I try to figure out the
difference between
165th and 169th.
On one of these streets
there was a murder.
On the other,
nothing happened.
Talking to a wall,
I try to figure out the difference between 165th and 169th. On one of these streets there was a murder. On the other, nothing happened. For some reason, I’m dreaming about potato salad, which is ironic in that of all of the things that I’ve eaten in the past 28 hours, none of it has been potato salad. There’s been:
Without the will to swirl chocolate, you might as well fold up the tent and leave the tailgate. There is no joy in consistently losing. You can say – “hey, it’s just good to be part of the competition.” But that only lasts so long. Sooner or later, you need to win.
It doesn’t speak to me.
I’ve tried and I’ve tried and I’ve tried, but Chicago reminds me of a wet dreary day. And I’ve been here thousands of times on sunny days, frollicking in the waves, running with the throngs, getting bombed at outdoor cafes. |
I run radio stations and a streaming video network in Hammond, Ind., and write this blog.
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June 2022
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