Last evening, around seven, Mrs Clown came into the bar. She was looking stunning . Of course I gave her a great big hug and told her how much I loved her. She hadn't been in the bar for at least a week and it didn't take a genius, such as myself, to understand that it was because she was feuding with Clown. Jay said that yesterday he'd talked to Clown and that he was having heart problems again. Jay said that after awhile he was able to coax Clown into getting into a cab and going to the hospital. This, of course, explained why Mrs Clown stopped by for a visit. It's obvious that Mrs Clown loves the Clown but even she must be getting tired of Clown going on a bender, ending up in the hospital, getting out of the hospital, getting himself back in shape, and then going on another bender. The boys were very solicitous toward her, especially Ruben Nine Toes, and we all agreed that we loved her much more than we loved Clown. When she left she seemed cheerful.

With Mrs Clown gone the discussion turned to how lucky Matt was that he didn't get physical with Clown last Saturday. Apparently the boys got into a drunken argument and Clown called Matt names. Had Matt touched the Clown he might now be looking at a possible manslaughter charge. Jay thinks Clown needs some more stints. A quick discussion then ensued as to who had the most stints. Apparently Juke Box Joe has five or six, and Ruben only three. Ruben said that Counselor said that Fox had been moved to another hospice. Nobody seems to have Fox's current phone number. Perhaps it would be fair to say that we are not the greatest pals a guy could wish for. I asked Rene to track down Fox's number, because lets face it, the clock is ticking.

This morning Street Jimmy was basking in the unseasonably warm morning sunshine as I approached the bar. He seemed in fine spirits. As I was unlocking the gate I asked him where he slept last night?

"Nowhere special. Starbucks, an' then I wents to the church but some mutha fucka had already locked it and so I just be movin' aroun' all night."

Faggypants joined us moments later. He looked like shit. He claimed he hadn't slept well. He hopes that the men wallpapering his moms kitchen will be done soon because he has to keep his parakeets locked up in their cage and it's dusty everywhere.

Street Jimmy seems fascinated by the fact that Faggypants has pet birds. When Faggypants mentioned that one of the wall paper men has parakeets, and that his can talk, Jimmy insisted on knowing why Faggypants' birds couldn't talk.

"They're girls and they don't talk as well, and some birds don't talk good ,period."

"They like people? Some peoples can talk better than others."

"Exactly, some people have better abilities than others."

I chimed in, "like me, I'm a genius, I'm a brilliant artist, terrific playwright, and a world renowned raconteur . Some people can play the piano, some can dance, some birds can talk , and some can't."

Jimmy nodded sagely, "you sure 'nuff is right. People's be all different."

"Exactly. Look at you , ninety nine percent of the people in the country couldn't survive on the streets like you do. You are a true one-percenter."

Jimmy liked hearing this and nodded in agreement.

Jimmy laid down on the wooden bench as if to go sleep, but then started one of his rambling , free association monologues . These monologues are often quite fascinating and this one was no exception. At first he was just blurting thoughts. When he insisted that voting was stupid I pounced on him.

"You stupid fuck head, you know how many black folks died so you could have the right to vote? How many had their asses kicked, how many went to jail? Why the fuck do you think they killed Martin Luther King? You sorry sack of shit, you can't possibly be that stupid. Plus, I told you I'd give you five bucks if you registered to vote and brought me your absentee ballot. "

Jimmy said he hadn't thought of it the way I described it. "You right, Martin Luther King was a great man."

"Not just that, " Faggypants added, you know how many jobs Harold Washington got for black people, and Jesse White too. Everyone should vote."

Jimmy said he'd register but I pointed out that it was too late.

Soon Jimmy was laying back down on the bench , this time he was riffing on his grandmother , Shotgun, and why she killed his grandfather. "My mamma and my grandma both loved me. When I says, Grandma , why you kill Grandpa,( he was a boxer named Rags) she say, Jimmy he was a molester. But when I keeps askin' her she say Jimmy , shut up. When the kids be fightin' with me by her house she say Jimmy, go out there and fight back. She a bootlegger -"

At this point Faggypants interrupted Jimmy, "she made her own booze?"

Jimmy shook his head, "uh, uh, no she buy it from somebody already in the bottles. She jus' sell it. Cops never fucked with her, nobody fucked with her."

Eventually Jimmy dozed off. When I was ready to go I woke him up . As we were walking down North Ave he said he thought he'd go over to the church and finish his nap. I said that sounded like a good idea and asked him not to forget to pray for my immortal soul. He said he would.

Last night I was sitting at the bar enjoying a refreshing Bud Light when who should come bouncing in the door but Street Jimmy. He had a sly smile on his well rested face as he sat down next to me. His leather aviator cap with the fur ear flaps was missing, and instead he was wearing a plane navy blue stocking cap.

"Where's your warm hat?"

"In my bag," he said holding up a spiffy new backpack.

"Where have you been?"

Jimmy's smile increased, "well....I been in the hospital."

"What for?"

"Well....I gots arrested on Friday. They gots me on the El on suspicion."

"Suspicion, hell, if you look up the word suspicion in the dictionary there's a picture of Street Jimmy."

Jimmy liked this, "yeah, detectives got me , they was brothers so they took me to the hospital instead of jail."

Officer Bill was sitting nearby and he smiled, "yeah, less paperwork."

"You say the dicks were brothers, like brother brothers?"

Jimmy shook his head, "nah, I means they be black so they cut me some slack, one of them say, ' Jimmy, we knows you ain't a dealer'."

"You mean they caught you with a rock?"

"Two."

"You hadn't already smoked them?"

Jimmy shook his head again, "nah, thas' how tired I be. So then they takes me to the hospital but it was all fucked up 'cause they makes you wait a long time for food, they don' lets you watch no TV, you just like a prisoner."

"You couldn't sneak out?"

"They got all my clothes."

"Did you talk to the shrink?"

"Yeah, he cool, I'd like him for my own doctor. He say , Jimmy, you keep doin' what you be doin' and you gonna have a stroke and you be all fucked up."

When Jimmy tried to get me to give him a beer I declined. I have not been feeling charitable of late.

This morning when I arrived at the bar Jimmy was outside waiting for me. "Tobi said you'd be here in a minute." As soon as I unlocked the door Jimmy asked me if Hawkeye had put away his new back pack?

"Was he supposed to," I said turning on the lights?

"Yeah, I forgots it and I jus' looked in the garbage can to make sure he didn't toss it out."

His bag was in the back room. As I handed it to him I said, "you don't have a crack pipe in it, do you?"

Jimmy assured me that he didn't, "Hawkeye a good man," he said as he sorted through his sparse belongings. "He takes care of me."

"By the way, Jimmy, did Hawkeye mention to you that the tall black dude you were trying to keep out of here was Ramsey Lewis' son and he blew a couple of hundred bucks in here."

"Damn, I jus' thought he was a street bum like me."

"Why?"

"He be sleepin' over at Starbucks."

"Maybe he was just tired."

When Faggypants arrived Jimmy told him about his stay in the hospital. At some point Jimmy asked Faggypants if he ever heard voices. At that point I chimed in, "what kind of voices?"

"Voices, you know, voices that talks to you."

"Yes, " I nodded, "all the time, why , do you hear voices that talk to you?"

Jimmy nodded, "hell yeah."

Faggypants wanted to know what the voices said to Jimmy?

"Regular shit, like hey, be careful, or do you know that guy , stuff like that."

"Did you tell the doctor that?"

Jimmy looked at me for a moment and said, "yeah, I tol' him about it, you think I shouldn't, I don' want nobody to think I be crazy or nuthin'".

Faggypants thought Jimmy could make money by being crazy, "those people waking down the street talking to themselves get money from the state."

"Yeah, but they be really crazy, I ain't crazy."

Faggypants and Jimmy debated this point for awhile. And then I pretended that I was the doctor doing the interview. "Jimmy, where do you live?"

"North Ave."

"What number on North Ave.?"

"I jus' lives on the street."

This answer caused Faggypants to roar with laughter. After a while Jimmy answered every question "crack cocaine" and each time Faggypants shrieked with laughter.

"What church to you go to?"

"Crack cocaine."

"Are you married."

"To crack cocaine."

"Any hobbies?"

"Crack cocaine."

After a while Faggpants got bored with Jimmy and expressed his concern that the shoe store man was ripping him off for the repairs of his steel tipped work shoes.

"Of course he ripped you off, you could get a perfectly good pair of work shoes at the Flea Market for ten or twelve bucks, instead of paying thirty bucks for a repair job."

This caused Faggpants to moan audibly.

Faggypants said to make matters worse the Mexican in the wheel chair that is repairing his computer said that it's going to be seventy five dollars. "My mom finally agreed to pay it. When the nice Mexican man asked me where I thought I picked up the virus I told him on a Twink porn sight. My mom yelled at me and told me not to go on anymore gay porn sights."

When the conversation returned to Jimmy's talk with the rehab shrink Jimmy told Faggypants that the shrink told him that if he wasn't careful he'd have a stroke.

Faggypants said, "strokes are nothing to fuck around with Jimmy."

Jimmy nodded, he said his cousin had one and her face was all fucked up (Jimmy contorted his face grotesquely) an' she can talk but she can't hear nothin' and when I seen her I laughed."

"Jimmy," Faggypants said severely, "It's not nice to laugh at the handicapped."

Jimmy agreed, "I knows it, it was jus' funny, it could happen to anyone , I jus' blessed."

Last night , although I was sitting at the end of the bar farthest from the TV set, I still managed to see a lot of the Academy Awards. On the whole, I thought this years gowns were consistently better than last years. The nice thing about watching the Oscars without the sound is that you're never bored by insipid chatter. Usually nobody comes into the bar on Oscar night but last night a bunch of Second City students came in and I found it fascinating that they barely even noticed that the Oscars were on. I would have thought that show biz types would be really into the ultimate show biz group masturbation orgy. Instead , they seemed way more interested in talking shop with each other.

Agelina Jolie seemed disturbingly anorexic, and Billy Crystal face job is not becoming. Comic's should never get face lifts, e.g., Carol Burnett. It looked like Chris Rock had something done, too. What's going on with these people?

