CCLaP Weekender From the Chicago Center for Literature and Photography
May 16, 2014
New fiction by Thomas Simmons Photography by Tiberio Frascari Chicago literary events calendar May 16, 2014 | 1
THIS WEEK’S CHICAG
For all events, visit [cclapce FRIDAY, MAY 16
12pm Lea Carpenter 57th Street Books / 1301 E. 57th / Free semcoop.com The cutting-edge historian reads from his new book, The Devil's Snake Curve. 6pm Josh Ostergaard 57th Street Books / 1301 E. 57th / Free semcoop.com The cutting-edge historian reads from his new book, The Devil's Snake Curve. 7pm Fifth Wednesday Journal release party The Book Cellar / 4736 N. Lincoln / Free bookcellarinc.com The literary journal celebrates its new issue. Featuring free wine, coffee and soft drinks. 7pm Yurly Tarnawsky Quimby's Bookstore / 1854 W. North / Free quimbys.com The Ukrainian-American author reads from the new book of his "Placebo Effect" trilogy, View of Delft. 7:30pm Bruce Miller with Steve Yates and Bruce White Women & Children First / 5233 N. Clark / Free womenandchildrenfirst.com Editor Bruce Miller discusses his new nonfiction book, Curiosity's Cats, with contributors Steve Yates and Bruce White on hand to perform. 7:30pm The Funny Story Show Looseleaf Lounge / 2915 N. Broadway / $5 facebook.com/thefunnystoryshow Six local comedians tell autobiographical stories. 2 | CCLaP Weekender
GO LITERARY EVENTS
enter.com/chicagocalendar] SATURDAY, MAY 17
2pm Heather Ross Sulzer Public Library / 4455 N. Lincoln / Free chipublib.org The famed illustrator and fabric designer reads from her new memoir, How to Catch a Frog. Those who purchase a book at this event will receive a free limited-edition print as well. 3pm Steven D. Leavitt and Stephen J. Dubner Logan Center for the Arts / 915 E. 60th / $30 semcoop.com The authors of Freakonomics read from their creativity and inspiration book, Think Like a Freak. 4pm 5th Annual Librarian Pub Crawl The Book Cellar / 4736 N. Lincoln / $5, 21+ bookcellarinc.com Join this collective of librarians for their annual fundraiser for Open Books. Event starts at the Book Cellar at 4pm, then travels by foot to five different pubs in the Lincoln Square neighborhood. Participants are strongly encouraged to dress like a famous literary character, with prizes given at the end of the night. 6pm Three Writers Walk Into a Bar Jimmy's Woodlawn Tap / 1172 E. 55th / Free, 21+ bookcellarinc.com Three writers from the Hyde Park/Woodlawn area (Giano Cromley, Kate Hannigan, and Joseph G. Peterson) take over the backroom of the notorious University of Chicago hangout. 7pm Edie Fake Quimby's Bookstore / 1854 W. North / Free quimbys.com The artist and zinester reads from his new book, Memory Palaces.
May 16, 2014 | 3
8pm Looking for Love Flat Iron Arts Building / 1579 N. Milwaukee / $5 quimbys.com Marc Smith and Carolyn Hoerdemann host this "literary dating show."
SUNDAY, MAY 18 4pm
The Marble Room Reading Series XII The Parlor / 1434 N. Western / $5 Facebook (search on "The Parlor Chicago") This month's Marble Room reading features Peggy Shinner, Lindsay Hunter, Mark Magoon, and Susan Scanlon. Hosted by Timothy Moore and Olivia Lilley. $5 at the door gets you free wine and snacks.
4pm Mary Pinard Seminary Co-op Bookstore / 5751 S. Woodlawn / Free semcoop.com The author reads from her new story collection, Portal. 7pm Uptown Poetry Slam The Green Mill / 4802 N. Broadway / $7, 21+ slampapi.com International birthplace of the poetry slam. Hosted by Marc Smith. 7pm Sunday Salon Chicago Black Rock / 3614 N. Damen / Free sundaysalon.com This month's reading features Paulette Livers, Edward Kelsey Moore, Phong Nguyen, and Randy Richardson.
