Too Much Jelly!
On any given day in the City of Chicago, I can choose from among hundreds of live events—concerts, staged readings, poetry slams, storytelling nights, improv shows, sketch shows, dance performances, plays, musicals, performance art, stand up comedy, movies—it's kind of fucking ridiculous.
The stomach tightens and sinks.
The heart and lungs follow.
It’s a confounding reaction to a receipt of affection.
It’s familiar, and, therefore, oddly comforting.
But familiarity can be a curse.
A cursed reminder of what once went wrong when you were just trying to do things right this time.
This time it’ll be different, you say.
Why? You’re different, but what are you doing differently?