There was a time, not too long ago, when I could have posted literally thousands of pictures of Chicago. It was that wonderful time before that God Damned hard drive was dropped. Shit. I’m still morning it. Now all I have left are a few snap shots.
So it goes.
Gone are the thousands of pictures of the best city the world has to offer. Yeah, I know, I might be boasting here, but there is a reason we’re called “The Windy City,” mainly it’s because LA just sucks compared to us & New York just doesn’t have the alleys to stay as clean as Chicago.
Yes, I have a chip on my shoulder, but for good reason. I do live in the greatest city on earth. It’s the Third Coast, the Windy City, & it has spawned a new breed of American. We are more polite than New York, more grounded than LA, &, as a people, far less refined than Boston. It’s also the most beautiful city in America, we have alleys, our garbage doesn’t collect on the streets, the rats stay in the shadows–or in office.
But we do have our problems, an epidemic of crime & violence that has lasted so long, the Chicago Police Department exchanged Michael for Jude as it’s acting patron saint–which, if nothing else, stands as a testament of Chicago’s good humor. The city is run by the Irish Mafia, South Side shootings stopped being news three generations ago. The dead regularly vote, and yet the people take the rampant corruption with a good humored shrug. That’s how our political machine has always worked, and for some unknown reason, America elected one of us to the highest office in the land.
Now it could be that I grew up here, but I can’t help but judge other cities by their versions of Division & Michigan, & they’ve always fallen short. The skylines aren’t as beautiful, & the people, well, their not from Chicago. The people on the East Coast & the West Coast both have their extremes, by the time they get to the Third Coast the unnecessary eccentricities have washed away.
So here you go, this is all I have left of Chicago, or at least the pictures, since that one terrible accident that cost me everything I had shoot since I was 15, most of which, like me, came straight out of Chicago.