MONDAY, MAY 19 6pm Dr. Richard Saul Harold Washington Public Library / 400 S. State / Free chipublib.org The noted local physician discusses his new book, ADHD Does Not Exist: The Truth About Attention Deficit and Hyperactivity Disorder. Held in the library's Cindy Pritzker Auditorium.
4 | CCLaP Weekender
7pm Essay Fiesta! The Book Cellar / 4736 N. Lincoln / Free essayfiesta.com Celebrate the 186th anniversary of the 1828 Tariff Law with performers Dana Norris, Nathaalie Lagerfeld, Jamie Black, Jeremy Owens, and Jill Howe. Hosted by Karen Shimmin and Willy Nast. As always, this doubles as a fundraiser for the local literary organization 826CHI. 8:30pm Open Mic Kafein Espresso Bar / 1621 Chicago Ave., Evanston kafeincoffee.com Open mic with hosts chris and Kirill.
TUESDAY, MAY 20 6pm Dr. Harvey Young Harold Washington Public Library / 400 S. State / Free chipublib.org The co-author of Black Theater is Black Life: An Oral History of Chicago Theater and Dance, 1970-2010 leads a discussion panel featuring Sydney Chatman, Joel Hall, Kemati Porter and Chuck Smith. Presented in partnership with the Goodman Theatre, in the library's Cindy Pritzker Auditorium. 7pm The Open Door Reading Series Poetry Foundation / 61 W. Superior / Free poetryfoundation.org This month's reading features Robert Archambeau, Steve Halle, and John Matthias. 7:30pm Homolatte Tweet Let's Eat / 5020 N. Sheridan / Free homolatte.com This month's show features Nic Kay and Desiree Galeski. Hosted by Scott Free. Enter through Big Chicks at the same address.
May 16, 2014 | 5
WEDNESDAY, MAY 21 12:30pm Poetry Off The Shelf: Joshua Beckman Poetry Foundation / 61 W. Superior / Free poetryfoundation.org The New York poet reads from his newest work at this special lunchtime event. 6pm Ina Pinkney Harold Washington Public Library / 400 S. State / Free chipublib.org The restauranteur reads from her newest book, Taste Memories: Recipes for Life and Breakfast, in disucssion with journalist Noeleen McGrath. 6pm James Heckman Seminary Co-op Bookstore / 5751 S. Woodlawn / Free semcoop.com The academe reads from his newest book, The Myth of Achievement Tests: The GED and the Role of Character in American Life. 7pm Local Author's Night The Book Cellar / 4736 N. Lincoln / Free bookcellarinc.com This month's edition of the popular reading series features Lynne Raimondo, Kathleen Rooney, Eric Charles May, and Kodi Scheer. 9pm
In One Ear Heartland Cafe / 7000 N. Glenwood / $3, 18+ Facebook (search for "In One Ear") Chicago's 3rd longest-running open-mic show, hosted by Pete Wolf and Billy Tuggle.
THURSDAY, MAY 22 11:30am Evan Osnos Union League Club / 64 W. Jackson / $35 ulcc.org The international journalist discusses his new book, Age of Ambition: Chasing Fortune, Truth, and Faith in the New China. Held in conjunction with The Book Stall at Chestnut Court. RSVP to books@ thebookstall.com. 6 | CCLaP Weekender
1pm Literature For All Of Us year-end bash Poetry Foundation / 61 W. Superior / Free poetryfoundation.org Join this youth-oriented poetry organization as they celebrate the end of the school year and the release of their newest anthology. 7:30pm Patricia Skalka Women & Children First / 5233 N. Clark / Free womenandchildrenfirst.com The local author reads from her new thriller, Death Stalks Door County. 8pm I Shit You Not! Township / 2200 N. California / $5, 21+ ishityounotshow.com Local comedians and monologists share personal stories of inadvertent defecation. Hosted by Michael Sanchez and Monte LeMonte.
To submit your own literary event, or to correct the information on anything you see here, please drop us a line at cclapcenter@gmail.com.
May 16, 2014 | 7
ORIGINAL FICTION
Photos: Feans [flickr.com/endogamia] and Paul Bica [flickr.com/dexxus] Used under the terms of their Creative Commons licenses
HOMELESS AND THE M 8 | CCLaP Weekender
Homeless woke up from his spot under the only bridge in and out of town. He yawned, smacked his lips, and stretched his arms far over his head. He walked over to the nearby river to wash his hair and face when he felt his stomach grumble. It was time to eat. “Well, better now than never,” he thought, and he cleaned up his spot under the only bridge in and out of town, found his small tin mug, and started his day.
