Chicago
David G. was on Wilson Avenue, walking behind a large woman in a thin winter coat. The pawnshop hadn’t shoveled their sidewalk, and there was only a narrow path in front of it, bordered by snow-covered ice. Two Mexican girls were coming from the other direction, and just as they reached the start of the path, the large woman shouted, “Out of the way, bitches. This is my country.”
January 14, 1988
Chicago
Last week on Montrose and Magnolia I noticed a flyer for a missing cat named Brutus, and this afternoon in a vacant lot I think I found him: big and black, with ragged ears. He was dead, and frozen solid.
I called the number on the flyer and told the woman who answered where she could find the body. “I hope I’m wrong, but I’m pretty sure it’s Brutus,” I said.
She asked if the dead cat had nappy ears and I said yes. What I didn’t say was that I think the body had been kicked up and down the street. It was scuffed, and a lot of the fur had been worn away. The woman sounded very distressed on the phone. The poster mentioned a $100 reward, but I didn’t bring it up, figuring it only applied if Brutus was returned alive.
January 17, 1988
Chicago
There’s a Wieboldt’s not far away so yesterday I ducked my head in. The store sells dress shirts for $6. They sell a line of denim jackets that have Love and Peace already written across the backs of them. One of the cashiers, a teenage boy, wore a Gucci sweatshirt and had a sketchy mustache. He was smoking, and when a customer stepped forward to pay, he laid the cigarette on the counter, with the lit end hanging over the edge. When it fell to the floor, he sighed and stepped on it.
Half the shelves in the store were empty, not because it’s a popular place but because no one restocked them. They’re exhausted over at Wieboldt’s. Like the ALDI grocery store further down Broadway, their motto is “Leave us alone. Let us smoke in peace, for God’s sake.” Goldblatt’s is even worse. All of the mannequins in their front windows are missing their fingers.
January 27, 1988
Chicago
At the underground Jackson L stop, I came upon a group of three rappers. The song they were performing was about AIDS, a message to all “fags, fairies, and dykes” that they are “history.” They will die and everyone will be better for it. One rapper said in an aside that he hoped there wasn’t anyone with that shit standing next to him. A big crowd had gathered to listen, and they loved it. Everyone laughed and applauded.
I received a letter from Susan Wheeler, who’s in New York now, temping at a company that makes dental rinses. For Christmas her mother gave her a beautifully wrapped empty box, three pairs of queen-size panty hose that are way too big for her, and $32.
January 28, 1988
Chicago
I called about a job writing for a young person’s cable show. The receptionist answered, saying, “Youff C’moonication.”
“Excuse me?”
It took me a while to realize he was saying “Youth Communications.”
I eventually got through to the guy in charge who told me I didn’t want the job. He said he’d just had two people walk out on him and I’d no doubt be the third. I said all right and hung up.
February 3, 1988
Chicago
I got a job at a place called Jay Roberts Antique Warehouse. They had a help-wanted ad for a wood stripper, so I went in and talked to the owner, who asked me some questions about furniture. I start next week on a trial basis for $6 an hour.
February 10, 1988
Chicago
I started my job at Jay Roberts and learned I’m replacing a guy who made $11 an hour. I was told this by Earl, who makes $15 an hour. I was hired to refinish furniture, but the first thing I did was shovel snow. Then I swept, moved dressers from place to place, and cleaned brass. While moving dressers I saw a throne made out of horseshoes.
Earl said that five refinishers have quit since December. “Don’t tell Jay I told you,” he said.
February 11, 1988
Chicago
At the end of the day Jay Roberts handed me a check and told me it just wasn’t working out. Earlier, at lunch, the furniture repairer, Lorenzo, asked me where I live. I told him, and he asked if there were a lot of faggots in Uptown. There were three other people in the room, and they all laughed. Lorenzo said that faggots destroy everything because they’re perverted and only look out for themselves. He said that they’re selfish and don’t devote themselves to family.
I asked if he had children and he said yes, why else would he work six days a week? Before I went to Popeyes I asked if anyone wanted anything, and Lorenzo told me to bring him a woman with big tits. He said he had one last week who almost tore his dick off. That’s how much family means to him.
I will never walk down that block again.
February 16, 1988
Chicago
Reasons to live:
1. Christmas
2. The family beach trip
3. Writing a published book
4. Seeing my name in a magazine
5. Watching C. grow bald
6. Ronnie Ruedrich
7. Seeing Amy on TV
8. Other people’s books
9. Outliving my enemies
10. Being interviewed by Terry Gross on Fresh Air
April 5, 1988
Chicago
At the IHOP I sat behind a pregnant woman in her mid-twenties and her companion, who was in her seventies and walked with a cane. The pregnant woman is expecting her baby on July 4 and said she’s hoping Mike can get his shit together before then. He’s the baby’s father and also an actor. Right now he’s playing the part of someone named John Deering. “Mike doesn’t act, he becomes,” the pregnant woman said. She told her friend that normally that’s fine, but when he becomes John Deering he freaks out that he’s got a baby on the way. A few weeks ago he moved out of their apartment. She goes over to his new place and uses the computer but only when he’s at rehearsal.
The older woman lit a cigarette and said that in her opinion, Mike was being irresponsible.
The pregnant woman sighed. “I’m just hoping he gets his act together, maybe after the play is finished.”
Yesterday on the radio I heard a young woman address a few of the hardships she’s faced since her husband walked out on her and her two young children. Because he disappeared, she’s still married and thus ineligible for welfare in the state of Virginia. She’s college educated, but the children are young, and she can’t leave them alone. When she tries to get aid, the people at Social Services tell her that she’s pretty, which means what, exactly? That she could become a prostitute, or find a wealthy boyfriend? She said that her five-year-old got sick, and that when he sat on his potty seat, his intestines came out.
I dropped my screwdriver when I heard that.
April 29, 1988