Chicago, Day 4

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We have arrived to the last full day in this Windy City. I couldn’t ask for a better way to end it. In a few hours we will break bread with friends, a proper pot luck with creative types, families and Billie on the turntable. My friend is making two different pots of chili. One for the carnivores and one for the veggie heads. I’ll eat both. Some of the folx coming through I haven’t seen in a couple years. I’m looking forward to seeing these gals. They are kind, accepting, and just damn good people. I only want to be around those that get my weirdness, those that are complicated and dynamic enough to embrace their own level of weird. The best kind of people to know.

Last night was another late one. We got to smartbar around 12:30, guest list. As soon as we walked in the atmosphere was like Godzilla came up from underground and brought the edges into full view. If you’ve never been to a true “techno” party you might freak out a bit. Or think the devil had a birthday. It’s easy to think that. Once you let go of the borders put in place for society you start to get it though. It’s a ritual, being there says something about who you are. DJ Nobu plays some hard shit, sprinkled with drawn out psychedelic tones that flip your wig if you’re not mindful. I got lost in the sea of people and overdone smoke machine antics. Only complaint I had, way too much smoke machine dude. But it’s a vibe for the night. Old fashion rave culture done abundantly. I dig it. I said to one of my friends, “this fits my mood almost perfectly”. I’m in a spot these days, it’ll pass but dancing to hard techno is exactly what I needed, to be a freak in a pool of freaks. Plus, the desires of others radiating towards me was intense. I was stalked by a couple people, met a few others. I’m a tall dude wearing black so at times I look like I’m a bouncer or part of the team putting on the show. It’s funny, but a few dance shimmies’ and you’re in the community. I got down like I always do. I saw one of the most beautiful people I’ve seen in a long time. He was younger, short blonde hair, hoop earrings, just a pretty person. We walked by one another and made sharp eye contact, quick but deep. I felt love in that fluttering moment, or lust, who knows, it felt good. There were a few others I watched a bit, a beautiful black queen with short hair. Eyes like diamonds, subtle style, sexy – a woman. We exchanged glances several times. But I’m off the market. A self imposed hiatus from outside energy in my personal space – closed for remodeling. Right now I’m gonna love me, and make love to that space. I know how I like it. Throughout life we are required if vigilant to recharge ourselves. Its imperative to gain control of your set, create a new narrative for your growing self.

We came back to the crib, sipped a brew, played some hip-hop then crashed. Before we went to club everyone came to the house I’m crashing at, we drank wine, talked shit, took turns spinning house and techno. It was classic times. We dipped for some dinner at a soul food place a few short blocks away. I had the shrimp and grits, and then traded a bit for some fried chicken, the grub was fire. Period.

Walking in the cold air really saved my ass for the night. Blood flow, movement in the cold is a cure for just about anything dragging you down from no sleep. I’ve been quite mild in the intake this weekend.

I’d like to just get all gushy right now about how much I love my friends. Brothers – Twenty years and counting. You can’t ask for anything better. Nothing changes but each growing their own way, beautiful, intelligent, creative, and hilarious. We each bring a little different vibe to the group – Too soft, too hard, too goofy, too emotional. We all grown up now, kids, marriages, mortgages, big boy jobs, broke as fuck hustles. Personalities thick in opinions, culture – always some new knowledge being brought out. Everyone shares and looks out for one another. No drama, no bullshit…cuttin loose, hanging out. Then we do it again when we do. No pressure.

Friends, real ones. I love them.

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