MAN IN THE MONOCLE A CHILDREN’S STORY FOR GROWN-UPS
THOMAS SIMMONS May 16, 2014 | 9
It was a fresh spring morning, and though Homeless was hungry, he enjoyed the sun on his head and the breeze on his back. It was three miles before the houses and the stores and the paved roads and traffic lights began materializing on either side of him, so it was a very nice and leisurely stroll and he took his time. When he arrived it was noon. Workers on their lunch breaks congested the sidewalks and streets. They talked on phones and wore business suits and ate sandwiches and looked unapproachable, but Homeless had done this kind of thing many times and was not afraid. In fact, many of the workers knew Homeless and were on friendly terms with him—friendly terms simply meant they did not give Homeless a hard time for asking for alms. Homeless was never upset if a worker was nice to him without offering alms. It only took a handful of generous donations for him to afford a meal, and since there were plenty of people always around, it was very rare that he couldn’t afford a bite to eat by the end of the day. He took out his tin mug and got to work. He spent some time sitting on a busy sidewalk holding it out in front of him, and sometimes it clinked or clanked with the drop of a coin or two, and then he spent some other time walking up to the workers and asking them personally for spare change. At the end of the lunch break Homeless had accumulated enough money for a hot dog and a soda at one of the street vendor stands. He ate his meal, slowly, on the steps of the public library. He was tempted to end the day on such a fantastic note and head back to his place under the bridge but decided against it—what if he wanted something else to eat? Once evening fell, and he again accrued enough change for food, then he would return to his spot under the only bridge in and out of town. Besides, it was a lovely day! Why put it to waste? Homeless spent the time between lunch and evening walking through the public park. He sat on benches and stretched out on the fresh grass and listened to the birds or the rustling of nature. During his walk he saw a homeless man sleeping underneath a tree. Homeless still had a quarter in his pocket. He walked over to him. “Hey, man,” asked Homeless, “you eat yet today?” The man asleep under the tree smiled grimly. “No, not yet, still need to find a little more cash.” “Well, here, brother, take this.” Homeless put the quarter in the other’s hand. “I already got myself a hot dog today, so I’m doing pretty good right now.” “Thanks, man, I appreciate it.” “Don’t mention it. Try and enjoy the day, alright?” So Homeless’s stomach started to grumble again, and as the sun began to set, he walked back to the middle of town to ask for more change. In the evening, people were not as likely to give out alms. They all walked quickly and with purpose, eager to get home to their families. Homeless was aware of this; he 10 | CCLaP Weekender
did not expect to receive as much money as he had earlier in the day, but then he stumbled on a very generous and unusual man. Since we never get to know this man’s name, and since his most distinguishing trait was his monocle, so thick that it appeared opaque when looking at it head on, we will simply call him the Man in the Monocle. The Man in the Monocle wore very stately, navy blue clothes, and he had white long combed-back hair and a stylish goatee paired with an even more stylish handlebar moustache. At first Homeless was apprehensive to ask him for alms—his appearance was so outlandish Homeless thought there was a good chance that The Man in the Monocle, too, was unemployed—but it appeared this odd-looking man was actually looking directly at Homeless, almost inviting him to start a conversation. So, knowing he really had nothing to lose, he approached The Man in the Monocle and made his plea. “Say, brother-man, you wouldn’t happen to have a few coins to pass on for a bite to eat, would you?” Upon being addressed, The Man in the Monocle expressed a broad, toothless, grin. When he spoke even his voice sounded regal. “Why, of course, my good man! I will gladly help out another in need!” “Oh bless you, anything will help.” The Man