I received a MySpace message from L., telling me she’d seen “a cute guy with a nose piercing” at the Irving Park Y. He looked familiar, and then she realized it was EmoBoy. He was signing someone else’s kid out and on the phone trying to get directions to Blues Fest. And it was only about two weeks ago that I almost ran him over at Clark and Irving Park Road before bumping into him an hour later at the Pick Me Up Cafe.
Of course, when she mentioned the nose piercing, I made it a point to remind her I’d paid for that damn thing.
In a city filled with just under three million people, how is it that the ones I want to disappear won’t and the ones I want to stick around can’t wait to skedaddle?