." Ahh. Yesh. Hanging out on the roof. You know, it's not even necessarily that I did that many exciting things. It was just the feeling and the excitement. Looking out from the bus window and just being in awe of the city I lived in. God, I miss it. I miss it so much. I miss the energy, and the fact that everyone wanted to be outdoors in the summer. They were so excited that they COULD be outside. The lack of air conditioning. Sleeping in as little clothes as possible, and then arranging yourself so that as little of your skin as possible touched the bed. Opneing the window and wishing, wishing that the wind would blow in.
Sleep at Josh's because he had a fan. Not even in the bedroom, but in the kitchen adjacent to the bedroom. Anything was better than my apartment with the heat and the crazy cat that would attack me and run out my window and jump on the roof. She'd just hang out on the neighbor's roof. There's an urban cat for you. She'd jump from roof to roof...window to roof...porch to roof. And then she'd bite you. Because she was crazy like that. We made friends, though, and I missed her when she was gone.
I miss it. I've gotta get back there some day. One day. To the city. I love it. I miss it. Screw the snow. It'll be okay.