This morning Faggypants told me that he thought all of the awards were well deserved. "The only reason I didn't beat Ebert's picks is because I voted for War Horse, even though I knew that the silent movie was going to win." Faggypants said he watched the ceremony in his moms basement and she watched it in the living room. "Every time I went upstairs to get a snack I had to pass the door to the garage and each time she was in the garage smoking a cigarette." This observation caused Faggypants to burst out in laughter. He said that the basement is quite comfortable, "I have a nice lazy boy to sit down on and a table on each side for my snacks. It's really a great place to watch TV."

Faggypants said he's concerned with his Twink friends, "they could hardly tell you who the president is, let alone a senator or their congressmen. Don't they understand people died for their rights? They're so self absorbed it makes me sick." Faggypants once again apologized for disappearing before Gracie showed Arthur yesterday at the Dog Show. "I was just too tired."

I gave him a detailed description of how well Gracie handled Arthur.

"I don't understand why she doesn't always show him herself?"

I agreed, "I think she does a much better herself than the handlers. She's developed a signature gallop as she moves around the ring which I think is extremely effective."

Faggypants once again mentioned the frightening scene that took place at the Border Terrier rat hunting exhibit. I was particularly interested in watching the Border Terrier's because the two ladies who live at the bottom of hill at the Dunes were in the exhibition with their two Border Terriers. It was quite interesting watching the terriers run through a simulated tunnel to capture a fake rat. What upset Faggypants so much was the man who was bent over on his knees at the end of the tunnel. His ass cheeks were exposed, and much to Faggypants' horror, at the end of the mans butt crack was a large shock of angry black hair. "I really could barely sleep all night just thinking about it." I agreed that it was not an attractive sight , but that however much it must have horrified Faggypants , I personally did not lose even a minutes sleep over it.

After Faggypants finished cleaning he said he thought he'd take the train to the Garfield Park Conservatory , " I love being in there on a cold day when the sun is shining."

Still no Street Jimmy sightings. Hawkeye says if he doesn't see him tonight he'll check on his computer to see if he's in jail.

Last night, shortly after I sat down on a bar stool in the middle of the bar, Chief walked in the door. As soon as our eyes met I started nodding. Chief was trying to take the offensive as he approached me, but I wasn't buying it. "Chief, what the fuck were you trying to do when Bill Murray came in last month?"

"I met him twenty years ago."

"Big deal, you know when celebrities come in here we leave them alone."

"I just said hi to him, I didn't bother him."

Chief is a very large, imposing Indian. He's suffered numerous bouts of trauma to his body over the years, among which was the loss of hearing in one of his ears. This has caused him to speak with a semi shout which does not enhance the experience of having even a routine conversation with him. When he's excited he really shouts, and by now he was really excited. He kept insisting that he'd done nothing wrong and I kept insisting that he had. People in the bar were staring at us as I kept repeating that he had no business bothering Bill Murray.

"If I'm in a bar I'm going to talk to anyone I want to."

"Not in this bar."

"This is not a five star restaurant. It's the Ale House."

"Precisely, and in the Ale House we don't bother celebrities, and we don't bother people sitting at the tables, especially ladies."

This seemed to further anger chief, "that's bullshit."

"Chief, there's fifty bars with in a mile of here, if you don't like the way we do things , go over to Bennigans with Clown."

"I just saw Clown at Bennigans." Chief said that he'd been drinking at the Ale House for thirty years and he could have torn the bar up on numerous occasions.

"You would have only done it once Chief. And now you're talking like a complete asshole, and by the way , remember when the guys were in here interviewing me for WGN about the Blago painting and you disrupted it so bad they packed up their camera and left. That was free advertising!"

This seemed to take the wind out of Chief's sails , at least a little. He apologized for the WGN incident. After about an hour of non stop shouting I told Chief I was done talking. I suggested he open a bar called Chief's and have whatever rules he wanted. Now Chief is not a logician, but he's not stupid, and he grudgingly agreed to make an effort to tone it down in the future, at least the next time a celebrity walks in.

This morning Faggypants had been cleaning for over an hour when I got there. He said we must've been busy because the place was an absolute pig stye. "Lot's of puke. It's lucky you weren't here because I've been gagging like mad."

When I asked him why he was here so early he said his mom was going to have a man wallpaper the kitchen this morning so his mom wanted him out of the house early. About a half an hour later the phone rang and it was Faggypants' mom. A few seconds into the conversation Faggypants started apologizing for something. This went on for several minutes. Faggypants' voice grew increasingly shrill as he continued to apologize. When he finally hung up he said that yesterday the wall paper man called up the house and he gave Faggypants a message that he'd be there late. He forgot to tell his mother and so she called the wall paper man up and now Faggypants was getting yelled at.

When the bar was finally clean we all piled into Tobi's car to go see Gracie at the big dog show at McCormick Place. As we walked through the maze of the parking garage and the myriad corridors I told Tobi that there was no way in hell I was ever going to find my way back to the car. She assured me that she would be able to handle things. Faggypants had the giggles after the six or seven beers he'd had before we left. We both thought whoever designed the hideous carpet in the Lakeside Exposition Hall should have been imprisoned. Faggypants had no trouble sneaking into the dog show which saved him twenty bucks. As we searched for Gracie among the rows of dogs Faggypants pointed out that at least eighty percent of the woman involved with the dogs had to be lesbian's.

"Maybe it's just because they're wearing work clothes?"

Faggypants said he could tell. He petted almost every dog he could get his hands on. Gracie introduced us to her Field Spaniel friends. Her dog, Arthur, was next to his sister. The owner of Arthur's sister, Mai Tai, at Grace's insistence, showed us a number of wonderful tricks that Mai Tai could perform. Arthur really can't do any tricks and so I suggested to Gracie that she should spend more time teaching Arthur tricks, but then , again, we were faced with the age old question, who was going to train Gracie.

Dog people strike me as very eccentric. It's an interesting, but exhausting world and by the time Arthur picked up his third place ribbon I was badly in need of a nap.

Tobi's sense of direction was flawless and she easily found the car. Of course we had lost Faggypants hours ago.

Yesterday evening Lee and his smoking hot girlfriend (the former Miss Saigon) came into the bar with a huge tray of Vietnamese sandwiches which they'd made at one of their sandwich shops on Broadway. This is the second time Lee has done this and they were snatched up even faster than the first time. While we were devouring the sandwiches a group of eight or nine asians came into the bar. I bent over and asked Lee and Tiffany if they could tell which country the asians were from? It was amazing, they said in rapid fire succession , "Chinese, Vietnamese, Chinese, Thai, " and then a few more Chinese and a Vietnamese. When I expressed skepticism , Tiffany got up and walked over to the group and came back five minutes later and said the Thai was the only one they got wrong, he was Cambodian. After we polished off the sandwiches Lee opened a paper bag and brought out some balls that he identified as sesame buns filled with coconut. They were marvelous and we finished those off in a matter of seconds.

Fortunately Ruben Nine Toes wasn't present or he certainly would have tried to hog as many sandwiches as he could get his greedy paws on. Ruben was at Burton Place where Anna Marie is now working. Clearly he had a sponsor or he wouldn't have gone. According to Clown Trib has been texting and posting on FB talking up his girlfriends new gig. Best of luck to them.

This morning there were no Street Jimmy sightings. This could mean anything, but given how bad he looked yesterday he might have managed to get himself into some rehab institution. Faggypants seemed to think Jimmy was back in jail, which is always a possibility , especially when his ass is dragging like it has been. When he's really messed up he tends to get surly with the cops and that usually leads to predictable problems.

Gracie poked her head in the door on her way to the dog show. She wanted Faggypants to visit her today at McCormick Place. Faggypants told her he would, but when I told him I was going tomorrow he changed his mind and said he'd probably go with me on Sunday. "The weather is supposed to be warmer, it will be more fun."

When Faggypants said he thought we should try and call Fox I couldn't find Fox's number. Of course he didn't have it either. "We are really great pals, aren't we, " I said putting my wallet back in my pocket, "the poor slob is at deaths door and we can't figure out how to call him up."

Faggypants agreed that we were both , with out a doubt, good for nothing assholes. "It's just so hard to know what to say."

"True, you can't ask him how he is because, of course , he's totally fucked up and all he's thinking about is when he's going to die. "

"I guess," Faggypants said with a sigh, "you must be wondering if you're going to live long enough to see the Academy Awards?" As soon as he mentioned the Academy Awards this Sunday, Faggypants rattled off all of his favorite movies, and then tried to decide where he was going to watch the ceremony from.

Yesterday evening they were still talking about the orgy of bleeding that Ruben Nine Toes foisted on his unsuspecting colleagues the previous day. When Officer Bill pointed out that the huge glob of blackish blood that he and Matt cleaned up was remarkable, even for a veteran police officer, Ruben rejoined, "ya shoulda just let Faggypants clean it up the next day."

I was quick to point out that had we left the massive glob of blackish fetal shaped blood on the floor overnight by the next morning it would have been sitting at the bar smoking a cigarette and having a beer. Ruben showed no signs of expressing either remorse for the mess he'd made, nor gratitude to the men who cleaned it up.

This morning Faggypants was early in spite of the snowy weather. He said lately he's been waking up around three thirty or four in the morning and going down to the ice box and eating some fruit or whatever, and each time he does this his mother is either in the cold garage or on her way into the cold garage to smoke a cigarette. "I tell her, mom, why don't you smoke in the basement, it's too cold in the garage."

"What does she say?"

"I don't want it to get smoky in the basement. When we were kids and we'd be driving somewhere she'd be chain smoking cigarettes and my dad would be smoking cigars and we'd be screaming that we couldn't breathe and she'd scream at us , 'shut up'!"

Faggypants added that she never turns the lights on when she's smoking in either the garage or the basement.

I told him I never sleep more than two or three hours at a time anymore. "I guess it's old age. If I didn't take my naps I wouldn't be able to function. "

Street Jimmy looked particularly bad when he knocked at the door. When I pointed this out to him he said that he needed to go to rehab , "for a couple of weeks to get my head straight." Faggypants told him he needed to go for a lot longer than a couple of weeks. Soon we were on a discussion about which drug was worse , crack, regular coke, or heroin? Jimmy insisted heroin was the worst. I disagreed, " a junkie can get by for as much as a day on one hit, whereas a crack head need a hit every hour. A junkie can work, a crack head can't." This discussion soon bored Jimmy and he curled up on a wood bench and fell into a deep sleep, which was only slightly interrupted whenever Faggpants occasionally knocked over a chair while mopping.

