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About Chicago

Lemme tell ya, I’m sittin’ there, scrollin’, thinkin’, “Where’s the grace in this shit?” Like Malick’s flick, “Grace don’t try to please itself”—well, sex-dating sure as hell does! Everybody’s flexin’, lyin’—dude says he’s 6’2”, shows up 5’8” with a beer gut. Motherfucker, I’m pissed! Wasted my damn time. But then—surprise, motherfucker!—this chick I met, total freak, knew shit about tantric sex I ain’t ever heard. Blew my mind, had me yellin’, “What the FUCK?!” Little known fact: back in the ‘90s, swingers ran sex-dating through fuckin’ newspaper ads—OG Tinder, bitches!

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Then we got the Illinois River runnin’ like a ribbon of silver. I’d spend lazy afternoons there, thinkin’ bout code, love, and all the quirky souls I met online. Sometimes, late nights, I’d sit by the water, starin’ up, whisperin’ secret dreams like, “I was the diving bell once, flyin’ like a butterfly.” I know, sounds wild, but that’s how the heart talks here.

Tahlequah Fire crews respond to structure fire southeast of city