August 07, 2007

I WAS A LOVER BEFORE THIS WAR

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I didn't mention the final highlight (sic) of Lollapalooza! It was a doozey. Four songs into Pearl Jam's set, there was a drum solo. The drum solo intersected with the fireworks from the Bears game at Soldier Fld. We were like a mile away from that action, watching it all go down, sated and sweaty from TV On The Radio (miracle cure, Tunde's wiley hand wildly wiping the air, "I meant every / word"--amen, baby.) and everyone turned and looked at each other like "Is this really happening?!" It may not sound like a big deal, but it was like being face fucked with Old Glory: Tens of thousands braying along to "Jeremy", fireworks, sunburnt ppl barfing 9 hours worth of Miller Light onto the side of a muddy port-o-let.

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I biked home alone, slow, up Fulton.
Fulton, my heart is there.

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Fulton market is what remains of Carl Sandburg's Chicago, in my mind, at least.

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Ruddy brick bldgs, streets dead at 6, stinking hard of meat and heavy industry in the August heat.

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The city still, ever, the "tall bold slugger set vivid against the little soft cities."

Posted by Jessica at August 7, 2007 02:11 PM | TrackBack