From this thread, at Chicagoboyz.net. Lexington Green speaks thusly –

“Doesn’t it always boil down to politics, one way or another?”

Nancy! NO! No, no, no!

Love, books, friendship, beauty, art, happiness, music, literature, poetry, punk rock, carousing, brawls, sports, poetry, seduction, making out on the couch, copulation, marriage, children, grandchildren, gardening, exploring, building, discovering, inventing, making, hunting, spelunking, swimming, fishing, nature, art, birthday cake, loyalty, magnanimity, kindness, God, faith, revelation, sacraments, woodworking, drinking scotch, drinking a Manhattan cocktail, seeing a friendly face after a long time, forgiveness and a handshake, finding someone who loves the same things you do, finding new friends, finding the best book you ever read, kissing the girl you really love, seeing the best band ever saw and dancing and getting sweaty, finding out something that makes many things click into place, winning, triumphing, surviving, prevailing, being there for the sick, being there for the dying, dogs, horses, bracing cold days, brilliant moonlight, spring breeze and soft clue skies and a barracuda jacket, blazing suns and squishy asphalt underneath your feet, the most badass car you ever drove, being out on the highway at the crack of dawn and home still 18 hours away and your favorite song comes no the radio, having the tool you need when you need it, figuring out how to fix something yourself, memories, nostalgia, recollection, a picture of your elementary school classmates, your high school yearbook, finding out that someone grew up and turned out all right, seeing your sister marry a terrific man, coming home after two weeks of hard work and having your 2 and 4 year old leap into your arms and kiss you, talking to someone who actually understands you, finding out that the person you were not sure of loves the book you love so he is OK, hearing I Can’t Get No Satisfaction for the first time, hearing Mahler’s 1st for the first time, hearing Rockaway Beach for the first time, walking across the room and talking to the girl despite the concealed fear, getting on the bike and getting out of the house and staying out until you are really tired, finishing the race when you thought you never would, walking into the church on a midday afternoon and the faint smell of incense and candles, and you and a few old ladies and God are the only people there, reading the memoir and feeling it and seeing it and hearing it as if you were there, getting on stage and counting off the song and it is blaring and the girls down front are dancing and you are kicking ass, getting Mom on the phone, getting old mannish emails from Dad, signing up the big client, filing the big lawsuit, winning the big motion, finishing the book and sending it to the publisher, the Mod polka dot shirt, the paisley tie, the Pop Art shift dress, the chukka boots, the brown wingtips, the woman’s earrings and her hair up and the smell of her perfume, hearing Wouldn’t it be Nice in the car when the world is cratering and getting choked up, picking up the six year old, and carrying him upstairs kicking and screaming for a bath, befriending a man you know is a hero, the saints and angels and the holy souls in purgatory and the Blessed Virgin Mary, the rosary, the priest saying I absolve you, standing on Lexington Green where the minutemen stood and where the Redcoats filed onto the green just over there and hearing the muskets fire and the screams and and the blood and the second volley like a single roar and the bayonets and seeing it all like it is all happening agains and will always happen and freedom is never free and it is a gift we don’t deserve and swearing without words to yourself and the world that we will never give up.

That last one is political. But you get the idea.

Nancy, never accept the lie that the personal is political.

The personal is INFINITELY more important than. Politics is the way we clear a space so we can LIVE.

We fight the political struggle so we can have, in the immortal words of Roy Batty, “more life, fucker!”

We know that life is worth living and we want the state and its cement cells and boots and handcuffs and clubs and rubber-coated caterpillar treads to get the fuck out of our way.

OK?

Let us all now go forward together!