On my way home from the bar Hawkeye called me up. He asked me if I'd seen the new big guy Jimmy had been complaining about? I assured him that I had not. "Well, Jimmy came into the bar last night and he said the big guy was outside talking to people and that I should run him off. Then the big guy came in the door and he seemed fine so I let him sit down. So then the guy sits down and proceeds to spend a couple of hundred bucks buying people drinks . Somebody comes up to me and says the guy is Ramsey Lewis' son and so someone Googles him and sure as shit it is Ramsey Lewis' son." Both Hawkeye and I found this very amusing.

I had to go to the Dunes for an important meeting and just got back now. After a nap I plan on heading for the bar. Never a dull moment.

I try to walk a little farther each evening on my way to the bar, especially when the weather is nice. Last night , after my leg almost gave out at Menominee St I aborted my walk and headed directly to the bar. There were no discernible traces of blood coming from any of Ruben Nine Toes orifices, so I sat down on the only available bar stool, which was between Clown and Ruben. Ruben said he doesn't remember when he stopped bleeding last night, "I fell asleep and when I woke up I wasn't bleeding anymore." When I pointed out that he left a serious mess the night before , he simply shrugged and said, with a great deal of pride , "when men were men...and while we're on the subject of men, fuck you! "

"Fuck you too, fatso. You should thank officer Bill and Matt for cleaning up your disgusting mess."

"It was just blood."

"It wasn't regular blood, it was very gooey blackish blood."

"Dick and dick."

Mierka was sitting in the corner with one of her Red Orchid actor pals. They were trying to eat Thai food while Ruben was describing his various maladies. I think that Mierka is less of a delicate flower than she makes out to be. She was very protective of the porno star she brought in the other night. I would love to have met the porno girl, and not just because I love porn and the girls who perform in it, but because there's some questions I would like to have asked her. The porno star was an anal specialist (three dicks up her ass at one time) and so I really would love to know what type of lube they're using now because it's routine for guys to go straight from ass to mouth without any scrubbing. My guess is there's some kind of new lube that tastes good and kills nasty poop germs. When I asked Mierka to ask her porno friend about this Mierka said she thought that would be in poor taste -no pun intended- but that she thought the porno girl might be willing to come down to the bar and sell some of her porno stuff now that she's retired. I'm not sure about this, as I don't know what the current market for used porno stuff is.

Professor Bill was sitting up in his usual spot in the window. He was laughing a great deal at our conversation. His brother is the Savage that writes the Savage Love column in the Reader. I asked Bill if he'd ask his brother about the anal lube . He was noncommittal .

This morning Faggypants was again early. He hasn't had the shakes lately which is a good sign. He was wearing a really cute outfit . His shirt was a take off on a sports jersey, and had a number on it. He said that it comes from a company that specializes in twink fashions. "There used to be one on the North Side but now there's only one in Wicker Park. How much do you think I paid for it?"

"Used or new?"

"Used."

"Three bucks."

"Are you kidding, it was twenty. New it would cost eighty." Faggypants went on to describe all of the stores that specialize in twink fashions, and then he listed the brands. I'd never heard of any of them. He wants to take me to some used clothing stores that he likes and help me select a couple of nice sports jackets. I could use a nice Harris Tweed jacket so I might take him up on it.

When Street Jimmy arrived he once again asked to sweep the cigarette butts for three bucks. Faggypants begged me to let Jimmy sweep.

"I wonder why the Chamber of Commerce guy isn't doing it anymore? I even complimented him on Monday."

After Jimmy finished sweeping he came in and Faggypants gave him a lemonade to wash down his BBQ chips. Jimmy said he had a confrontation last night with some big guy. "The mutha fucka be hangin' aroun an' I tol' him to get his ass outa my neighborhood or I fuck him up good."

Faggypants was skeptical, "you just can't tell big guys you're going to fuck them up."

"Why not, the bigger they is the harder they fall."

Faggypants was unconvinced, "the bigger they are, the harder they hit."

"I breaks 'em down , then after I breaks 'em down, I fucks 'em up."

"How do you break them down?"

"Bust their legs up."

"How?"

"Maybe with a two by four."

"Where you going to get the two by four?"

"I might stash one."

"So you tell the guy to wait while I go get my two by four?"

Jimmy shook his head, "no , I jus' ease off and goes and gets it an' then I breaks him down."

"What if he gets a gun while you get your two by four."

"I plays to win."

This conversation went on for another five minutes before I became bored and gave Jimmy his three dollars and he said he was going to Macdonald's to buy breakfast.

Faggypants doesn't feel like a movie today, "I think I'll sneak in a museum. " I explained to him an easy way to sneak into the Museum of Contemporary Art and he said that sounded good.

I got to the bar early yesterday afternoon. Ruben Nine Toes was holding a napkin to his broad, copper colored nose. Grace said his nose had been bleeding since three. Now this is nothing new, Ruben has a history of bleeding from various orifices, but this seemed to be a little worse than usual. As soon as one napkin would become saturated with bloody goo, he'd bunch it into a ball and then turn around and fire it at the waste basket behind him. Fortunately, the bleeding didn't deter him from drinking his beer.

Around four we decided to order Vietnamese sandwiches from our new favorite sandwich shop on Broadway. When the food arrived Ruben ate his sandwich while deftly moving his bloody napkin out of the way of his mouth and then quickly back in place inside his bleeding nose. Although it was not an attractive sight watching Ruben hemorrhaging, I nonetheless managed to enjoy my delicious curry sandwich. When Street Jimmy arrived he got a big kick out of watching Ruben bleed. When strangers would walk in Jimmy would tell them about how Ruben shit in the ice bucket on his recent trip to Kentucky.

Amazingly , a young couple walked in, almost stumbling over Ruben's walker, and then , after almost getting hit by one of his bloody napkins, asked Grace if we served food? When Ruben finally got up to leave at eight, the area he had been sitting at looked like the scene of a serious boating accident. Blood on the bar, on the floor, blood on the bar stool, it was unquestionably a truly horrific sight. When Gracie came around from behind to inspect the extent of the horror, she immediately recoiled in disgust. Fortunately, Officer Bill and Matt treated the bloody mess as if it were a crime scene. I was truly impressed with there professionalism. After donning rubber gloves, they scrubbed the area with a generous application of bleach until there was not the slightest trace of Ruben's blood anywhere in the bar.

This morning, on my way to the bar, I ran into Street Jimmy inside Dunkin' Donuts.

Jimmy was engaged in conversation with a nice looking crossing guard lady. When he saw me he announced to the Pakistani ladies behind the counter that I was his boss. This information elicited some raised eyebrows from the Pakistani ladies. I immediately shook my head and said, "no, I'm not his boss, I'm his parole officer." This made Jimmy laugh.

Faggypants got to the bar earlier than usual. He said that his mother refused to drive him to the station today because she was afraid it was going to snow. "So I took the bus and as soon as I got on the corner the bus came, and then as soon as I got to the train station the train came, and then when I got to the Brown Line the train came right away. My mom turned the lights out again and so I fell in the dark and I've got more bruises. Look," he said rolling up his sleeve and revealing some ugly bruises.

Jimmy showed up about forty minutes later. He said the crossing guard lady was going to help him get a Link Card. "She looked to me like she wanted some Street Jimmy dick."

Jimmy nodded , "probably do."

For some reason the guy who's been sweeping the sidewalks hasn't been showing up lately so I let Jimmy sweep the cigarette butts for three bucks. While Jimmy was outside sweeping Faggypants told me what a swell time he had yesterday with Gracie. "We had delicious salads at Water Tower Place. They were expensive because they charge you by the pound. Oh, and you've got to see the new Walgreens on Michigan Ave. It's three stories high and has everything in it . I loved it."

When Jimmy got done sweeping Faggypants showed him his new tennis shoes. Jimmy liked them, especially the pictures of skulls. In passing, Jimmy mentioned that he was arrested yesterday on State Street for panhandling. "They say, c'mon Jimmy, you know you shouldn't be here, gots to take you in. They jus' be makin' their quota on me so I gots taken to the police station."

"How long were you in?"

"Six hours."

Faggypants said, "I hate jail, you can't sleep on those cement cots."

Jimmy disagreed, "I slept the whole time. You don' want to be sitting there worrin' so it's better to sleeps."

I asked him what there was to worry about?

"When you gonna get out, stuff like that."

I told Faggypants to write down Jimmy's court date, which was April 10, on the calender because, "Jimmy's never going to remember."

Jimmy said he was sleeping at Starbucks last night but the same dude that woke him up the night before woke him up again so he went over to the laundry room on Sedgwick and finished sleeping there.

My leg has not been getting better for the last two days so I'm going home to rest.

Last night shortly after I arrived at the bar Fireman Rick brought in a Vietnamese friend of his named Lee who owns a couple of sandwich shops on the North Side. Lee called and had a bunch of sandwiches sent over from his shop on Broadway. They arrived about a half an hour later and the patrons devoured them like a pack of starving wolves . They were really good, in fact , I haven't had anything quite like them . Some whack job close to my age had come in the bar earlier and sat down at the TV end of the bar. I heard Gracie ask him how he was and he answered "I'll be a lot better after I have a drink." The guy looked like trouble the minute he walked into the bar. After he scarfed down a couple of free sandwiches Gracie told me that after he heard that they were from a Vietnamese restaurant he started bitching that he would never have eaten them had he known. He claimed he was a Vietnam vet and he hated all things Vietnamese. When I asked Gracie if she thought I should toss the guy out she said that she'd keep an eye on him. Meanwhile, everyone was having a great time, and Matt brought some superb chocolate for desert. About an hour later the whack job vet got up , put on his coat, and as he was walking out of the door he stopped next to Fireman Rick and Lee and said, "who's the Vietnamese?" Lee said cheerfully, "I am." The whack job vet then proceeded to tell him that they were enemies and then gave Lee a rough hug and a parting slap on the back. (The slap on the back was anything but friendly). As he exited he yelled, "I was a corporal and I'm still not over it." I tried to answer him that I struck out three times in my little league all star game but I got over it, but it was too late , he was gone. Lee took it well, I thought, but it was pretty embarrassing. Lee's girlfriend, who he said made the delicious sandwiches, came in a few minutes later. She was drop dead gorgeous, and when I pointed that out to her Lee said she'd been voted Miss Saigon when she was 23.