in the Monocle took out a small leather purse from under his jacket and removed a large green wad of bills. Homeless had never seen so much money in his life, and his eyes widened and his hands shook when he saw the Man in the Monocle carelessly flip through it until he finally peeled off a single green layer and handed it to him. It was a hundred dollar bill. “Here you go, sir! One hundred dollars! Go out, get your hair cut, a clean shave, a nice hot shower, some new clothes, and find yourself a job!” Homeless looked down at the crisp bill, bewildered. “Th-thank you, man! God bless you, man!” The Man in the Monocle waved his hand. “Think nothing of it. Make the best of that hundred dollars, boy! I have given you your future!” “Oh, bless you, sir! Thank you!” And just like that the Man in the Monocle was gone, and Homeless was left with his hundred dollars. He had never seen so much money in his life. Sure, the Man in the Monocle had given him an itinerary of things to do, but Homeless had other plans. He wanted to taste a lobster for the first time. He wanted to get drunk on a fine bottle of wine, maybe see a movie too. His head was reeling. He decided he’d make the best out of those hundred dollars according to himself! It took three days for Homeless to spend the money. The first thing he did was eat lobster at a fancy restaurant. That, he thought, was overrated—what’s the point of a delicacy if it only tastes good when you douse it in butter? Every night, he got himself a fine bottle of wine and drank it all at his spot under the bridge, and every night he sang his favorite songs and danced by himself and splashed in the water of the nearby river. He saw a movie, three of them actually, and laughed and cried and yelped in fear. By the time he spent the May 16, 2014 | 11
entire hundred dollars, he looked and felt worse than he had before. His last bottle of wine caused a day-long hangover, full of vomiting and diarrhea, his appetite had grown so that a hot dog no longer filled him up, and his walk into town wasn’t as enjoyable as he remembered it to be. The workers smelled wine on his breath and were less willing to hand him alms. Walking through the town, he shook his head and realized he had made a mistake. Things got even worse two days later when he saw the Man in the Monocle walking through town again. He looked upon Homeless in disgust. “You! What have you done! Your hair has not been cut! Your beard wasn’t shaved! Your clothes are still in tatters! And – what’s this?” The Man in the Monocle sniffed. “Is that alcohol I smell? What is the meaning of this!” “Man, I’m sorry, man, but I wasted that hundred dollars on booze and food and movies. I made a big mistake, man, I’m sorry. I feel stupid.” The Man in the Monocle’s head turned purple, and steam blew out his nostrils. “You inept, ungrateful, little swine! I give you your future and you throw it away! I should thrash you right here with my cane! Do you hear me??” Then he did something completely unexpected — he went back into his coat, found his leather purse, and once again peeled a hundred dollar bill out and handed it to Homeless! “Now do as I say this time! Get yourself clothes and clean yourself up and find a job! And if you don’t, I will personally beat the living daylights out of you!” Homeless did not hear the threat, he was so happy to have more money. “Really? You mean it?” “Yes I mean it! Now get out of my sight before I blow a gasket!” Another hundred dollars! This time, Homeless vowed to do just as the Man in the Monocle said. He got his hair cut and shampooed and got his dirty scraggly beard shaved off, too. He brought some soap and showered at one of the town’s community centers. Then, he got himself a nice collared shirt and some khakis. Homeless felt spiffy. He felt like the handsomest devil in the whole town, and he still had twenty dollars to spare! He was certain that if he went to a bar, he could probably pick up a woman and sleep with her. So he went to a
It took three days for Homeless to spend the money. The first thing he did was eat lobster at a fancy restaurant. That, he thought, was overrated—what’s the point of a delicacy if it only tastes good when you douse it in butter?
