The following can also be found in the book Chicago Stories 1997. Click here to learn more, and to download a free electronic copy.

(Lounge Ax, March 29, 1998)

We are trading Steve Albini stories.

This is a popular pastime in Chicago.

"I shared a table with Smashing Pumpkins at a Morphine show at the Double Door last year. They drank a lot of Grolsch. They were cool but quiet."

"Liz Phair used to eat at this restaurant I waitressed at all the time. She'd come in and make out with her boyfriend. She was an asshole."

"I fucked Nash Kato in 1994 in the bathtub at some party in Uptown. He was a bad fuck. Wouldn't take off his medallion."

So we are exchanging Steve Albini stories, Thax and I. I name him because this is a story of name-dropping.

Steve Albini is djing tonight
and we're surrounded
by the slackerazzi
and Thax and I
are exchanging Steve Albini stories
watching the short-haired short-statured blue tee-shirted man
spin the rockabilly in the booth
directly in front of me.

"I had a crush on him in 1983," Thax says. "And then I did an album with him a couple of years later."

This shocks me. Thax has single-handedly outreferenced almost everyone in the room.

"But now I can't talk to him because it's like running into a guy you had a crush on in high school. Your chest tightens and your heart goes pitter-patter and your throat closes up. You know."

I know.

I just told her tonight that I think I'm falling in love with her. She's told me the same back. And then it got really quiet.

I watch the cardigan boys. I watch the Kitty girls. I think about how they should all know me. I think about how they should all be whispering to each other when I walk in the room, "Dude, fuckin' Jason Pettus showed up."

I have a good Steve Albini story. I met him the very first night I moved to Chicago. It was a party in Logan Square and he was in the kitchen and I didn't know who he was and I was all excited about being a new citizen to the Windy City and I introduced myself and we talked small talk for about a half-hour and he gave me a beer, Steve Albini gave me a beer.

She asks, "Who's Steve Albini?" That's why I love her.

The slackers give my laptop strange looks. They give my tie strange looks. They are confused. They don't know if I'm some sort of yuppie weirdo or Important Guy they're supposed to recognize.

I like this.

Steve Albini comes up a lot in Chicago conversations, always with some distressful story from some body in the crowd about what an asshole he is. And I don't know what ever to say to this. So I say the only thing I can say: "Well, Steve Albini was nice to me."

She laughs. I wonder what's going to happen. I wonder when I'm going to be famous. I wonder when slacker kids will flock anytime my name is in the Reader.

"Yeah, Jason Pettus used to go into this bar all the time I hung out at. He was nice, but he was always bumming beer off me. But he was alright. Yeah, he was alright."