This morning my leg seemed gimpier than normal on my way to the bar. Faggypants arrived in a pair of silver, shin high rubber boots that had some type of blue design on them.

"Faggypants, those are the gayest boots I've ever seen."

"I've got gayer ones than these."

Before he started cleaning he said he needed to super glue his work shoes. This took a good twenty minutes. By the time he was finished Street Jimmy knocked. When I opened the door Jimmy was standing there with a cigarette dangling precariously from his lips, I , "Jimmy, you look like pure shit, and before you come in here put out your fucking cigarette."

"I jus' woke up."

"Where'd you sleep?"

" I tried to sleep at Starbucks but some guy kept comin' aroun' and waking everyone up so I went to the laundryroom and then when I be sleepin' some niggers come in there and started smokin' crack so I went out an' got me some shorty's an we run the niggers the hell outa there."

"Where were these black intruders from?"

"South side. I said , hey I don' know you niggers. What ya'll comin' aroun' here for. "

Faggypants pointed out that there's been a new panhandler in the neighborhood for the last month.

"Yeah," Jimmy nodded, "he ain't from aroun' here. Poo-leece run his ass away from Stop and Rob an' now he be hangin' at the El stop."

"The guys annoying, " I said, "he finally stopped trying to hustle me after I told him that Jesus would take care of his sorry ass for about the third time."

Jimmy said the problem is that, "white people's keep given these stranger niggers money so they start hangin' aroun' all the time."

"So Jimmy, what is your solution, not give the bums any money."

Jimmy nodded, "hell yeah."

"But couldn't that same principle be applied to you?"

Jimmy seemed confused, "wacha mean?"

"If nobody gave you money then you wouldn't hang around, either."

"But people's knows me. They likes me."

Faggypants suggested that maybe it was time Jimmy considered giving up crack. Jimmy said he was going to get off the street soon because he needed a rest. He then announced he was going to go out and hustle some money because he was hungry and needed some breakfast, "'cause breakfast is the most important meal of the day." On that we all agreed.

Gracie arrived with her dog Arthur before Jimmy left. She said Rene called and canceled their workout at the health club so she asked Faggpants if he wanted to walk down town and pick up some parking stickers at City Hall and then they could walk back to Water Tower Place and she'd treat for lunch. "That way I can get all of my exercise in by walking." Faggypants thought that this was a swell idea.

Last night when I walked into the bar the boys were back from the Derby Film Festival in Louisville. Sergio seemed none the worse for wear, but Ruben Nine Toes was completely drunk and babbling almost incoherently. Sergio said that it was his bad luck to have shared a room with Ruben. Sergio insisted that Ruben didn't shit in the ice bucket, but instead he used the waste paper basket. Now I suppose on some level that is preferable, but all in all I think I'll avoid ever sharing a room with Ruben, in fact, I think I will try and avoid ever using the same hotel Ruben had previously stayed at. Rene was with them and she said , although she was pretty much drunk the entire trip, it was nice that Counselors movie won first place in the Best Documentary category. When I asked her if Nicole ever shut up Rene said , "yes, she was pretty hungover the whole time." Sergio added that it would have been hard to get a word in edgewise for Nicole given that Rene never shut up. Rene said Johnny Lira was a little shaky, and that he took a tumble outside the bar but didn't spill his wine.

"Did they let you drink outside the bar?"

Rene nodded, "yeah, if you're smoking you can take your drink outside with you."

"Wow, " I said with a degree of awe in my voice, "those hillbilly's are amazing, can you imagine if we let people take their drinks outside here?"

Sergio said that the Winnebago broke down and it had to be left there, "it's probably not worth fixing. We had to rent cars to come home in."

I sounded like a great trip. When Street Jimmy came in I pointed at Ruben and told Jimmy about Ruben shitting in the ice bucket. Jimmy immediately walked over to Ruben and demanded to know the details. Within seconds Jimmy was laughing at Ruben hysterically. "You disgusting', can you imagine bein' in a cell with that fat mutha fucka," Jimmy said pointing at Ruben, "you one sick mutha fucka, Ruben. "

Sergio said that Ruben was also pissing in a glass while they were driving and that every time they stopped Ruben through the contents of the glass out the door so everyone had to walk through a puddle of Rubens urine. Ruben seemed quite proud of this . Street Jimmy said if Ruben was his "celly" (cell mate in prison) "I'da killed the mutha fucka jus' so's I could get away from his fat smelly ass."

Jimmy lost the high ground moments later when he admitted that he and his cellmates used to keep food in there jail toilet. "Everybody do that, it be wrapped up. We put milk and and ham and all kinds of stuff in the toilet so it wouldn't go bad."

"I don't know," I said, "I don't care how good you wrap it up, I don't think I could chow down on food that's been in a toilet. Did you at least take it out before you took a dump?"

Jimmy looked at me like I was seriously retarded, "of course I did."

This morning on my way to the bar Jimmy was in front of Stop and Rob talking to a real big, middle aged black guy. He gave me a cheerful wave as I walked by. Faggypants arrived at the bar shortly after I did. He said he felt great and was full of energy. Because the weather is so nice he thinks he'll wash the matts outside. Jimmy arrived a few minutes later. He said the guy he was talking to wasn't a crack head , but a security guard, "he jus' got fired so he thinks he gonna be a body guard." Jimmy said that he slept in the laundry room last night. When it looked like the guy who usually sweeps the sidewalks wasn't going to show because of the holiday I let Jimmy talk me into sweeping the cigarette butts for three dollars. After he was finished he said they were selling crack at Clark and Division now, "it's lots better than the stuff on Sedgwick."

"Isn't that risky, there's a lot of cops on Division?"

Jimmy nodded, "I don' think he carries that much on him. He always be runnin' off to get more."

Gracie and I switched cars now that she's back in town. I think I'll drive up to the Dunes.

This morning Faggypants had already been cleaning for an hour before I got to the bar. He said it was a mess. Second City's new stand up comic nightclub, UP, which is directly across the street from us, had it's grand opening last night and probably jacked up our numbers. Faggypants said his mother greeted him this morning , in her trademark husky, cigarette voice, with "come give your mother a hug." Faggypants does a great impression of his mother and he invariably laughs after he imitates her. Faggypants was in a very political mood . He's enraged at the Republicans, and particularly Frothy Santorum. It's not just the gay bashing that infuriates him, but the religious bigotry. "Can you believe it, today he wants to get rid of public education!"

Gracie arrived with some food around ten. Faggypants said he didn't want his vegetable sandwich. I ate my sandwich , which was chicken, cheese and honey. It was edible, but barely. Street Jimmy gave his secret knock and Faggypants opened the side door quickly and let him in. Faggypants has been feeling guilty about snitching on Jimmy the other day and brought some food for him. This seemed to please Jimmy and he sat down in the corner and started eating it with gusto. When he asked for BBQ potato chips Gracie said no.

"Gracie , why you treat me like this?"

"You already have food."

"I likes chips, you know that, they vegetables."

"For christ sake , give him some chips."

Faggypants jumped up and gave Jimmy some chips. Jimmy pulled a bottle of hot sauce from his coat pocket and then applied it liberally to not only the chips but whatever else he was eating. Gracie told Faggypants that he should go on Face Book. Faggypants said he'd think about it. Not willing to take no for an answer, Gracie set up her computer and commenced signing Faggypants up for FB. Although Faggypants whined a little he gave her his basic information. Jimmy listened to all of this intently.

"You know , " I said to Jimmy, "you're already on FB."

Jimmy stared at me blankly for a moment.

"Clown already set you up. You've got lots of friends."

Gracie added that he had some pictures up , too.

"Let me see," Jimmy said marching over to where Gracie was writing on her computer. Gracie proceeded to produce Jimmy's FB file within seconds. Jimmy studied his page with wonderment.

"Hell, " I added, "Jimmy, if you Google Street Jimmy it goes to you and some street musician who used to play on Maxwell Street years ago. You're famous. People in China know about you."

"For real?"

"For real. You know Jimmy, maybe you should have Clown write some stuff for you. Maybe you could find a girlfriend. Wouldn't that be great?"

Jimmy just shrugged.

"You just describe the kind of chick you're looking for, and then the chicks send you pictures of what they look like."

Jimmy said he had no preferences.

"Well, you said you don't want a real fat girl?"

"Sure don't."

"Okay, how old?"

"I don' care if she look good."

"Any racial preferences?"

"No."

"What are your interests beside crack smoking?"

Jimmy remained silent.

"You must have some kind of interests? How about dancing."

"Nah."

"TV."

"Nah."

"Fine dining."

Jimmy just shook his head as I went down a list of possible interests. Finally I said , "Jimmy, you just can't tell a bitch that all you want to do is smoke crack."

"I really don' want no bitch complicating my life up."

"What if she has a good job and a nice crib?"

"That'd be cool."

"Well, you've got to put something down."

"I likes sex."

"Okay, that's a good start. Do you have any kind of philosophy of life."

"Live and let live."

"Not bad. I'll tell Clown to write it for you."

I got up at five this morning to drive Tobi to Union Station. They are doing some major construction around the station and so I had to do several looptey loops to let her off in the right place. This annoyed me but I faked cheerfulness. I was already reading the papers when Faggypants arrived. He said he'd just seen Street Jimmy in front of Stop and Rob and that Jimmy was not pleasant. "I said , 'hi Jimmy', and he just made some kind of snorting noise and looked the other way."

"I guess he's mad at you because you ratted him out to me yesterday."

Faggypants agreed, "I'm still annoyed that he wouldn't stop bothering me while I was on the ladder."

"I think I'll yell at him for being annoyed with you for being annoyed with him."

"Just drop it."

"Of course I won't just drop it, I believe not only in truth and justice in the absolute sense, but also as a course of action."

