There’s something odd about living in a city of three million (and not having it be New York). What’s odd is this: live theater. Chicago has pages of it. Maybe a third as much as New York’s, often at a quarter the price. Sometimes, astounding plays for ten dollars. In a way, it’s closer to London than New York: cheap, and although much of it is bad, there’s enough good to keep anyone frustrated all year long.
And what annoys me beyond reason, and makes me grieve for my city, and fume at the people in Bistrot Zinc and the Asian noodle shops, is:
No one goes.
Or not to the off-Loop ten-dollar stuff that I love. Even if it’s the rave in the Reader, the free weekly....
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