1,001 Chicago Afternoons

It’s a music venue. Bars on upper and lower levels, food for those who want it. Dark wood, concert posters and great acoustics, the latter so you can hear the band

It wasn’t a band that filled Lincoln Hall on Monday, but witches and warlocks, practitioners of a Halloween-time black magic more powerful than hexes and newt-eyes.

The crowd was there to see the practitioners of the dark art of politics. » Read the rest of this entry «

Like ghosts they moved across the ‘L’ platform. Spectral figures all in white, from the women’s summer dresses and hats to the men’s perfect ivory slacks and button-ups.

It was a crowd of about 30 to 40, in matching outfits, walking across the northbound train platform, some carrying chairs and large brown baskets.

Of course I sprinted of the southbound train to ask. » Read the rest of this entry «

In the hot summer sun, among the women walking around wearing rainbows and the occasional completely waxed man wearing nothing but skin-tight boxer briefs and a smile, the old man wore a suit. » Read the rest of this entry «

Night. Red Line nausea. No cabs. Streetlight walk down Fullerton. Mist. Drunken college students.

A voice behind me in the dark. » Read the rest of this entry «

I stopped at a spot I’ll never go to again. » Read the rest of this entry «

Text message from Bret _____, 10:12 p.m. Thursday, May 15:

“So, long delayed birthday thing this Saturday? Not sure where yet, maybe _____? Open to suggestions.” » Read the rest of this entry «

A married couple on a date night bellied up to the bar a few blank spots from two Hawaiian-shirt-clad businessmen from Baaaahsten who kept talking about their kids and UMass.

A young fella still wearing his Indiana University stocking cap indoors kept guard over a bucket of Miller Lite bottles.

A white-haired couple in the corner got closer and closer as they cooed and dined on salted fatty comfort food.

I was waiting for a friend. » Read the rest of this entry «

“You can adjust speed, but you’ll see you can also adjust intensity,” she said, pressing one of the directional buttons on the small wireless controller.

The smooth, pinkish-purplish plastic contraption gripping my hand started to pulse in a way I could only assume would be pleasurable if I had the body part it was designed for.

“This is one of my favorites,” she said, trailing off in a giggle that seemed as manufactured as the sex toy wrapped around the space between my fingers. » Read the rest of this entry «

The CTA buses were doing surprisingly well for a snowstorm Sunday morning. » Read the rest of this entry «

Peace to the old man sipping drinks at the VFW bar.

And the bagpiper on the condo roof.

Peace to the newsman, chasing stories for cartoons.

Peace to the lady who jammed in Tunisia.

And peace to the one who makes really sexy ladies’ underthings. » Read the rest of this entry «