This seemed to go over Faggypants' head and so he started assembling his mop and broom and dust pan in order to commence working.

When Anya came to work Faggypants told her about the auto show. "There were these two really nice young marine recruiters and they said they'd give me a T shirt if I could do the appropriate number of push ups for my body types and so I said sure, and then they said twenty-five and so I got down and started doing them real fast and so when they realized I was going to do twenty five they started repeating fifteen every time I did another one and then finally when I was about at fifty and I started gasping for breath they both stood over me and said, come on Marine, try harder and so then I did a final push up. They were adorable." When Anya asked Faggypants if he got his Marine T shirt he said yes, but it was an extra large and so he can't wear it.

Gracie showed up with her dog Arthur, her other dog Eli is still in Maryland with Basil. She's going to cooking class with her college friend Charles. Grace said that when she talked to Ruben Nine Toes yesterday night he was sitting in a bar across from the hotel the film crew was staying at in louisville. He said that after being with them in the Winnebago for seven hours the last thing he wanted to do was drink with them. The most disturbing thing Ruben had to say was that even though his hotel room was handicapped accessible the minute he saw the toilet he knew that if he sat down on the toilet he'd never be able to get back up because it was so low, therefore, he took a shit in the ice bucket and then dumped the shit into the toilet. Now I personally don't think knowing this that I'll ever be able to enjoy the hotel experience again. I certainly don't think I'll ever use an ice bucket again.

Faggypants wanted to do something with me today so I suggested we go to the Art Institute and he could get in on my family pass. He said that sounded swell but after his sixth beer I knew that I'd go nuts listening to his non stop chatter so I told him I decided not to go. After he left I did , however, go to the Cultural Center to see the skull exhibit. There were some good things, but all in all the show was spotty. I started walking through Millennium Park after I'd viewed the exhibition but my leg started to feel like rubber. I think I over did it what with walking from the Washington St Station and then up four long flights of stairs so I went back to the Cultural Center and sat down on a nice easy chair in the Senior Citizen Center with all of the other old people and rested for almost an hour. One table had a sign Grey Panthers and five woman and one man were sitting at the table chatting. I guess these are supposed to be some militant geriatric group but they seemed pretty innocuous to me. I remember living in Berkeley during the hey day of the Black Panthers and when gays started getting beat up in the Mission District of San Francisco some of the muscle gay guys formed a group called the Pink Panthers and whooped the shit out of the punks from the Peninsula who'd been coming into town to gay bash.

After I rested up I walked over to the Merchandise Mart and took the El Back to Old Town. While I was on the train Grace called and said she brought me some food from her cooking class. When I got to bar I wasn't that hungry but her fried chicken was a festival of exotic taste thrills, her black eyed peas a veritable feast of flavors and her lemon cake nothing short of an orgy of guilty pleasures. Marky Mark came in with a forlorn look on his face. He said he'd received a five day suspension for insubordination. I tried to give him a pep talk but his work sounds very depressing. I told him Trib had been given a buy out and Friday had been his last day at work. Marky Mark and I both agreed that these are desperate times, and the ruthless bastards that control the money in this country are fucking us up the ass with absolutely no lube.

Last night when I arrived at the bar Ruben Nine Toes and Jay were sitting in the corner. Neither one of them said that they'd been able to nap. I assured them that I had had a desperately needed two hour nap and now felt tremendous. Clown was busy at a table with his computer. He's organizing and promoting a comedy night at Corcoran's next week and it's taking up a lot of his time. He's been remarkably sober since his last binge. Becca came in about a half an hour after I arrived and shortly after that Clown made a hasty exit. Becca has learned to sit far enough away from Ruben so that he can't grab her ass without tremendous effort.

This morning when I got to the bar Tobi said that Street Jimmy had already stopped by looking for me. When Faggypants arrived he showed me how clean the windows were. Yesterday he took advantage of the nice weather and washed them inside and out. I told him I thought it was remarkable how clean he got them. He proudly showed me how he got them to sparkle by rubbing a crumpled newspaper over them after they were washed. I was even more effusive in my praise. Faggypants' smile quickly turned to a frown when he went on to say, "while I was outside standing on the ladder Street Jimmy kept pestering me for money. He made me so frustrated that I finally threw him a dollar and then he asked me for more!"

This angered me. Jimmy has been told a million times not to hustle the staff for money. "Faggypants, I thought I told you the next time he tries to hit you for money you should tell him that you're not allowed to give him money unless you get permission from me."

"I know, but he wouldn't stop, I even threw some change at him."

When Jimmy gave his secret knock a few minutes later I scolded him before he was halfway through the door. "What the fuck are you bothering Faggypants while he's up on a ladder. You know I told you not to beg the people who work here for money."

"No, no, " Jimmy said shaking his head, "I didn' do that ."

"You liar, " Faggypants screamed shrilly, "you wouldn't leave me alone."

Jimmy looked me in the eye and said Faggypants was wrong.

"So Faggypants is lying, is that what you're saying?"

Jimmy shook his head again, "I'm sayin' that he not be tellin' it how it happened, tha's all."

"So should I fire Faggypants for lying about you?"

"No, no, don' fire him."

"Jimmy, I'm not kidding, quit fucking up."

Jimmy assured me he would quit fucking up, and then he quickly went on to tell me that he'd seen the black guy with the shaved head. "I tol' him he shouldn't be messin' aroun' wit you or you'd fuck his ass up. " The black guy with the shaved head whom Jimmy was referring to asked me last night in front of the bar if I wanted to "buy some cocaine." Tobi told me some guy asked her the same thing the night before in front of Fireplace . He was better dressed than the average street bum and reasonably well built, however, this did not prevent me from getting in his face and shoving him away from the entrance while screaming at him that I was going to describe him to the cops. The guy reached in his pocket and held a set of keys and said he didn't have any cocaine. Street Jimmy was quickly on the scene and he told the guy to scram. The louder I yelled the faster the bald headed black guy moved. Jimmy said he saw the guy walk into the bar one night when Hawkeye was working.

"Did you tell Hawkeye the guy was trying to sell coke."

"I did but he didn' pay me no mind."

"Next time point him out to Hawkey and tell him I said he could call the cops on him."

Faggypants said that yesterday after he was done cleaning he walked all the way to Wicker Park and had an amazing slice of pizza, "it was a real small place and it's supposed to be the best in Chicago. Then I had some really amazing sushi at another restaurant and then, " he paused for emphasis, "I had some great soup at a neat Chinese place."

"You must have been hungry."

"I was starving."

Faggypants thinks he'll take advantage of the nice weather and walk to the zoo this afternoon. I think I'll go to the Dunes, I haven't been there for a while and it really is a beautiful day.

No sooner had I arrived at the Dunes than Gracie , who's on her way home from the dog show in New York, called me from somewhere in Ohio. She said she'd just talked to Ruben Nine Toes and Counselor's Winnebago had just passed Indianapolis . The film crew is heading for the Derby Film Festival in Kentucky and Ruben says that everyone but the driver, Sergio and himself are drinking bloody mary's. Rene and Johnny Lira are also traveling with the film crew so there should be some fun stories when they get home.

Grace called this morning and said she'd be heading home with her pooches tomorrow. We watched the Westminster finals in the bar (only one customer, a stranger, dared complain we weren't watching the basketball game) and there was a loud shout when Ruben Nine Toes spotted Grace's dog Arthur during the Field Spaniel trials. From what we could determine Arthur took his loss very well. There was unanimous disapproval of the Pekinese winning best of show. Ruben Nine Toes yelled "fix", Daniella leaped to his feet and gesticulated wildly while shrieking "disgraceful", even D Train felt that some type of investigation was in order. The Pekinese made no sense to me what with so many other great looking dogs to choose from. True , it's well known that I'm partial to the more athletic dogs, but I like foo foo's, too.

Late yesterday afternoon I was sitting in the bar waiting for Tobi when Street Jimmy appeared. After plopping his stuff on the floor he sat down on the stool next to me and said with a large, heartfelt smile, "wha's up?"

"They said you were in jail ."

"Who said I was in jail."

"One of the crack heads up by Stop and Rob."

"I ain't been in jail in a looong time, an' tha's the way I'm fixin' to keep it."

"I guess it's been a log time if you consider six months a long time. Then where were you?"

"I", now he was really smiling, "was at China's mamma's house with China."

"Really, she back on drugs?"

Jimmy shook his head, and said very seriously, "uh, uh, she jus' gots out of re-hab, I seen the papers." China isn't a crack head unless that's all she can get her hands on, she prefers snorting heroin, or "heron" as Jimmy likes to pronounce it. Her mother lives at 24th and California on the city's SW Side. "I was there two day, slept my ass off."

"You and China must've been doing the nasty, I presume?"

A sly smile instantly appeared on Jimmy's face, "you know we was. She didn' want me comin' back down here and I said I didn't wanna come back down here, either."

"Then why did you come back down here?"

"I don' know no one there, they all Mexicans..."

"So you can't score."

"Right."

"So you did in fact want to come back down here so you could score."

Jimmy just giggled.

Our conversation ended abruptly when Tobi arrived . We had to leave for my Cousin Kate's funeral. It was in Evanston and the traffic was better than I expected , especially for that time of the day. The funeral (or more accurately, the Memorial Celebration ) took place at the Woman's Club and it was lucky we got there early because it was soon packed to overflowing. We sat next to the rest of my cousins. It was a remarkable send off. Her family and friends executed the ceremony with both class and style . Kate was an attractive, talented artist, and clearly had a devoted family. I've always been particularly fond of her son Cameron. I had only recently learned that she was ill and that made it even sadder .

This morning Tobi and I got up an hour earlier than usual and I put on my same funeral clothes from the day before because as soon as we were done with the bar we were driving Jay and Ruben Nine Toes with us to Matt's fathers funeral in Naperville. We allowed an hour to get there and needed every minute of it because getting Ruben Nine Toes in and out of a car takes forever. Fortunately, the weather was unseasonably sunny and warm and we made good time. Matt seemed pleased that we made the trip, I'd met his brother before and his mother was very nice, in fact everyone there was surprisingly up beat. Matt was very close to his dad and I know it had to be tough , not only his dad, but the entire family after going through a long , slow ordeal like pancreatic cancer. Matt assured us that we didn't need to stick around for the mass so when the mourners started heading into the church we took off.