12 | CCLaP Weekender
local pub, spent his last twenty dollars, and ended up going back to a woman’s apartment, where she and Homeless spent the night doing various explicit things. The next morning he stepped outside and he was satisfied. But now he was back to being penniless. He needed to find a job. But all the places hiring did not impress Homeless. They were low, menial jobs that didn’t catch his eye. He wanted to do something better, like be famous or a genius. So after finding no jobs that suited him he spent the day asking for alms to get him by for the day. He was surprised to find people were more generous than they ever had been with him before, and by the end of the day he had money to afford enough food to satisfy him as well as a pint of vodka, which he drank that night at his spot under the bridge, singing his favorite songs and dancing and splashing in the nearby river. The next morning, Homeless was awoken by a gentle kick in his side. He was groggy from the night before, and it took him a second to realize that the person standing above him was the Man in the Monocle. “Well, I see you’ve cleaned yourself up. Have you found a job?” Homeless was confused. “Hey, man, how did you know I was here? What gives?” “That’s none of your business. Have you found a job?” Homeless sat up and with one hand scratched behind his head. “Nah, man, not yet.” “What? There are plenty of entry-level positions available. What’s the problem?” “Well, nothing really piques my interest, know what I mean?” The Man in the Monocle’s moustache bunched up. “Is that so?” “Yeah, I mean, I don’t wanna be no dishwasher, dig?” “Oh? And what would you like to be instead?” “Well I was thinkin’ maybe bein’ like, a celebrity would be a pretty good gig.” “A celebrity?” roared the Man in the Monocle. “Yeah, they seem to live pretty—” And before Homeless knew it the Man in the Monocle had landed a kick straight into his gut. “Buffoon!” he shouted, followed by a punch in the face, “Ignoramus!” followed by a step in the groin, “Idiot!” followed by a kick in the face, “Cretin!” finally followed by another kick in the gut. Homeless was panting hard. He was in a lot of pain and wanted to know why the Man in the Monocle had beaten him, but he couldn’t find the strength to ask. So the Man in the Monocle spoke instead. “You think you can just become a celebrity? You must work to achieve May 16, 2014 | 13
that! That does not fall upon everybody! You can’t just walk into a celebrity factory and walk out rich and famous! Sir, being a celebrity takes hard work. If you start at an entry level position, and you work hard enough, then you can achieve fame and fortune!” Homeless was not completely sure but he thought he was coughing up blood. The Man in the Monocle continued. “I am giving you another fifty dollars. Get yourself patched up, and start at the first job you find, you understand? I will help you through it and tell you what you need to do to become famous. But do not disobey again! If you disobey me again I will kill you myself!” he leaned in close to Homeless’s pained face. “Remember: nobody misses a dead bum.” It took Homeless a whole day to recover from his bruises and scrapings before he was able to get up and walk into town. How did the Man in the Monocle find him? Who was he? Why did he find it so important that Homeless find a job? The way it sounded, finding any job he wanted was not worth the effort. Hard work? Why, he was just fine with the way he was living before, only making enough for his meals and sleeping at his spot under the bridge. But it no longer mattered what he wanted. The Man in the Monocle made it perfectly clear that if Homeless didn’t start working soon there would be fatal consequences. Homeless was very certain he did not want to die an unnatural death. He looked down at the fifty dollars. “On to bigger and better things, I guess,” he thought. After recovering, Homeless used the money to clean up his clothes and get some bandages, and walked into the first store with a Help Wanted sign. “Hey, I saw your help wanted sign.” “Yeah. Can you wash dishes?” “Sure, I don’t see why not.” The manager looked at Homeless suspiciously. “What’s with all the scrapes and bruises?” “Oh, yeah—” he looked down and then back up. “I got mugged.” So Homeless got a fulltime job working as a dishwasher at a diner in town. Now, every morning before heading in, he made sure to look presentable, and kept a close eye on his one nice outfit. When he received his first check, his eyes almost popped out of his head—he had never made so much money before in his life! He imagined going to the bar, buying everyone a round and making friends and sleeping with the most beautiful woman there, before he remembered what happened the last time he did that, specifically with the Man in the Monocle. He decided it would be better to put it to different uses. He purchased himself three new outfits of clothing, as well as toiletries, including razors, shaving cream, and toothpaste. He still had money leftover but was reluctant to use it for alcohol. The Man in the Monocle stopped by one evening at Homeless’s spot under the bridge while Homeless was sitting on the ground, in deep contemplation about what to do with the remaining 14 | CCLaP Weekender
