Yawn. Kinda tired. Tonight, after the coffee seminar, we all went to the Duke of Perth for a drink. I had a Bellhaven. Wow! It was really good. I wonder how expensive it is to buy it at a store so I can drink it at home.

It’s still really warm outside, almost hot. Hot darkness. That’s the weird thing about Chicago in the summer. It doesn’t often cool down at night. In California, you can wear a sweater at nighttime if you want too. Something about the city here, the asphalt and the concrete, and the climate. Holds in the heat. Makes things sticky. It’s sticky in this apartment tonight. Though I have my fan going. It helps quite a bit. But no under-the-covers sleeping.

Andy is closing at work tonight. I’ll see him tomorrow night. I’m listening to Jimmy Scott sing “Holding Back The Years.” Damn, it’s so good. I hear the words in a way I never did before. I have the next two days off. Will try to write. The David Byrne concert is on Sunday night.

Last night we watched “Alice and Martin” on video. This is the first movie about Paris that I’ve seen since I’ve been back. And I realized I was playing that old game with myself while I was watching it … “Hey, I know that place! I’ve been there for real! That Metro station is familiar! That’s really what it looks like! I wonder where that apartment is supposed to be.” I liked the movie. It was sometimes awkward to watch because of the characters’ behavior. Doing vulnerable things, difficult things. Juliette Binoche is SO SO good. The woman could read a menu out loud & draw a convincing character. Watching the movie made me a bit wistful, looking back at Paris. I liked it there and yet I didn’t suddenly want to move there. I was happy to be there and experience it. And then take that stuff back with me here.

Why Chicago? Why this city? Is it really unique or is it really like any other place? Does it matter where I am? I think it matters. But honestly I don’t know how different Chicago actually is from anywhere else. I just have an emotional attachment to this place. It’s something personal that no one else can understand except maybe through an epiphany. I ask myself how much longer I’ll probably live here, and where else I’d live … trying to imagine what my next city will be. Will I ever feel this way about somewhere else? Am I just refusing to grow up?

When I hear Dave Brubeck, Duke Ellington, Ultra-Lounge, David Bowie, I think about Chicago. Because Chicago is where I first heard them taking root in my ears. My apartment is small, and too hot, and I’m alone, and I’m not rich, and I don’t have a career, or a car, and I don’t really know where I’m going or even where I am, but tonight I’m going to sleep pretty well. Sort of, umm, existential.