BATSHIT CRAZY

She never identified with them, the others, the ones she met. Awkward, in her way and highly introspective, she noticed the things that most others often did not notice. Things like the fine hair on the spider and the veins of a fallen leaf. Indeed, in such a vast world, there were others, but she had not met them yet. She identified, as just a girl on her social profile. Having not yet established a firm understanding of who she is but knowing that the setting in her urban community was changing, it excited her soul and she began an exploration. Unpacking her baggage and classifying it into categories and in a sequence of time. It served to help in a process that was thrust into her face as she navigated the urban streets as, she called herself, a gigger. The life of unexpected earnings and radical experiences in a setting that exposes ghosts of a past that is embodied in painful transformations from decades past. Times when the streets known as State Street, Rush Street, Division Street were composed of the degenerate decadence of an era now looked upon as despicable. Cocaine, Booze and Underaged sex in old haunts like Jays, Adolph’s, Le Coco Vin, Faces, The Hangge-Uppe. Decadence in an era of the Playboy club and Oak Street contours of the nightlife soulless lost children.