#chris bower

A sculpture titled 'female Torso II (Bronze nude Interior sculptures)' by sculptor Chris Bower. In a medium of Bronze.

I have to be honest, have no choice but to be, really, you know. I didn't really follow the story as much as hear about it, but it was, I hear, a tragedy, and when life is lost, Jesus, it is tough, but what really hurts us, you know, is when we turn on each other, and don't stand together, even though we don't always agree, and we can argue all day about who started the fire, may it be virtual or literal, and in this case, very literal, but while some people blame the woman, a mother, and others blame the animal, a cow, others blame what easily could have been the dirty faced children scampering in the shadows, but instead of ripping each other apart, we should really just be blaming who is almost always at fault, and that's the Irish, because if they didn't leave their damn clutter everywhere...I digress. What's important is that we stay together on this and in time, we will all think it is fun to be Irish, and we will blame our fires on the whisky God made us drink.

Letter I wrote David Bowie in 1992.

When I was a little boy, maybe 5 or 6, I was watching 60 Minutes from my crib and I looked up at my father and asked, "I won't be like Andy Rooney when I am old, will I?" and my father said, "That's the same question Andy Rooney asked from his crib, when he was a little boy." And then I said, "But that wasn't really an answer, was it Father?" My father then said, "Son, I will instead use a little known proverb since the Socratic method has failed. A boy who stays in his crib too long will forever be a little boy, and little boys always think they are right, even when they are really old." Then I looked at my father, with my eyes wide and bright and said, "I often fall asleep right here in this crib" and then I made an exasperated face that then morphed into a self-satisfied face. I bring this up because I just watched the moving men take my boyhood crib out to the alley and I am watching this from my car, writing this from my car and I feel like I am a character in Affliction and also a little sleepy and grumpy and have a lot to complain about, and I am doing body math in my head while watching the crib slowly fill up with snow.

Little Boy Needs Ride named one of the top 5 Chicago fiction books of 2015 by New City.