it was officially the first night i was out in chicago, and said what the fuck? and laughed at the absurdity of the situation.
there i was, at the dank haus. like the anthenaeum in indianapolis but 8 floors, and a lot more marble and fancy wood, listening to a jazz band consisting of two blacks, 3 hispanics, and one guy directly from munich.
like i said to kirsten rogers, pretty much the demographics of logan square.
they played under a giant picture of the matterhorn, and garlands of paper in the german colors.
above the bar was a picture of that big gate in berlin, where the soviet guy waved the flag after wwII.
then todd from connecticut introduced himself to kirsten and i, he said he was new in town, his wife and him just moved from newark? connecticut, he had no idea where logan square was, i told him west. he then proceeded to dance with some young chick. another chick danced with a fag.
sometimes i wonder if i will be like todd one day, completely wasted and talking to really young strangers and dancing, well i would call it copying the moves of the chick as best you can. besides, there's not really a rhythm in jazz.
there i was, talking to kirsten rogers and getting boyfriend advice. from kirsten rogers. who sat behind me all year in american history, and gave a cool talk about rothko, and who hung out with a really different crowd. only now is it apparent that we love life in chicago, having someone to make out with, drink with, and generally have a good time.
we also didn't have cash at the diner so we ran out.