chicago
i wrote this on the bus: she tells me she loves someone else and most of the time, i believe her.

it's snowing outside. i'm playing a show tonight, the formalton fest in wicker park. my bossa nova no-wave blues, in a corner of a crowded sweaty apartment performance art piece, can you dig?

and then tuesday, i'm riding the wheels of steel across that big wide open to the california coast.

i'm vibrating i'm so free.

chicago cold and grey, the old lady on the L last night said to her old man "que feo, chicago." the winter is so desolate and beautiful but it forces people together to keep warm and high...is this why midwestern kids hang together like they do? it makes sense. the south beach looked like brighton beach in the 1950s. piles of ice on the beach, visible from a 7th storie penthouse filled with photographs of a dead sister and capitalism. it breaks my heart but then mary jane and the ramblin' travelin' keep me and the kids! the kids! the kids. youth culture will save everything. i have faith in it like my mexican gramma has faith in the virgin mary. the funny thing is, it's pretty much the same thing.

sal looked at me across the couch this morning and laughed with a glee so good and said "lookit, rafe is in chicago learning the blues." and i didn't say a goddamn thing. i've always known the blues, i'm a refugee from agrarian culture, it's just now i'm figuring out how to play them.

thanks for that, baby.

i miss my boys. i miss my girls (everyone knows where my weaknesses lie). but then i remember i'm doing for them just as much as i'm doing it for me. it's a good thing being free. i love you all. peace.