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Friday, Yes, and yes, and yet yes again.
It sounds like I don't have a life abroad, doesn't it? Gee, wonder if that surprises anyone. But being downtown, seeing the buildings arching over me, the blue horizon of the lake off in the distance, feeling the pulse of this huge mass of people all around me -- I need this, I really do. I'm a big city girl -- I need regular infusions of hustle or I get twitchy as all hell. And today was the purest smack, the smoothest high -- it was well and truly fucking glorious.
What better impetus to write, eh? I'm such a slut for my art. . . |
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Carroll | Erotic Science Fiction
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My
feet feel like they've been attacked with a meat tenderizer, but I don't
care. I spent a glorious early spring day wandering around downtown Chicago,
and I feel fucking fantastic. Stopped off at a deli for lunch, wandered
through numerous bookstores, patted the lions at the Art Institute, bopped
through Grant Park, did Marshall Fields, hit the Dirksen Building for
a passport form for the sister, talked to pretty much everybody who would
listen to me, people-watched until my heart was full, and had a great
time.
Want
to know my dream, my very most favorite fantasy? It's that I come into
a lot of money -- via the lotto, selling a script, writing a bestseller,
whatever -- which gives me the ability to buy a highrise condo downtown.
Lakeside view, cityside view, doesn't matter (although considering my
proclivities, a cityside view would probably be better), as long as I
was living in the heart of the monster. And at night, I could go out on
my balcony and hear its murmur, look down at the lights flowing along
its neon veins, and feel complete.