SOUTH BELOIT SOCIAL CLUB

This is my new pal, Buster.  I met him in the alley by my house.

He has big feet.

And a winning smile.

This, my friends, is Buster's nose.

Thank God for cats.

SCENES FROM SOUTH BELOIT

So last Friday, I lost the place I was sleeping and had to find something else.  In desperation, I ended up taking a tiny apartment in the town of South Beloit, Illinois, just across Turtle Creek from Wisconsin.  It's time's like these that make a man wonder "How?", "Why?"

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MYSTERIOUS MILWAUKEE

So, I'm just going day by day. A few weeks back I was happy to find that the 2010 Milwaukee Zine Fest was coming up soon, so I immediately signed on. Milwaukee is only about an hour from where I sleep, and I've always had a curiosity about it. Even though I grew up in Chicago (90 miles from Milwaukee) I've only been there 3 or 4 times ever. And it remains kind of a mystery to me. So I thought, zines, Milwaukee... let's go.

The Fest was held in the Falcon's Nest club in the Riverwest neighborhood (The club is home to the fourth oldest bowling alley in America!). Walking inside I was reminded of why I love the Midwest so much. Down to earth, somewhat lost in time, wood paneling. I set up and the show began.

Falcon's Club mailbox.

World War 3 Illustrated table et al.

The Spit and a Half corner.

I thought this was amusing.

Denver homie Kelly Shortandqueer was there sporting his mind-blowing Justin Bieber tee.

On the way home I tried to take a picture of the World's Largest Can of Chili from the highway.  That yellowish blotch in the left-center is it.  Maybe next time I'll get a better pic.

Anyhow, the Fest was a blast.  Everybody was so nice.  It almost made me wanna move to Milwaukee!

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THIS IS WHERE I LIVE NOW

So, after Florida, I headed north. I ran out of money and gumption in rural North Central Illinois. This is where I live now.

This is the front yard. I know what you're thinking-- "Oh, it's nice!"

This is my "office", where I pull off to the side of the road to make phone calls, the closest place to where I sleep that I have cell reception.

This is the truck stop.

This is the library, where I check emails, update this blog and otherwise kill time.

This is the WalMart, where I wander at night in search of people I can relate to. One time I talked to a guy about the Cubs.

WOOLLY BEAR

I was walking to the car the other day when I noticed a nice fat Woolly Bear caterpillar on the driveway behind the rear right wheel.  I watched it for a bit and managed to take a few photos.

The Woolly Bear is the larva of the Isabella Tiger Moth (Pyrrharctia isabella), whose eggs hatch in the fall and live out the winter in caterpillar form.  It pupates in the spring and spends the summer as a flying adult.

Legend has it, of course, that the coloring on the Woolly Bear can predict the severity of the coming winter. If the reddish band is large, the winter will be mild; if the black areas are more predominant, the winter will be harsh. This is a fact.

I was worried I'd back over the little bugger, so I picked him up on a piece of paper.  He rolled into a ball and played dead.  I put him off to the side, in some leaves, and when I came back from my errands, he was gone.

POOL RESCUE SQUAD

One of my favorite things to do when I was living in Florida was to head out to the Cee-ment Pond, with the pool skimmer and the dogs, and rescue little creatures that had fallen in the water.  Mostly I snagged various types of wasps and bees, from tiny little metallic green things to big old bumblebees and hornets.  And I caught a lot of grasshoppers too.  But occasionally I'd pick up something more unusual, like the time I pulled out a wee black snake, or these amazing beetles:

I've never seen anything like this guy before.  (See below for scale.)

I picked this next fella up the same day.  He held on tight to the skimmer's edge while he dried out, and then suddenly took flight, buzzing up to the top of a very tall tree.

I lived in Florida for a month and then went on tour.  Heading back across the Florida stateline six weeks later I was surprised to notice that I felt like I was coming home.  That was something I couldn't have predicted.  But a week later I found myself on the road, driving north, homeless again.  I don't know when I'll have paid my dues.

I remember one time, standing out in the backyard on a moonless night, looking up at the amazing array of stars out there, the light warm breeze, the chorus of frogs.  I told myself, "No matter what happens, please remember the peace of this moment right now..."

So I try.

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