cash. “Hello, Homeless.” Homeless’s head shot up. “Hey, man, how’d you know my name?” “That’s not important,” The Man in the Monocle replied. He saw Homeless’s three new outfits hanging from one of the beams at his spot under the bridge and smiled. “It seems like you’re doing better since last time.” “Oh, yeah, man, totally.” “You found a job?” “Yeah. I’m working over as a dishwasher at a diner.” “And I see you’ve been putting your money to good use…” “Yeah, I thought you’d like it, man. But now,” Homeless continued, showing the Man in the Monocle the extra cash, “I got all this leftover.” “And what do you intend to do with it?” “That’s the thing, man! I have no idea. I mean, I was thinking about going out to the bars–“ The Man in the Monocle frowned. “—but I knew that wouldn’t make you happy.” “Yes, Homeless, you made the correct assumption.” “So, now I have, like, no idea what to with it!” “Well, Homeless,” said the Man in the Monocle, squatting down to speak at eye level, “I said I’d help you, and I will. Now that you’re finally on the right track to success, it would be my pleasure to offer you some advice.” “Oh, man, that’d be great! I really appreciate it!” “Now, what you have is not an impressive amount of cash, but it’s certainly enough to start a bank account. Have you ever had a bank account before, Homeless?” “Nah, I can’t say I have.” “A bank account is a place where you can save all your unused money safely. And on top of that, over time the money in your account can collect interest.” Homeless was perplexed. “Interest?” “Yes, Homeless. That’s when the money in your account increases over time.” “Really? Without even working?” “That’s correct, but you should not be under the impression that interest creates a whole lot of money. You’ll still need to work.” The Man in the Monocle got up from his squatting position. “I’d suggest that you put whatever extra money you have in a bank account for now, and continue doing so every week. When you start storing enough cash, we will discuss investments. Now, have you been working hard at your job?” Homeless nodded. “Good. Work as hard as you can. The harder you work, the more your employer will like you, and the more likely you will get a promotion and make more money. I will come by one day this week to look around the place.” The Man in the Monocle put his hand on Homeless’s shoulder. “I have big plans May 16, 2014 | 15
for you, Homeless. You will be more powerful than you ever imagined!” And he left as quickly as he arrived. Thus turned a new leaf for Homeless. He worked hard as a dishwasher and made good money and put whatever he had left over in the bank. He stopped drinking altogether, and the next time the Man in the Monocle came by he came with blueprints Homeless could give his manager to make the diner a more efficient and lucrative business. He also told Homeless to feel free to spend some of the money on himself, though he advised against drink and “idle vice.” The first thing Homeless purchased was a gramophone and some records; he had no use for an electronic system because he had no outlets at his spot under the bridge. Then he bought a few more articles of clothing, as well as a mattress he could sleep on. When he showed his manager the plans to make the diner a more efficient and lucrative business, he was so impressed that he promoted Homeless to assistant manager. Sure, it meant Homeless had to work more hours, and he had more responsibility, but he started to make bigger and better money. He purchased a bedframe for his mattress and a fullbody mirror and was still putting the majority of his paychecks in the bank. He brought fancy shampoo and soap and cologne and two lounge chairs. He loved spending his nights listening to his gramophone while resting on his new bed. One day while Homeless was at work, the regional district manager of the diner came by to inspect how things were going. It was a very nerve-wracking day for both manager and assistant manager. They kept all the employees on edge—if anyone made a mistake, Homeless was immediately upon them, growling and cursing and asking if they were trying to get themselves fired. But by the end of the day the regional district manager was impressed with the diner’s overall maintenance. “What most impressed me,” said the regional district manager, “was the way the diner is set up to function at optimum efficiency. Of all the diners I have inspected, yours is hands down the most successful!” And before Homeless could say anything, even blush, he heard his manager say, “Yes, sir. I came up with the idea a few months ago. It’s been working quite well.” The regional district manager slapped him on the shoulder. “Keep up the good work, Johnson!” The Man in the Monocle came by that week to see how things were going and jumped out of his lounge chair when Homeless told him what had happened with the regional district manager. “Curses!” he shouted. “That bastard thinks he can steal all the credit, does he? Well, Homeless, we can work around it.” 16 | CCLaP Weekender
“We can?” “Of course! We’re not afraid of him! Here,” The Man in the Monocle handed him a clutter of papers. “Here are even more plans to make the executive infrastructure work even better. You get yourself a meeting with the regional district manager, tell him how that thieving manager of yours stole your ideas, and then present him with these plans as proof of your ability.” “So, like, what’ll happen then?” The Man in the Monocle stared at him. “Well, if he knows what’s good for him, he’ll promote you above the manager!” “Above the manager?” “That’s right. You’ll be making an even more impressive amount than what you’re making now.” It was difficult for Homeless to even believe that such a number could exist, so he didn’t think much about it. “Now,” continued the Man in the Monocle, “I also came here to talk about investing. It’s time to make your money work for you!” That night Homeless learned all about mutual funds and stocks and trading, and by the end of the evening, he had built himself a very impressive portfolio. When the Man and the Monocle was finished talking to him and stood up to leave, he looked around the spot under the bridge “Homeless, what are your hobbies?” “Well, you know, I guess just music.” “You should get new hobbies. Learn to appreciate more. Stock yourself a bar with nice liquors and purchase some fine cigars.” “But I thought you told me not to drink.” “Yes, but a glass of the finer stuff on occasion is good for the soul.”