As soon as Tobi directed me to Ogden Ave I pretty much knew where I was. I had grown up in nearby Downers Grove and Ogden Ave was always the main drag. Of course when I was a kid Naperville was just rich farmland, so rich Russian scientists used to visit to check out the unbelievebly thick deposits of black soil, in some places as deep as twenty feet. Now it's all covered with concrete and asphalt and wonder if some day they'll be tearing down houses to get at this valuable farmland.

At one point I pointed out to the gang where the cops had shot out the tires of a car I was riding in. I was just fourteen, and Jack Skoken had swiped him moms car and took six of his buddies on a joy ride , the purpose of which was ostensibly to pick up chicks, of course if this impossiblety had ever occurred there would have been no place to put this mutant female. A Naperville cop car saw us cruising through Downtown and when they tried to pull us over Jack took off. We were all fourteen and fifteen, so of course no one had a drivers license . They shot our tires out somewhere on Route Fifty Three. Naturally we made the local papers and I was grounded.

Before we left Naperville we stopped at a restaurant named Grandma Sally's and, with the exception of Tobi, who only ate a grapefruit, we all pigged out . After we dropped Tobi off in Hyde Park we headed back to the North Side . Ruben announced he was going to take a power nap as soon as he got home and I said that I, too, was in urgent need of a power nap. Jay said that sounded like a good idea to him, also.

I think I'll go down to the Art Institute when I wake up, because , as I pointed out last Thursday, it's late night , and therefore my favorite time to view the art.

Yesterday afternoon after I finished my walk I stopped by the bar and asked Tobi if she was hungry? She shrugged and said she could eat something so I suggested going to Topo Gigio. When we got there there weren't many diners but the staff seemed on full alert mode. As I studied the menu I said to Tobi , "they must be planning for a big party."

"It's Valentine's Day dummy."

Now this took me by surprise, however, I attempted to use my legendary skill as an adroit liar and answered quickly, "of course it is , I just mean a big Valentine's Day party. By the way, Happy Valentines Day."

Tobi couldn't avoid sneering at me with her trademark "who are you bullshitting" smirk, "you hate Valentines Day."

"Untrue , I just don't really give a flying fuck about it one way or the other."

When we got back to the bar Steve, from the hair salon down the street, mentioned that the bar moving into 33's former space was going to have a hundred and forty draft beers. This seemed extreme to me. Jay, who's owned several joints said that that many taps was a bad business move because when customers come in it's going to take them ten or fifteen minutes to choose a beer, plus, "it's going to drive the bartenders nuts trying to explain the various beers."

I announced that I was going to need another nap but that I would return later.

After a nice forty five minute nap I felt like my old self and headed back to the bar. As I passed Stop and Rob one of the street bums came up to me and said, "you hear about Street Jimmy?"

"No."

"They say he arrested."

"Who says?"

"Everyone."

"What for?"

"Tresspassin' ".

Now I take everything I hear on the street with a grain of salt, and the same goes for anything I hear in the bar because I know how the game is played, especially since no one enjoys spreading ridiculous rumors more than yours truly. For years I would tell Fox one preposterous story after another and watch him leave the bar to spread the latest rumor I concocted. However, it's not hard to imagine Jimmy getting busted , especially since he's been sleeping in a laundry room somewhere in the neighborhood. What lends credence to the rumor is that Jimmy hasn't been seen for a day or two.

Bridget Muhlimprov came in the bar dressed as a pirate. She had several young men with her , also dressed as pirates. She's an aspiring comic with very nice tits. I personally think she has a shot at making it, she's quirky, has a nice sense of humor, and a distinctive street accent. Hawkeye seems to like her and agrees with me that she might make it that business they call show.

This morning the line was long at Dunkin' Donuts. While I waiting for my croissant Faggypants whizzed by on his way to the bar. When I got out of the store Faggypants was a good half a block ahead of me. He has a very distinctive gait. He's slightly bow legged, and walks with his but noticeably tilted upward with long quick strides. When I followed him into the bar he said he was finally feeling fine. "I had a delicious meal at Flat Top Grill yesterday after I got done here." Faggypants thinks he might try and sneak into the Auto Show today. "I'm dying to see all of the new technology." He said that yesterday he saw the new Star Wars movie. "It was fantastic, just brilliant, I loved all of the special effects and the only member of the old cast was Spok. "The new actors were all young and they were wonderful."

I suggested to Faggypants that when he tries to sneak into the auto show he should check out where the deliveries are made .

"Well, if I can't sneak in I'll just pay. There must be a shuttle bus somewhere I can ride to McCormick Place?"

"Take the Brown Line to the Library and walk over , asshole, it's a beautiful day and it's a nice walk through the Museum Campus."

Faggypants became petulant , "it's long , and I don't feel like walking."

"You disgust me, Faggypants."

Last night I stopped by the bar around six to see how Tobi was doing. Gracie is in NY at the big dog show so Tobi is filling in for her daughter. The boys seemed to be fine so I announced that I was going to stretch out my sore leg and walk over to the lake, then to Oak St. and back through Rush St and then to Old Town. Usually it takes me a little less than an hour but with my gimpy leg it ended up taking me at least fifteen minutes longer. I couldn't have walked another block, and I hope I didn't over do it.

Street Jimmy came into the bar with some new black porno tapes. "The dude give me some more," he said placing them on the bar in front of me.

"Are they more fat girl porn?"

Jimmy shook his head , "uh, uh, they be slim girls this time."

The fifteen CD's he brought in last week had the fattest woman I'd ever seen. One would have to assume there's some kind of fat fetishists niche group out there, but realistically they have to be some really bizarre lads even by porno niche standards. D Train showed us some amputee porn on his lap top a couple of months ago and I thought that was extreme, but watching four and five hundred pound black ladies getting banged by skinny one hundred and fifty pound black and white men is definitely pushing the envelope. Jimmy was right, the new CD's were of normal sized black woman. After I told him that I didn't want to buy any of his CD's he sidled up to me and whispered in my ear, "you check out yer lottery numbers yet?"

"No, but if I'd have won the boys in the hardware store would know somebody from the street won . In fact, Hardware Joe would be doing cart wheels in the middle of North Ave right now because he'd automatically gets a cut. Why?"

"Cause you said if you won you'd give me a million."

Jimmy was right, the Power Ball was up to 360 million and I had promised Jimmy a million if I won.

"Why doncha check?"

My curiosity got the better of me so I removed the tickets Ruben Nine Toes and I had bought from under the cash register drawer and check out the numbers. Jimmy looked on with intense interest.

"Nothing , " I said tossing the losing tickets in a pile.

"Shit , " Jimmy said , unable to conceal his extreme disappointment, "I coulda really used that money."

"Me too, in fact, Jimmy, I really don't even need three hundred million , I could get by on fifty or sixty million if I really tried, actually, now that I think about it, I could almost keep the wolf from the door if I had ten million dollars."

At seven Tobi switched on the Westminster Dog show. D Train, Ruben , and a couple of strangers switched our attention to the strange, strange world of people with highly unusual body types running around a ring with equally unusual canine species. It didn't take long for us to get into the dog show. I didn't mince words disparaging the various coon hound breeds. I found them atavistic and not the least bit prepossessing. Ruben Nine Toes was rooting for a Beagle, probably because he'd once owned a Beagle named Madonna, and he adored Madonna. D Train seemed to like all of the dogs, while I particularly liked a very fluffy white one along with another fluffy one with two spots. None of us were pleased with the wire haired Daschound that won. I took an instant dislike to the overly large SS Officer looking woman who was judging the event. Gracies dog , Arthur will compete tomorrow.

Clown came silently into the bar shortly after the dog show was over. He was looking remarkably well scrubbed and well groomed considering his recent bender. Unable to conceal a self satisfied smirk when I asked him how he was, he answered, "I'm fine, how are you?"

"Peachy."

"I still have my job."

"Really."

"They love me."

This was good news. Clown is a computer whiz and his skills are highly in demand when he's functional.

This morning a somber Faggypants arrived at the bar right on time. He was wearing his no-nonsense heavy parka and said that he'd been violently ill all the way up to eleven o'clock last night and then he started to get better. I suggested that drinking on an empty stomach was something to be avoided in the future. He said he was going to Flat Top when he got done cleaning and get something to eat. When I told him about Street Jimmy wanting me to win the Lottery he said that if he won he'd invest his money wisely and devote a lot of his time to charity.

I was wondering if anyone out there could tell me if Ebert gave me another plug yesterday because I've gotten hundreds more hits than normal, and that usually happens after Roger mentions me. Thanks.

This morning an ashen faced Faggypants arrived at the bar. He moaned that he had horrible stomach flu and that he'd had to get off of the train twice to throw up and that he'd thrown up again just outside the bar. He looked awful and was shaking noticeably. I told him to lie down on one of the benches and rolled up my winter vest for him to use as a pillow. He was in such bad shape that I refrained from telling him that I was sure his illness was the result of drinking - I'll save that for when he's better - but I did ask if he'd eaten anything. The only response he made to my question was a series of deep moaning sounds. Street Jimmy arrived shortly after Faggypants had collapsed shivering on the bench.

"Wha's a matter wit Faggypants?"

"He's sick as hell."

Jimmy walked over to where Faggypants was laying and stared down at him for a moment. "Faggypants , you look like shit. Damn, you fucked to hell up, boy."

Faggypants continued to moan.

"Ya'll wants me to clean up today?"

"I might. In the meantime sit down and be quiet." Of course Jimmy needed some BBQ chips and then when he noticed me drinking my Tetley Tea he wanted some of that , too. He gave a couple of damn, tha's goods after I poured him his tea. "I likes the way you puts plenty of sugar in it."

I reminded Jimmy that up until then he had not said one please or thank you.

"Damn, I jus' forgets. Please and thankyou very much, " and then grabbing his heart for emphasis said, "from my heart I thank you."

"It doesn't count when I have to tell you all the time."

Jimmy said he'd slept in the laundry room again last night.

"You've figured out how to work the heat, I presume?"

