“excuse me miss, can i check your bag-oh, cupcake brown’s huh, that’s a good book, i read it when it came out…EXCUSE ME SIR, i need to see your receipt, but that’s a great book…”
harold washington library is to me what bryant park was/is- the jumpoff to my trips to a city. the fact that this library is about reading as much as i can, and the staff noticing and interacting with me is further proof of purpose. bigups to all the participants of the book binding contest in tribute to the banned books-your work moved me to write a verbose and emotionally grammatical page in the guestbook. i started and finished this book during the 32 hours that i’ve been in the chi so far, bookended at football games-who knew. i’m leaving it behind in the spirit that it was given to me-with a stranger that i talked a bit with, and it’s really the kind of story that needs to be witnessed. who is cupcake brown? you should really find the fuck out. the title is the most apt double entendre i’ve encountered in a long while. i am currently questioning my ability to discern when anyone is under the influence of narcotics, as i clearly have no idea. i’m kind of impressed at how high the functioning levels have become, and a leetle bit scared, too.
“Friends are like buses,” I uncaringly replied as I took a hit off the joint, “if you miss one, sooner or later, another will come. The names of the routes change, but the destination don’t. It will always cost you something to ride-nobody rides for free. And, they’ll leave your ass if you don’t get with the schedule.” (262)