Chicago, now on P.F.S. Post with liner notes, is a random Andrew Lundwall (far left in the photo) masterpiece from the mid-to-late Aughts. The story of how the poem was composed is about a woozy morning, probably the morning of July 7, 2007 (the morning after this picture was taken), for Steve and I. It had been a very long, epic, as the saying goes, if also antic, night. Some of us kept our stomachs; others vomited. Steve and I stumbled around, doing whatever, woozily. Andrew, from his mattress set up in the corner of Steve's living room, was scribbling, and asked not to be disturbed. He was writing Chicago. After maybe ninety minutes, he handed me the draft and I transcribed it onto Stoning the Devil. The version of the city in the poem is a killer one, a monster one. Slight culture shock for Mr. L from the mellowness of Beloit. An easy and profitable match for Center City Philadelphia, also. As we all fell for the Lady in Black, as you see here. Worth noting that later that year, Andrew moved to Rockford, Illinois, with Melissa Lenee. I twice visited him there, with Steve, in 2008.
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