Homoneurotica

Where am I?
Oh, yeah. Chicago.
Currently, Homoneurotica has THREE followers. You'll forgive me for not keeping
up-to-date.  Perhaps my marketing skills are lacking. Maybe my writing isn't up to snuff.
I'm no Joe Orton, though I acknowledge the inspiration.  I've been lax. Apologies.
Now, go get some more followers.  We deserve it.

Where am I?
Moved (back) to Chicago. My go-to. My fall back plan.
Chicago, historically, has been where I head when I don't know where I'm heading.
I flash back - frequently - to the night after graduation from college. 1980, the year.
Me, wide awake ALL NIGHT, terrified.  Wondering, what next?  Finally, a ray of light.
A beacon:  Chicago.  Specifically, Evanston.  My brother had gone to Northwestern,
and I really had no direction in mind. Seemed as good as any.  Evanston had a dance
studio.  I fancied myself a dancer.  Also, Second City.  I fancied myself an Improv comedian.
I was not.  But. There it was, a short Greyhound away.  And Greyhound - back then - had
all sorts of romantic/bohemian charm.  I bussed into Chicago on a wing and a prayer, and about
$150 in hand.  I took the el up to Evanston. I knew how to do that from previous trips.  I booked
a room at the historic Orrington Hotel.  Because I had stayed there once with family, for my brother's
graduation.  See, everything is based pretty much on sentimental connections.  There I was.
On my way. Bright lights, big city.  Scared shitless.

Next morning, I looked up roommate ads in the newspaper, because we didn't have internet then.
Found a place.  Found a roommate.  Walked there, met the guy, gave him money. The rest is history.

I am here again.  Floundering, but with a sense of direction.  I have skills.  Sometimes, I have sex.
I am a modestly successful masseur.  I have a nice apartment in a funky neighborhood. The future is
bright.  I am frequently lonely.

That's where I am.