"Sure have, jus' press the button and it be plenty warm. Guy woke me up jus' now. He be checkin' the meter. When he see me he say I'm just reading the meter and I tol' him jus' go on wit' your bizness."

Faggypants made several attempts to get up and to start cleaning but it was hopeless. "I'm dizzy, I feel like I'm going to feint, and I feel horrible chills."

I told him to lay back down and then I called Tobi and told her that we needed to get Faggypants back home because he was too sick to clean. She arrived at the bar ten minutes later. She told Faggypants that it would take her longer , because it was rush hour, to drive him all the way to his mothers house in the suburbs than if she drove him downtown to State and Lake so he could take the El home. Faggypants agreed and said he'd call his mother and have her pick him up at the station. Before he left I gave him some money in case he needed a cab.

Street Jimmy watched the events concerning Faggypants unfold without the slightest hint of compassion. After Faggypants got into Tobi's car Jimmy said, "I be lucky I don' get sick like most folks do."

I agreed, "if you did you'd be one dead street person, you've got to have a helluva constitution to live on the street. It's no place for week kneed pussy's."

Jimmy nodded , "sure ain't. I gots the good lord to thank, tha's for sure."

"So does Faggypants have the good lord to thank for being sick?"

"That ain't how it works. The good lord be good, not bad."

"Then how come he gives little kids cancer, if he's so good?"

Jimmy chose not to answer my question. Jimmy and I gave the bar a light cleaning. We didn't even bother with the mopping. Luckily the bar was already pretty clean even though it had been a decent night. Tobi's working for Gracie today because Gracies in NY at the dog show. Whatever Jimmy and I missed while cleaning the bar, I'm sure she'll catch. When we finished I gave Jimmy enough for a rock and he seemed delighted.

Late yesterday morning, just after I had tucked my chin under my warm comforter and was about to embark on a badly needed nap , the phone rang. It was Anya calling from the bar. "Mrs Clown just called and she wants you to call her immediately, she says it's urgent and she's crying."

This is not information that I wanted to hear, however, being a closet humanitarian I pulled myself together and called Mrs Clown. She was hysterical. She was sure the Clown was dead. He wasn't answering his phone, and, she insisted, he had not been heard from in three days . I tried to persuade her that Clown was just drunk and passed out and there was no need for alarm. She wasn't buying it, "Bruce, he's dead, I just know it, and I"m afraid to go there and find him by myself."

I grudgingly agreed to meet her at the bar in twenty minutes and accompany her to the Clowns hotel. So there I was , out of my nice warm bed and back outside in the bitter cold. I tried to envision what it would be like finding Clown dead in a seedy hotel room as I made my way down North Ave. As I continued walking it brought back memories of other similar missions of mercy I'd made over the years, most of which were into some truly horrible SRO hotels . The worst one of these missions was when an old high school friend called me from Berkeley and asked me to check on his dad, Blacky, who was an old iron worker and who had a notorious drinking problem. He was living in a horrible slum back in the early sixties located on what was then the Clark Street skidrow just south of Chicago Ave. The desk clerk gave me two rubber bands to put around my pants legs to keep the roaches from crawling up my legs. The rooms were divided by chicken wire and the smell was beyond anything I had up to then experienced. Drunken men were laying on filthy mats snoring and moaning. Blacky was lying on a soiled mat fully clothed surrounded by empty black berry brandy bottles. A nice old black man helped me get Blacky onto his feet and then down the stairs and into a cab. The emergency room doctor at the old Henroten Hospital had to put Blacky into restraints because his DT's were so bad.

Mrs Clown was waiting for me at the bar. "I hate to bother you , but I really think something bad has happened."

As we walked east on North Ave who should be walking straight toward us but Street Jimmy. "Hey, wha's up."

"Mrs Clown thinks Clown is dead so we're going over to his hotel and find out."

"Clown, dead?" It took Jimmy a moment to digest this information. "No shit."

"Clowns already had a bunch of heart attacks so maybe he is."

As Jimmy , Mrs Clown and I turned at the corner of LaSalle St. I asked Jimmy if he'd ever come across a dead body in his travels.

"A few times but I gets the hell outa there as fast as I can when I do."

"How come?"

"I don' wan' no murder pinned on me."

The front desk area of the hotel was certainly gloomy, but not horrible. There was a small , poorly lit lobby to the side of the front desk. The clerk was a fairly tall, slender sallow faced man in his thirties. He said only two of us could go up to Clowns room at a time so I told Jimmy to sit down in the lobby. Also, I had to leave my drivers license. The elevator was ancient, and it was tricky getting it even with the floor. The room Mrs Clown directed me toward was down a really long corridor . When we reached the door I paused, put my ear against it, and listened for some sign of life. I could hear nothing so I started beating on the door and hollering Clown. After a couple of minutes Mrs Clown said we should go back downstairs and ask the clerk for the key. I insisted that we take the stairs back down. After she told the clerk she thought Clown was dead it didn't take much persuading from Mrs Clown to get the desk clerk to lock up his cage and take us back upstairs . While we were in the elevator the clerk said that it was not uncommon to find dead bodies in the rooms and it was always better to have a friend or family member present on these occasions. It was soon apparent that the desk clerk was leading us down another hallway to another room. Mrs Clown had gotten the room numbers mixed up. So once again I pounded on the new door and shouted Clown. This time the door quickly opened and a very pale, slightly shaky Clown said to me, "I'm alright." I noticed that there was some type of troubling crust around his bloodless lips as he spoke to me.

The desk clerk and I immediately retreated back to the elevator. Mrs Clown stayed at Clowns door and I could hear her knocking on the once again closed door yelling Clowns name. I thanked the clerk and motioned for Jimmy to follow me back to the bar.

"Clown alive?"

"Yeah, he's just hungover. He really looks like shit."

When we got back to the bar I had Anya give Jimmy a beer for being part of our support group. Mrs Clown joined us in about fifteen minutes. She didn't seem as relieved as I thought she might have been expected to be, in fact she almost seemed a tiny bit disappointed . We discussed Clown for awhile, much to the entertainment of a few nearby by bar flies. Mrs Clown is convinced that Clown is madly in love with the lovely Becca. I told her that Clown was only using Becca to make her, Mrs. Clown jealous. "Becca's new in town and she's just nice to everyone. She has no interest in stealing Clown from you. And remember, you haven't always been that wonderful to Clown. You've gone out of your way to try and make Clown jealous of you with those cretins you hang around with at Bennigans. "

"I have not," Mrs Clown said defensively.

"And when Clowns trying to dry out you've gotten shitfaced many a time. It's a two way street."

Jimmy told Mrs Clown that he was sure the Clown loved her very much. "I can tell. He be crazy about you."

Mrs Clowns eyes softened and a few more tears welled up in the corners, "do you think so, Jimmy?"

"I knows so, I can tell."

I nodded, "Clowns nuts about you, you just need to treat him better."

By now I was exhausted and announced that I was going home for my much needed nap.

After I woke up I read the NY Times and watched a little of the golf tournament on TV. I like watching golf in the winter. It reminds me of summer. Tobi made lobster, asparagus and some kind of neat potato dish. I wish she'd cook more. It was delicious. To top it off she baked some fantastic chocolate chip cookies. I returned to the bar around six. It was packed. Ruben Nine Toes said it had been busy all afternoon. Becca was sitting between officer Bill and Ruben . She looked great. Ruben nudged me and pointed down the bar to where Clown was sitting.

"Oh boy, any drama?"

Ruben shook his head negatively.

It's been taking me longer and longer to get my sore leg into a comfortable position while sitting on a bar stool. It seems that the better my bad leg feels for walking and standing the worse it feels while sitting on a bar stool. I find this curious. About thirty minutes after I'd sat down Mrs Clown walked in the door and sat down on the bar stool next to me which Ruben had just vacated. Becca had gone out to smoke and Officer Bill and I exchanged knowing glances. No sooner had Mrs Clown noticed that Clown was sitting down the at the other end of the bar , than Becca came back in and sat down on her stool, which was next to Mrs Clown. Once they each realized who they were sitting next to there was an awkward pause before Becca leaned forward and introduced herself to Mrs Clown. Not only was I not able hear much of their ensuing conversation, but I made it a point to not even try. What I did pick up was that Clown was being slowly and systematically disemboweled . Knowing Clown as I do, I think this would be okay with him. Clown thrives on attention, and even this seriously negative attention was probably acceptable.

At some point Mrs Clown turned to me and asked if I thought she should go down and talk to Clown. I told her that I thought it would be a nice thing to do. "After all Clown is human, he has feelings." Eventually she did get up only to return seconds later. "He's gone."

"Really."

The bartender, Johnny Ale ,said that Clown had snuck out the back door the minute he'd seen Mrs Clown come in and sit down next to Becca. Johhny Ale said that Clown's departing words were , "I may be brave, but I'm not Superman."

Eventually Becca said goodbye, and shortly after that Mrs Clown, after polishing off her third Johnny Walker Black, gave me another hug and a kiss and also left. I was worn out by now so I had a final beer , then waved goodbye to everyone and went home to rest.

This morning Faggpants was not only late but drunk . Rather than yell at him I just told him to shut up and clean. I wasn't up to another screaming match, however, I just hope this is not a pattern.

Last night I braved the snow and went down to the bar around five. It was almost empty when I first arrived, although people started coming in around six. Ruben Nine Toes was unusually ill-tempered. Every time someone walked in the front door Ruben was hit with a blast of cold air which seemed to make him progressively more truculent. Coach, who wears shorts most of the winter, in a concession to the arctic weather, was wearing long pants. Mrs Clown came into the bar just before I left. She is seriously pissed off at Clown, and it's hard to blame her. When Clown goes off the deep end, he doesn't kid around. He seems to take a perverse pleasure in creating chaos among his closet friends . Gracie left early yesterday morning for the Westminster Dog show in NY. Tobi came back from Vegas at around ten last night. My leg seems better.

This morning I saw Street Jimmy in front of Stop and Rob begging for spare change. He seemed chipper in spite of the bitter cold. When I asked him why he wasn't shoveling snow yesterday he simply shrugged off my question.

Faggypants was bundled up in a parka when he arrived. He didn't seem to have any plans for the rest of the day. Street Jimmy knocked on the door around nine thirty. I asked him what was going on yesterday with the two crack whores fighting at North and Wells?

