AH. Chicago. I dug Chicago. Oh, don’t get me wrong. The performance sucked. But I expected nothing less.

No. I’m talking about the city. The place is a writer’s haven (except it’s just too damn cold there). DINERS everywhere. Cozy little diners with waitresses named Betty who warm up your coffee, give you the paper, and ask you things like “How’s this chilly mornin’ treatin’ ya?” SHIT, did I love those diners. AND the waitresses. The gum-smacking big-haired waitresses. They looked like they had just stepped out of some detective story.

I did a lot of thinking in Chicago. I flew in without a place to stay, barely any money, and a really bad feeling that the plane was going to crash in one of those weird shaped fields. Things got worse. The theater space was really different, so we had to reconfigure alot of elements in the show. I got lost looking for the hostel (which was not heated) and started my period that night. Oh yeah. And it was raining. Hardcore.

So I had the moment of “JESUS CHRIST, what next?” And then I started laughing. The people on the street must have thought I was crazy. I was freezing, soaked, loaded down with equiptment, lost, and had a very noticible stain on my pants. I didn’t know what else to do, so I fucking laughed my ass off.

Then shit got better. I found a cozy little diner. A huge spread of hashbrowns. Enjoyed about 100 cigarettes INSIDE (damn that new NY law). Then I talked to Betty. Betty gave me a paper and introduced me to Frank (I’m not making these names up). Frank bought me a coffee. Yeah. I dug Chicago. Couldn’t live there. Just too cold. But they all liked my shoes and wished me luck on opening night.

And you know what? I actually enjoy it when some people call me ‘sweetheart.’ Really. I do. It made my day. It got me through all three horrible nights of the show.

Back in NY, things are rocky. But I’m more determined than ever to not mope around for the next 4 months. I just don’t have the energy to be sad. And damn it, it’s almost sundress season. That’s right. Sundresses. It might be small or superficial. But it’s a start. And who knows, maybe wind will fill the dress around my knees when I walk. That might make it easier to get to the train. Small change. But if I can get myself to the train smiling, then maybe I can smile at something else (even if its accidental). Do you see my logic?

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