1) This was written when I was 22 or so, probably So & was published in New American Writing 22 which, was my first piece published in a *Big Literary Journal (& would be my self-imposed Last) which when coupled with the Fact that I had just decided to move to San Francisco for Graduate School (“Ah, Shit Bitch”) filled me with such Pleasure, perhaps a feeling of Elegance, not so much compelling me to feel like Sylvia Plath but rather moreso like the Wild (Shitcanned) Elegance of Anne Sexton, dreaming about all those Parties I would attend in ol’ San Francisco, all that Booze I would Consume & most importantly all that Pussy I’d Slip—and—Slide into to (“Ah, Shit Bitch”) & ultimately like Anne Sexton, all that Shame that would become such an integral part of my Character.
Since I was, for the most part living away from Home, from State to State to City starting at 12 ½ , I got used to booking it from any given City after roughly a Year to go on to the next One. Luckily, moving to San Francisco, had taught me that I no longer needed to keep moving but rather needed only to finally, and for good, get Home. It took me moving to San Francisco to fully appreciate what Home, or at least a Home like Chicago actually means & offers. I think moving to SF taught me that. At first I Chicago wanted nothing to do with me apparently. And for good reason I suppose since I did leave Chicago twice before without warning. But eventually, I coaxed Chicago into seeing me & eventually moving back in. I sat Chicago down & it went something like this:
"Chicago listen, I cannot even begin to explain to you, how wrong I was in everything. All my actions were not only wrong, but they were despicable. I was young, I was misguided, my priorities were all fucked. I didn't know how good I truly had it with you. See, you were all I ever knew & thought about & there were times that I thought I needed a bit of Space, you know? I needed to branch out & try other places. But eventually I realized, that all those Pretty Places, with their pretty [topological]faces on the Post Cards, just weren't you. They were ugly when you dug beneath the Surface, you know, they were all glitz & glam & sitting their awkwardly looking real-purty-like, but when you got them between the Sheets, they'd just lay there, lifeless & dull & it was then in my 28th Year I realized, all I had ever sought, is all I had ever known: You, Chicago. And I set myself to winning you back one way or another. See, all those pretty places, are just going to end up looking like Shit in the End, like we all end up looking like shit in the end & what matters is the Heart, what matters is how much we've shared together, how much we always laughed together & at the same time, how we could just sit in each other's presence in complete Silence for minutes, some times even Hours & there were those times in our silence, that I'd look at you & think "Yeah that's right, I got'choo. I got'choo Chicago. & that Chicago, is all that matters in the End. Chicago, I want to age with you & in the End, I want us to look like shit together, standing side-by-side. Chicago, I ain't leavin' you, ever, neverever again."
or some Shit like that
