In IL it meant:
Bonfires and nights covered in mud.
Fireflies and lightning bugs in jars.
White Sox games and hot dogs and beer.. (oh how I miss the real baseball games)
Accents.
Going to the lake and watching spiders weave webs.
Dinners with tons of family.
Grilling outside.
Ghost stories.
Cheap beer cans all over the yard.
Bowling and then coffee and saganake.
Going to department stores because they were open 24 hrs.
White castle sliders after a long night of drinking.
Sex out in the long grass with the hot wind blowing.
shooting at the range.
Tents and giggling.
Stealing road signs.
Days at Navy Pier and the Sears Tower (I miss a real city)
Mosquito bites.
Trying to cover the scent of bug spray up.
The sound of a bug zapper killing a huge one.
The glow of a bug zapper.
Water wings.
Calling the filled in coal mine “a beach.”
Dairy Queen.
Secret rondevous.
Dellwood park rituals.
Becoming blood brothers with someone.
Keggers.
In areas where my friends would have family, they were so in the middle of nowhere that there’d be nothing there but a Walmart and tons and tons of condoms for sale. It’s those things that make me dread going back to IL.. even though where I grew up may have been suburbia, it wasn’t completely horrible. It’s kind of like here except they get bad weather back home and a few other things.
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In San Diego, the weather is nearly perfect year round. Not too hot, nor too cold generally. It’s like Hawaii but more stateside. It’s relaxed there but not as much hustle bustle unless you go downtown to the Gaslamp district.
Summertime and concerts..
smoothies (heh)
the most divine fresh picked berries.
freshly cut grass.
dandilion sunbursts and wishes galore.
the sight of a some hot toned boys & girls with a bit of sweat on their brows and tight tummies…
surfer boys.
skater rats.
taking pictures with a telephoto lens.
the most melt in your mouth tasting sushi.
midday cocktails.
walks on the beach.
dancing with the warm wind around you.
fear of santa anas.
praying for rain so there won’t be fires…
then dreading driving/walking/waiting around in it, but still splashing in puddles with long yellow rubber coats and gloshes.
and sometimes the rain is hot enough.. and you can just dance… and the clothes come off because its hot outside too and its perfect and should be filmed and you should be in it.. and you and you and you and you…
Going to the Children’s Pool and looking at the seals that used to be there.
Fireworks over the bay.
Coy fish in Balboa Park right in front of the free Botanical Garden.
Nights out in LA looking for that perfect club no ones heard about.
Tagging random places and photographing the not so nice neighborhoods.
Candelight and sidewalk chalk.
Camera tossing.
Bike riding.
Horror movies and popcorn.
Complaining about the really bad foreign food you ate…
then raving about it an hour later.
The lights that never go down.. in the city where I wouldn’t want to sleep anywhere but in his arms if only, if only I were there…
I am an Enigma 