We can't go to Southern anymore. It's been overcome by those yuppy conformists east of the highway. I was standing at the bar drinking a pint of a fine stout discussing freudian hypotheses with the nice fellow next to me when all of a sudden a group of miscrants dressed in argyle and pressed oxfords stumbled in, shoved me out of the way and ordered hundreds of shots. It's like they just went to the bar to see how drunk they could get. It was madness. Why would you leave your apartment if that's all you wanted to do? Going out is for stimulating conversation with your fellow man...oh wait, they're going to the dance floor.
West of the highway, where dreams go to die and your drug dealer rides his bike home to: Welcome to Wicker park, the hippest hangout for young liberals with cash flow issues in Chicago. You'll find a lot of "artists" living out here, because this just in, artists don't make shit for cash. So they probably slang grass on the side or work at a barista in an independently owned coffee shop or write editorials for some sort of free publication that has radical views on dog castration. Wicker park isn't all bad, but I tend to want to lump the good stuff such as Piece and Debonair in with Bucktown because that neighborhood didn't produce a dogshit romantic thriller starring Josh Hartnett. What the fuck is a romantic thriller anyway?
Did you hear that Rusko is coming to the Congress theatre? Our Mexican cook told it to me in Spanish while i was smoking an unfiltered cigarette on my 15 minute break at the Vietnamese restaurant I work at. Rusko's early stuff was so raw and powerful when he was first starting out, yet his latest offering is a tad too commercial for my liking. He didn't start wearing skinny ties until after it was already popular. I may still go though because he puts on a great live show and I'm always down to go to the Congress, I just hope that it's a 21 and older show, the last thing I need is a bunch of high schoolers from Hinsdale coming in and overdosing on X to harsh my mellow man.
I'm being brutally unfair to these people, just because they prefer to wear hunting hats and Navy Flack jackets out on a Saturday and pay $300 a month in rent doesn't make them bad people. It's just the constant judgement of everything normal that put me into attack mode. There are a thousand good restaraunts and bars in Wicker Park, and I have some friends that live their too, but there is a stigma that keeps me away most days. These people are from all over and have very little in common with their neighbors to the east. Chip on the shoulder, kings of the underground music and fashion scene, love foreign films and think that bisexuals are cowards and need to make a choice. A night on the town isn't a pregame and a bar, it's a smoke out and a poetry slam.
This state is in so much debt, yet we have millions to spend on an Olympic ad campaign? What a fucking joke. Our president has more important things to do that fly to Europe to make an elaborate pitch. What about the homeless, social security? Doesn't anyone care about social issues anymore? No, you just want to WIN the rights to some fancy athletic competition? Ridiculous, what is this country's obsession with athletes anyway? Why don't we honor political activists and math teachers in the inner city? The biggest star in golf is a moral disease yet we root for his comeback?
You didn't want the Olympics man? Go fucking die somewhere. And while you're doing that I'm going to pull a Carmel and take the pieces of Westfield I mean Wicker Park that I want via a hostile Annexation. Piece you're mine!
No comments:
Post a Comment