The Man in the Monocle put his hand on Homeless’s shoulder. “I have big plans for you, Homeless. You will be more powerful than you ever imagined!”
The next day at work, Homeless noticed that his manager was reluctant to look him in the eyes or to talk with him at all. Their once friendly relationship had become strained. Did he know Homeless had more tricks up his sleeve? “He must be afraid of me,” he thought. He made no mention of his meeting with the district regional manager, May 16, 2014 | 17
either. On the day of the meeting, Homeless lied and explained he had to leave early for a doctor’s appointment. The manager showed no suspicion and let him leave. Homeless got on a train and headed to the city by commuter rail. The city was nothing like the town. It was enormous, its smallest building was bigger than the town’s largest, and the sidewalks were saturated with business suits and bustle. At first everything frightened Homeless, he thought at any moment one of those big business men would start shouting at him to get out of the way, but he puffed up his chest and marched over to the big corporate building where the regional district manager worked. The inside was filled with marble and statues and fountains. Homeless took an elevator up to the 38th floor. He found the regional district manager sitting at his desk in his gigantic office. Directly behind him was a trophy case, and next to that was the mounted head of an elephant. The regional district manager was hard at work and didn’t even look up to talk. “Yes, Homeless, what is it. You wanted to see me?” Homeless gulped. “Well, yeah, man, sir, I wanted to see you about the inspection you, uh, conducted at our diner a few weeks ago—“ The regional district manager was still writing and shuffling papers. “Yes, yes, the most successful inspection we’ve ever seen. We still talk about it up here. Now what about it? I’m very busy, and I don’t have much time for anything other than work.” “Well, you see, that set up for the diner wasn’t the manager’s—it was mine.” The regional district manager looked up. “Excuse me?” “Yeah, he, like, lied, man. It was totally bullshit.” “Homeless, you do understand that unless you have any way to prove this, I can only understand what you’re doing right now as an act of jealousy and immaturity. Now, do you have proof ?” Homeless almost forgot the binder of plans he had brought with him. He walked up and put them down on the desk. “Yeah, man! I do! Check this out!” The regional district manager looked inconvenienced, but he took the binder anyway and started reading, and the more he read the faster his eyes moved from line to line, and the more his hands trembled. He looked up at Homeless, and now he no longer looked so hard. “Homeless—this is incredible! This will revolutionize the way we do business!” Homeless had no idea that the plans were that incredible, but he played along. “Yeah, man. See what I mean? See how that douchebag lied?” Now the regional district manager was standing up and moving rapidly out from behind his desk. “My God! I’m sorry I ever doubted you! Homeless, you are going places! From now on, you’re no longer working at the diner! You’re an official executive! You’re gonna have your own office, your own secretary, and an astronomical salary!” 18 | CCLaP Weekender
Though the phrase is often used in storytelling, reaching a point at which some people may characterize it as “cliché,” for all intents and purposes, Homeless’s head was now spinning. This was far more than he ever imagined could happen. An executive! Homeless envisioned himself hard at work, talking on phones and eating with powerful men. That Man in the Monocle must be a genius! “So, like, when do I start?” he asked once he found his voice. “As soon as possible. We’ll start setting up your office immediately. How does tomorrow sound?” “Sure, that’s cool.” “Don’t even worry about letting your manager know about the promotion. We’ll take care of that. Now go home and get some rest! We want you looking chipper for your first day.” Homeless could not sit still the entire trip back to his spot under the bridge. He paced up and down the commuter rail car in overwhelming excitement, and broke into a light happy jog when he got off. Back at his spot under the bridge he thought of the ways to improve it. A second bed and floor, some fine art to hang up on the pillars, more records, the best liquor, china… he’d need nicer suits, too. Maybe even electricity. He probably could afford the extension chords, or a generator. He poured himself a nice glass of scotch and listened to his favorite song and fell asleep. Wait ‘til the Man in the Monocle heard! Homeless found out he was making more money than he could have ever imagined, so he was able to do everything he wanted to and then