The Windy City Blues
Day 8 of Tour
The days on the road run together like colors in an ill-used washing machine. Yesterday we woke up in a campground in the middle of nowhere Southern Indiana, packed up camp, hugged our friends and hosts, and then drove for 15 miles before finding the next little town.
We headed north to Chicago, through Indianapolis and past the Indianapolis Motor Speedway where apparently there’s some big race this weekend.
It was only a four hour drive, and then there we were in Chicago traffic, and despite that traffic, Chicago remains one of my favorite cities to visit. It’s a blue collar town that’s home to some of the most significant labor moments in world history. It’s a diverse city mixed in with a lot of different cultures. They have one of the most magnificent art scenes in the country and an art museum that’s been ranked as the best in the world. There’s beaches and a Great Lake to explore.
I don’t ever want to live here, there’s too many people, but fuck do I love visiting. Chicago is a city that’s alive. It has a heart beat. You can feel its energy as soon as you’re here. I’ve been visiting my whole life and I hope that never stops.
We got into town and had to rush to get over to The Gallery Cabaret for a 5pm show hosted by incredible local writer Westley Heine.
The Gallery Cabaret is in Chicago’s Northwest area, in the old Bucktown neighborhood, next to Wicker Park, and those two neighborhoods together are known for live music, quirky shops, legendary night clubs, and foodie restaurants. The Gallery Cabaret is a community based art center and bar. They have live music, comedy and open mics, seven nights a week, and they have different artists work hanging on their walls every month. It’s an incredible space. I read here once before, near Halloween, a year and a half ago.
Westley Heine, my friend and colleague and the host, has a new book out called “Cloud Watching in the Inferno” from Roadside Press, and you should probably get a copy. I think he’s one of the best writers in the country right now, not just in the small press.
Jess and I got there about 30 minutes before show time and Scott Laudati walked out of the building, surprising hell out of me. Scott, a union dockworker by trade, is a hell of a novelist, painter, poet and songwriter, and normally resides in New Jersey. He’d taken a 19 hour train ride to meet up with the Vagabond Tour, and didn’t know I would be there either. The best kinds of surprises. So goes the road. You never know who you’ll run into when you’re out here.
Louisville poet Rita Spalding joined us last night, too. She read with us in the cave in Indiana and joined the tour for its Chicago run. And Ezhno Martin from Columbus, OH met up with us, too. So our Vagabond lineup was set to be Mark Lipman, Damian Rucci, Alex Ragsdale, and Scott Laudati from New Jersey, Jeremiah Walton from New Hampshire, Rita Spalding from Louisville, Ezhno from C’bus, and me and Jess.
Wes delivered the news that National Beat Poet Laureate Mark Lipman and his Vagabond Bus, Furtherer, was involved in a fender bender in Chinatown, and was now lost in South Chicago, on the other side of town. Wes gave him directions. He would be late. The crowd was gathering. The other poets were there. The show must go on.
I told Wes to sign me up wherever he needed me, and he put me down first to start off the whole night. At this point the bar was damn near standing room only, and with a long list of open mic sign ups, we all just had five minutes to read. I did two poems. That went alright. And we were off into the night, sneaking check ins on our mad genius tour captain, our poet brother Mark Lipman.
The Gallery Cabaret has a lot of NA bar options by the way, something I love seeing more and more as I travel the country. For years I’ve been the guy drinking a Coke at the bar, or a cranberry juice and redbull if they had it, but it’s nice to ask, “what are your NA options?” And be greeted with warm reception most times instead of the “what the fuck is wrong with you look” that bars used to give us non drinkers years ago. I enjoyed a THC seltzer and a Heineken 0 throughout the night.
And talk about a night. An open mic in Chicago is not an open mic in Toledo, and is not an open mic in your town either, probably. The talent on display was everything from newer spoken word artist to veteran slam competitor, and the night was electric.
Wes Heine has built a good scene here. He’s worked hard at it every month for two years, last night was the two year anniversary of his open mic show, and I know a little of how hard he’s worked at it because I’ve had the honor of visiting and reading in the Chicago poetry scene a handful of times before, and he and I have talked often about our art and work and how to hustle it and get it out there better. He keeps the show fun. There’s always music from Guitar Mike to accompany you. The crowd, made up of a beautiful diorama of different humans, is attentive, encouraging and inclusive. It’s one of the best poetry readings in the Midwest.
A few poets in and we got an update that brother Mark Lipman was still on the way. He was ok, and would be there soon. The night went on. The local Chicago poets showed up and showed out. If you’re looking for labor poets and working class writers that wear their blue collars proudly, you’ll find them in Chicago. I meet more of them here on each visit.
When Mark finally showed, the show kicked into high gear. He set up all the remaining touring poets in order, and had them introduce each other after their short sets, setting off an hour of continuous poetry and music that was raucous, good, and good fun. Even good fun just seems bigger somehow, when you’re in Chicago, in a bar packed with poets, on a Saturday night.
After show, we viewed the damage on Mark’s bus, and he’s going to need some repairs and it’s a holiday weekend. And the New Jersey poetry renaissance is in emergency need of suspension repair on their car, too. These guys, Lipman, Rucci and Ragsdale, have been on the road for 23 days or so, and are supposed to be in Sioux City, SD tomorrow night, but it sounds like they’ll have to wait for repairs and might miss one show. We’ll see.
After the show and camaraderie, Jess and I found a Portillo’s. She’d never been, and it is a Chicago staple. A local legend. Probably the best Chicago dogs in town, and a pretty famous Italian beef, too. How famous is Portillo’s? They make Pope Leo’s favorite cake, and mine, too, but they don’t brag about that on their menu board.
Like always, like the 28 other times I’ve been to a Portillo’s, it was better than good, and Jess is a fan now, too.
We head out soon to a beachside picnic and BBQ on Lake Michigan. Some of the local Chicago poets put this together to host the Vagabond Poets. We started this tour by reading outside the sixth oldest cemetery in New Orleans and get to end it by reading, eating and fellowshipping on a beach in Chicago.
Send good vibes for our fellow poets, for good outcomes to insurance related things and cheap repairs for Mark and his bus, and for the New Jersey poetry renaissance to get their car safe to go 75 MPH and back out on the highways. Their tour goes 65 days and all the way to Los Angeles, so they could use some traveling grace and mercy.
This is the last day on tour for Jess and I. One more day of poetry adventure on the road. Thanks for all of your support, donations, book buys, and gofundme help friends, and thanks for following along on this journey. I wouldn’t be here today, doing what I love, if it wasn’t for you all. I love you. Namaste.
Love,
Dan
Ps. I’ve got some chapbooks, post cards and thank yous to mail out Tuesday. If you’d like to get a copy of the new chapbook, or send a little poetry tour love:
PayPal @dandenton1978
CashApp $dandentonpoet
Venmo @DanDenton78 (Last four of phone 8060)
Awesome adventure, Dan. Thanks for all of the updates.