My Transistor Radio That I Bought At That Place Behind Quimby's

OK, here's how it went down. Saturday night in May, I'm meeting Rick Therrio in front of Quimby's and then we are going to see The Polkaholics. I get to Quimby's ahead of Rick, tell the girl inside that if some guy comes in describing me (easy enough, bat ears, cyclops) to tell him I'm coming back. I was going to take a few photos, as I did with the Rapid Transit Cycle Shop mural, then found this fantastical basement shop that might have been a dream only I still have this transistor radio that I bought for twelve dollars and it still works.
The photo of Rick was taken by Mark Kolodny and modified by Rick his ownself.

Finally, The Polkaholics!

So Rick and I met up in Wicker Park, had a meal at a place called Pint. I was quite elated, not just because I hadn't seen Rick since, well, since Harry's memorial, but because I got my hands on an Omegas Plus light blue transistor radio for ten dollars. I plan on walking with it everywhere and giving a big retro eff uuu to everyone with their cell phones and texting. Of course, until I find a 7 volt battery, I'll just have to make up the music. This specific intersection is cool, Damen, Milwaukee, and North. About two miles east of where I grew up, Humboldt Park. We then took a cab to Quenchers, at Western and Fullerton. I had known of The Polkaholics for years--in fact, they mentioned having formed in 1998--and I used to find small saddle-stitched copies of Polka-Zine up north. The band had to start late because of the playoff game with the Bulls and Celtics. Got me a t-shirt and afree CD, plus one for Rick. Free because the cardboard was stuck together, but the songs were pretty much what we heard. "The Beer Barrel Polka." My favorite of all time, "Who Stole The Kishka?" (I had to explain to Rick that it was Stashu who stole the kishka, even though its not explicit to the song). Then, inexplicably, they sang "All Right Now" by a 70s band named Free. How nuts is that? I know! Other songs: "Hallelujah, I'm A Drunk," "Old Style Polka," "Beer, Broads, and Brats." I had to look them up, and the CD still smells like Brylcreem or Wildroot. Good thing those guy don't run Magnum Sharpies through their hair. I got the Western bus to the Orange Line (near that vinegar factory) and watched one train go by. It was neat standing all alone at 12:30, I did the old walk down the up escalator for a bit. Got one of the last cabs from Midway, it was already in lockdown mode. Never cut it that close before. Got home around 1:15 AM and that's the end of that tale.

Rick Therrio and North Avenue

On the way to the Polkaholics, I had Rick use my disposable camera to take a photo of me in front of this odd mural on North Avenue. I guess I didn't realize exactly how tall the mural was, what with my having no depth perception and all. Then I posed so that I'd have that pointed tower building--that's what I call it--at the intersections of Damen, Milwaukee, and North. Rick pulled off a great shot. I might crop it to get the car out of the picture, but I don't know. Seems OK. Then today Rick emailed me this piece of art he'd been working on, Jonny Algiers as painted by Rick Therrio.

Eye & Ear Infirmary

Creepy, huh? Just got in from watching The Polkaholics up north with my friend Rick Therrio. Yes, that Rick Therrio. Photos of the band forthcoming, they were indeed fantastic. I'd known about them for years but have never seen them. No accordions. Just straight up polkas with a drummer and two guys on electric guitars. I should have posted a few photos of the Casimer Pulaski Day Parade. Maybe tomorrow. This old infirmary is was about a mile further west from where I was earlier, it was demolished in 2007.

The Suicide Window

One day I'll write a story called "The Suicide Window." Before Castle Frankenstein was built next door, I could see from my sleeping room to the far end of the block and the apartment buildings on 87th Street. Not quite like REAR WINDOW, more blotches of white behind trees and my neighbors' garages. But one building always had a light on in one window, and it never went off until well after dawn. It might have been a hallway security light, being on the top floor, but it spooked the hell out of me. Before I started my bipolar meds, sleep was non-existent. I would sit and stare at the square of yellow while the 2006 Winter Olympics hummed quietly in the other room. I saw a painting online that made me think of my story, which basically is one where the only people who can see the light in the window are those that commit suicide, and within two pages, I saw the quality of the paintings shown (NOT by the same artists) nosedive. The Nixon one baffles me. I found quite a few robot paintings, and I might post a few at a later date. To end this time, here I am as painted by Rick Therrio, whose link can be found to the left. I actually had a shirt with the pattern Rick painted--he sketched it as I was reading at the Red Lion back around 1996--one of those items of clothing I never wanted to part with. Things happen that involve bleach, sadly....Wayne