Incident Near the Old Stearns Quarry

Not much to say here. On FB, you can see my Stearns Quarry album, its now a park, but you can see the high rock walls of what had been one of the stranger things in this city. A quarry surrounded by three-flats and bungalows. Well, on my way there to meet Mike Martinez, I walked up Archer towards Halsted and took photos. Passed the noodle place, then the massage place. Turned the corner towards the currency exchange and about crapped myself when I pretty much walked right into that plastic spider. Yes, I was laughing later, but one day I will tell you all about my dream/nightmare I had when I was 5, about the upside down, milk-white giant spider and how I was saved by the Mr. Salty mascot.

Fullerton Beach

A week or so I rambled a bit on how hard it is to hang around the Loop at night, that was the night Twilight Tales was at the Fullerton Beach bistro, and instead of the Red Line, Mike and I took the Clark Street bus back downtown. I'm amazed at how well these photos came out, I took just these three, and the only photo I took in the Loop was of the Chicago Theater, where I then went underground to grab the Red Line there. It is so easy to take for granted that I live so close to a lake.

City After Dark

Should have saved more early evening shots that I took in the 90s, but what's done is done. The bottom two from Google Images, the last a shot of Lake Michigan. Its damn cold now, yesterday night dropped to 39 degrees. So tonight's walk home and various waits on trains/buses from the readings had me still despising this crazy summer, as it is barely in the 50s now. A week ago the readings were in a different location, closer to the lake, but the weather was in the 80s, and we will see that again by Wednesday. But last week the reading was on the lakefront, and so buses were the easiest way southward was by the No. 22 Clark Street bus, and I rode down with Not From Michigan Mike most of the way, then finished the ride to the Loop. I actually had time to catch the Red Line, at first I expected to be taking a cab from Midway. I kinda miss the days when I could screw along more in the Loop on a warm night. The Orange Line opened in 1993, so for years the route was No. 62 Archer to catch the No. 53B Pulaski, which would get me within a few blocks of my house until about 1 AM. Not that there was much to do in recent years, the days of used book stores and arcades open all night, the Mammy's Restaurant that served breakfast all night that was next to the Trailways station, even the theaters are gone. And, yea, it was a cheap thrill to be playing some pinball game and looking down at street level for a half hour or so. Granted, taking the bus to Pulaski wouldn't help much now, but even still, the routes are long shortened. Before I moved in 99, the last Pulaski bus from the Orange Line was at maybe 11:15. So I'd have to get gone from the Loop by 10:30 tops. There's a certain coolness to the desolation that gradually descends, not like how everyone scatters at once during the evening rush hour. Kids will hang out in front of the Art Institute dorms, smoking, then going back in, another group popping out. I'm just, well, no, last week I was feeling nostalgic about the loss of the transportation routes because it just so much fun taking a bus to the Loop instead of going almost immediately underground as soon as I leave the readings. The subway swings back above ground at Chinatown, so the Loop is missed completely (unless of course I was on the Orange or Brown lines). There likely won't be a warm night like last week (I'm talking for coming home from a reading) until next April.

Full Moon Red Line & Harry

I'm still creeped out as I type this, but in an eerie, calm kinda way. I went up north to hear Not From Michigan Mike read at Twilight Tales tonight and got a lead on some other job involving printing, so that's cool. Then I bought a bag of fries at the McDonalds on Lincoln and Fullerton, thinking the girl in front of me had a Godzilla foot. Turns out her sneakers were the same color as the tiles. Then the older guy who takes my order has a look of sheer and utter terror on his face. Maybe it was because I was wearing a Cleveland Indians shirt I bought at Unique Thrift for $2.00 and is now my favorite shirt.

OK. This is still so weird. I'm admiring the full, yellow moon rising above DePaul University, eating my fries, looking at a girl with long black hair waiting with her bike on the northbound platform, me thinking, man, I am twice her age. I'm on the train then, reading BUTTON, BUTTON, a collection of short stories by Richard Matheson. I hear a guy behind me calling the CTA about how late the 87th bus goes to Cicero. I turn to tell him, because of course, I'm going the same route. But the guy looks just like Harry Fassl. Without the voice. Skull, head, smile. I knew the guy wanted to talk, even when we got on the bus eight miles to the south. I looked at him, thinking, Jesus, he has shoes like Harry, and Harry wore big shoes. As we walked past the Dominicks to points west, he finally turned to thank me again. I really think he was wondering why I was all gibbledy-gibbledy. I told him no problem, standing there under this full yellow moon in a deserted parking lot, thinking of all the times during the summer where I might have seen Harry & Diana...The Red Lion, their house at 1111 Scoville, having burgers at Goldy's before watching crappy movies about giant spiders. This guy of course walked faster than me, being tall and all, and I followed his path, and where I cut through the church parking lot to get home about a half-mile from the bus stop, I could see him several blocks ahead, like a giant tree moving in the shadows between the streetlights. And you know what? Harry would have loved hearing how creeped out I was.