"The white lady , her name is Alice, she be mad as hell 'cause the black girl stole hundred dollar from her."

"Dope deal?"

Jimmy nodded, "yeah, and the white lady is tough, I seen her fight before, and the black lady seemed scared of her , maybe she jus' didn' want no trouble with the police but she backed down and took off."

"I like the way you didn't interfere , you just stood there like a bump on a log."

"I didn' know what was goin' on at the time. Alice give me seven dollar afterward. She say her husband bought her a motorcycle.I knows her husband."

"Is he black or white?"

"He white. He okay."

Jimmy didn't seem eager to go back out into the cold, but when he realized that he wasn't going to get anything in the bar he bundled up and left.

I'm very tired, I keep waking up at four and can't seem to get back to sleep. I definitely need a nap.

Yesterday afternoon I decided to test out my leg and go to the Art Institute. Thursday is late night and so I was in no rush to get there. I got off the Purple Line Express at Randolph Street and walked through Millenium Park. In the winter when you need to check your coat the entrance to the new modern wing is much less crowded than the Michigan Ave entrance. I love the new bronze sculpture in the hallway. It's of a strange looking , robed, apparently armless man , about twenty feet in height, by a German named Thomas Schutte. It has the feel of that post war German institutional architecture. It's a marvelous addition.

The new wing of African and Art of the Americas is stunning. It's hard to imagine that a lot of these amazing works were done 400 to 500 BC. In the African section there are some works that were done as late as the 20th Century. It's easy to see how artists like Modigliani and Picasso were influenced by these ancient African artists. You have to walk through the Japanese and Chinese Galleries to get to the African and Art of The Americas galleries and they are equally interesting. I particularly like the great Chinese painted ceramics and the Japanese drawings.

When I was walking through the Impressionist Wing I set off a sensor alarm as I was bending over to read the information about the Gaugain painted chest. A female security guard rushed over to warn me not to lean beyond the rope. With my bad leg this presented a bit of a problem. One nice consolation about having to take it easy is that I sat down a lot on the various benches and thereby had time to look at some of the paintings much longer than I normally do. I must have spent twenty minutes staring at three Gaugain Tahiti paintings. I still remember the exhibition the Art Institue had of Gaugain in 1960. I must have seen it at least twenty times.

On my way home I thought I'd try to see how far I could walk. Upon reaching the river I decided that it would be madness to over due it and so I walked over to the Merchandise Mart and took the El the rest of the way home.

When I reached the bar I was tired but none the worse for wear. Ruben Nine Toes, Coach, Jay and Alphonso were sitting in the corner so I joined them. When Street Jimmy wandered in he said he'd been at the Mustard Seed which is the AA Chapter down the street .

"Did you say anything at the meeting?"

Jimmy shook his head, "same thing I always say, I'm Jimmy, I'm an addict, I ain't ready to quit but I comes here so maybe I be hearin' somethin' that will help me quit. I slept most of the time. Say, can I get a cold beer, please."

"You have any money?"

"Uh uh."

"Does the crack dealer give you free crack?"

"Uh, uh."

"So why should we?"

Jimmy decided to go back on the street and hustle.

When Faggypants arrived he was wearing a pair of skin tight copper and gold colored pants that were even by Faggypants standards, startling. He said that all the way to the train station his mother kept repeating to him that she would not be picking him up because she refuses to drive in the snow. "So when she lets me out of the car she rolls down her window and screams 'remember, don't call me!' and there were a group of black men standing there and they all stared at me."

"If I was you I would have stuck my tongue out at her."

Faggypants liked that idea and giggled. "I'm not going to wear really nice clothes on the El anymore because people stare at me funny."

On my way to the Fruit store to buy lemons and limes I saw street Jimmy on the corner of Wells and North. He was staring at two crack whores, one black and one hillbilly , fighting. The white crack whore was definitely getting the best of the black crack whore. What made the scene so compelling was the total absence of any type of expression on Jimmy's face. Here you have two woman screaming and flailing at each other and a man two feet away, motionless, staring, totally neutral. I can't wait to hear what it was all about.

Last night Mary B. was in the bar when I got there. She told me she'd just had a nose job and had been convalescing at her mothers place in the Dunes. When I asked her why she didn't call me she showed me some pictures that she'd taken of herself after her operation. She looked like she'd just done ten rounds with Mike Tyson. She still has a slight shiner below her right eye. I told her that she looked terrific with her new nose. Clown was sitting in the window doing something on his computer. Clown has been behaving like a little kid who likes to play with matches. He's publicly taunting Mrs Clown on FB ; now Mrs Clown is used to Clown's antics, but Clown has brought Becca into his melodrama which I find disturbing. Everybody in the bar loves Becca, not only is she hot, but she's lots of fun and I told Clown we don't want to lose Becca just because he's being a goof ball. Clown assured me Becca was a good sport and wouldn't avoid the bar.

Street Jimmy wandered into the bar around seven. Lucky for him no sooner had he sat down next to me than four people walked out of the bar leaving three almost full Heinekens and one half full one. Gracie grudgingly gave them to Jimmy along with a bag of BBQ chips. Now Jimmy has shown in the past that he can't handle alcohol any better than he can handle crack. After the first beer he started yucking it up and soon he was making fun of Ruben Nine Toes. Ruben gave as good as he got, but Jimmy is immune to insults, especially when he's shit faced. At some point I mentioned to Jimmy that Ruben maybe fat, and have almost no dick, but he did do more time in prison than Jimmy. Jimmy demanded to know which cell block Ruben was on in Stateville? Ruben said he couldn't remember. Jimmy insisted that this was proof that Ruben hadn't done six and a half years. I assured Jimmy that he had. Finally Ruben's Pace car came and I told Jimmy to finish his beers and leave. Hawkeye thanked me for letting Jimmy get drunk, "I'm going to be stuck with him all night, now." I told Hawkeye I was sorry.

I woke up again at four in the morning. It's becoming a definite pattern. Fortunately there always seems to be something really good on Public TV at four. Last night it was a show about Ben Franklin and Emerson. When I woke up again at seven I felt crappy.

Faggypants was late this morning. He said that when he was at the station waiting for his Brown Line train he smelled smoke, "I told the two cops standing there I smelled smoke, one of the cops, the man, said he smelled smoke too. A little kid was standing there and he put his hands over his mouth and said, 'I can't breathe'. The lady cop told the kid not to worry. Sure enough the train pulled up and they made everyone get off of the train . "

"What was it?"

"Just some oil burning, no big whoop."

Faggypants said that he went back to his new favorite place yesterday, The Chicago Cultural Center. "I wanted to see the new remodeling plans for Navy Pier. So I asked the guy at the information where they were it was and he said he didn't know, so then I asked the lady at the visitors center and she looked in her computer and she said she couldn't find it , either, and so when I was leaving at the other end of the building there they were in the lobby and they were really big . They're great, all of them, so I was so angry I went back and told the man and woman where they were."

"Did you scream at them."

"Kind of ."

Faggypants has to help one of his twink friends move today. Gracie also needs him to help her get the car ready for her trip tomorrow to the Westminster Dog Show. What a waste of money. Sometimes I just want fall on the floor and cry.

I'm now home and intend to take a nap and then later I'll go to the Art Institute. Thursdays are my favorite day to go there because at five it's free so if you get there around three nobody's there because they're all waiting for five o' clock.

Last night Street Jimmy came into the bar looking for his Fat Black Girl Porno CD's.

"I paid you for them."

"I jus' want a couple of 'em."

"I thought you said you didn't like huge, fat woman?"

"I don', I jus' likes seein' 'em."

"How can you see them, you've got no CD player. You're homeless."

Jimmy shrugged and said nothing.

Ruben Nine Toes seems to be in more pain than usual. He had a hard time getting into the Pace Car when he left. The beak on the Ale House Goose has been partially broken off. Street Jimmy claims he knows who the culprit is.

"Who?"

"Nigger took it an' I chased him down the street and got it back."

"Horseshit, no black guy is going to carry an eighty pound goose a half a block toward Wells Street just for the helluva it."

Jimmy insisted he wasn't lying.

Fatal Attraction showed up. Gracie had warned me that she was in the neighborhood. She goes off the wagon about three or four times a year. You have to be careful around her because she can snap at any moment and then she often becomes violent. She's punched me dozens of times over the years. She hits pretty hard, but I alway counter punch to the muscles on her arms. She seems to enjoy that immensely. She didn't make as big a fuss about Fox as I thought she would . She said she couldn't bring herself to write him and tell him goodbye, but that maybe she'd call him. Fortunately, after I cut her off she left peacefully.

When I got home I watched the election results. I must admit I was stunned to see Frothy Santorum win all three primaries. The hatred among Republicans for Romney is visceral. The more you see him the more you hate him. There's not an authentic bone in his body. Frothy looks like a kid in his dads suit. If he's going to get anywhere he's going to have to lose that constipated grimace. I'm really hooked on the GOP primaries. I'm sure Mitt's going to win, but at what price? Newt looks dead, but he's risen from the grave before, and he's got some KKK Southern states coming up in a few weeks.

This morning when I got to the bar Faggypants was already cleaning. He says yesterday was the one year anniversary of his taking over the cleaning chores. It doesn't seem that long. He certainly does a great job. He said his mother hasn't driven him to the train for the last two days because he refused to watch Little House on the Prairie with her. "I told her I wanted to listen to my music, so now she's punishing me." This elicited a hearty laugh from Faggypants.

Street Jimmy showed up about a half an hour later. He said he'd slept in a laundryroom on Sedgwick. "The janitor jus' wokes me up. He showed me where the heat button was. "

"You idiot, you mean you could've been warm all night."

"Sure could've."

Before Jimmy got up to leave for the church to catch a little more sleep he announced, "I'm goin' to gets me a real job."

Faggypants told him that he wasn't going to get any kind of job until he quit crack.

"You'll see," Jimmy said defiantly as he walked out the door.

After I finished reading the papers I told Faggypants I was going over to Treasure Island to get something to eat and then I was going home. "You want anything?"

Faggypants shook his head, "no thanks, I think I'll just sit here for a little while and have a couple more pops."