Oooookay. This is basically the equivalent of me dipping my toe into the REALLY shallow end of the blogging pool. I’m not entirely sure I’m “back”, but there have been some recent comments that I feel need to be addressed.
THE MIDWEST DOES NOT SUCK.
There. I said it. Admittedly, I am from the third largest metropolis in the United States. I am not a resident of a “flyover state” nor do I live anywhere near farm land (beef, corn or otherwise). However, I am MIGHTY FUCKING DEFENSIVE of this great part of our country.
I’m sick of hearing people (mostly on the coasts) saying that the Midwest is shit and they hate it here. THEN FUCKING LEAVE. There are great things that happen here. Chicago is a nexus of constantly changing lives and I love that. We’re just as sophisticated and urbane and frankly, Manhattan is smelly as fuck and most of the people in California are out of their damn minds.
Anyway, with all that in mind, I felt the need to re-post of “My Soul Sings the Blues” from Valentine’s Day 2011. Cause I’m sick of ya’ll talkin shit about mah man.
**Authoress’ note: no need to leave bitchy comments; most of this is all in good fun. MOST of it.**
That title sounds pretty sad doesn’t it? I promise I don’t mean it that way. My soul belongs to Chicago and Chicago sings the blues better than anyone else. I am a fierce defender of my hometown and will champion it to anyone who will listen. In light of the recent Valentine’s Day holiday, who better to receive my love letter?
My sweet city of Broad Shoulders,
Your bright sun in the sweltering summer and blinding winter white stuns me. Your beauty is unrivaled in my mind. I have been to both edges of this country: to the ocean at South Beach and the mountains of Colorado. Your very nature always pulls me home.
I love you for your clanking, rickety El. For the terrifying screech as it comes around the corner towards the Randolph/Wabash stop. For its frequent inefficiency, for the heat on in the summertime and air conditioning in the winter. For your stubborn refusal to expand outward, to bring in commuters from the suburbs. Not you, you don’t need anyone else.
That you inspire a group of intelligent twenty somethings to debate not politics, not world events — but hot dogs.
While other cities are considered unfriendly or (the horror) TOO friendly, you’re just right. We’ll hold close the dirty little secret that while we’re friendly, we don’t trust strangers too much (saucy minx!). Are you a stranger to us? Who do we know who knows you? All newcomers are met with a skeptical eye.
I love you for creating a President. That is enough.
I love you for rewarding my recovery from surgery with a STANLEY CUP!!
Your sense of humor is unmatched. You make me, and so many others, smile. A New Yorker may have meant to insult you, but as the Second City you’ve been home to some of the funniest people on earth.
When you love, you love hard. My love is not a city for lightweights. You must prove your worth to my love. If you can’t make it through a winter here, we don’t want you anyway.
Your beauty is not lost on me during awful, gray, rainy spring days. I know that soon you will have a breeze off the lake. A breeze that erases all ills.
I love you more and more each day and while I may have dalliances with other cities, it is you that welcomes me home with the smell of chocolate.