I love Chicago. It’s like the Emerald City; glittering with civilisation, bristling with architecture and culture, rising out of the soup of the Illinois flatlands like a jewel. Real trains, real everything. It’s my favorite American city, I think. And I love to be here with my favorite person.
We came up just for the night to see Patti Smith, and it was excellent. The weather, the city, the river, the buildings, the show, all sparkling.
I love the peek of the Gehry through the trees, below, looking south to Millenium Park.
Bill and I have each seen Patti Smith a few times, at least once together (it’s hard to remember some of the details of life, there’s been so much of it, you know) and whatever the specifics, what we did know for sure was that this was the best of them all. Patti’s voice is glorious, she’s exactly everything she ever was, but all of it at once now.
It’s the great thing about piling on the years, ideally the person just gets deeper and more interesting.
She’s rough-edged, you know, spitting on the stage (and likely the people next to it) but also sweet and tender; she is as likely to make you a sandwich and remind you to stay hydrated and be kind to each other as she is to pee in your flowerbed.
Anyway. Beautiful show, beautiful night, beautiful city.
I miss Bill already, well, I always do. He and The Three are always in my heart and mind, whatever mountaintop, desert, or far-flung land I’m standing in.
Speaking of the Three, here is a photo of Bri (center) in her spiff Navy uniform.