Tuesday, April 13, 2010
Maypole roughly parallels Lake Street, and I first knew of the street after Frankie Machine went running from the cops at the end of Nelson Algren's The Man with The Golden Arm. The hipster shit isn't this far west yet, though within a few blocks there's the newer housing built around United Center. But there's still a wedge of squalor right off of Ashland Avenue. Poverty is rough on the eyes, but it is still more realistic than the bullshit real estate projects that will soon enough force the people who live here far away.
I'm posting these here just as an ass-backwards way of having an easier way of printing them out. And, again, for any of you thinking, hey, why doesn't Wayne sue Metra?, well, it was MY fault I fell. Besides, their lawyers would just say I was doped up on bipolar meds or some other bullshit. And it was indeed my fault, I'm used to my body walking exactly where my brain tells it not to.
Anyhow. More shots of the Lake Street el later.
I'm posting these just to have them in the ubernets. Always helps in case the secret government erases my life. The photos are, of course, the result of my fall onto the railroad tracks. For anyone suggesting I might sue, well, no. Because it was my own damn fault.