some. He even hired a servant. Now he had three beds (one for the servant, and one [which was on the newly constructed second floor (a loft that could be reached by ladder)] for anyone from work who visited him and didn’t want to make the long trip home at night), an armoire, a lamp, a refrigerator, a big table, five chairs, and much, much more. And now that he had a lamp he started reading, as well. When he wasn’t expecting guests there would be books strewn everywhere amongst his records and dirty glasses his servant still needed to wash in the river. But when he did have company, Homeless was a fantastic host. Although he never had people over for dinner, he served them the finest liquors, the nicest cigars, and exciting discussion. Most of his friends were coworkers whom he made friends with. He even made something of a girlfriend out of his secretary, who came over often as well. The Man in the Monocle stopped by occasionally, but he never had as much to say as he had before. For the most part he was satisfied with giving snippets of advice and helping Homeless come up with new means for efficiency in the business. He was very satisfied with the way Homeless was living. Homeless could not help but shake the feeling that now that he had achieved success, the two of them would start drifting apart. He hoped not. As much as he was afraid of him, Homeless admired the Man in the Monocle. May 16, 2014 | 19
Besides, he still needed help with money management and business. He didn’t want to mess it all up! One nice Saturday afternoon, Homeless was sitting at one of his chairs, listening to some music and reading, when a long, long, limousine pulled up to his spot. Out of it came a man dressed in a sharp tuxedo. A thin black moustache was etched onto his top lip and he had no chin. “Hey, guy, what’s goin’ on? What can I help you with?” Apparently he had no sense of humor, either, because the man from the limousine did not smile at Homeless’s friendly welcome. “You are invited to come to a dinner party this evening.” “Whose dinner party?” Homeless could not sit “You should know, I still the entire trip back to suspect.” his spot under the bridge. Homeless smiled. “Wait a second… I get to see my He paced up and down boy’s place? The guy with the the commuter rail car in eye—?” he asked, pointing to an imaginary monocle on his own overwhelming excitement, face. and broke into a light “Yes. That is correct.” happy jog when he got “Alright! I’m in! Just gimme a minute.” off. Back at his spot under Homeless put on his the bridge he thought of nicest suit. “Ok! Let’s do this!” the ways to improve it. The man from the A second bed and floor, limousine opened the door some fine art to hang up on for Homeless and Homeless stepped in. The inside was the pillars, more records, tremendous: there were TVs, the best liquor, china… a full bar, even a Jacuzzi at the other end. Homeless took a seat he’d need nicer suits, too. near the rear of the car and his Maybe even electricity. copassenger sat across from him. “This is great!” Homeless exclaimed. He got no reply. His host sat there staring at him, and he did so for the entire ride. All three hours of it. The Man in the Monocle lived in a tremendous mansion at the top of a tremendous hill. It was nighttime when they pulled up, but it didn’t look like there was a single light on inside. Homeless didn’t mention it though. Not after such a rigid ride. He just looked up quietly and took it all in on his own. The man with the thin moustache rang the doorbell, and a blonde haired young man in a white servant’s outfit opened the door. He looked like a 20 | CCLaP Weekender
normal person, except his eyes were incredibly crossed—the right one was pointed all the way to the right, and the left one was pointed all the way to the left. Homeless didn’t have time to stare, for the servant lit up with excitement as soon as the door was opened. “Homeless! Good to see you made it! He’ll be so happy!” he directed his attention to the man with the mustache. “I’ll take it from here, Geoff.” Geoff bowed, turned around and went back into the limousine, and the limousine slowly rolled away. The servant beckoned him in. “You don’t know how happy he’ll be to see you, Homeless! My name is Buford, by the way. I’m his personal butler. Let me show you to the dining room.” It was odd inside. Though the rooms were enormous with high, high ceilings, there were no decorations, nor were there any carpeting or rugs. Everything was blank and white. What was even odder was that Buford managed to crash into things. When he turned around after closing the door behind Homeless he tripped over his feet and did a front flip, but his demeanor never changed. From what Homeless saw, Buford was a very happy and energetic fellow who needed to have a lot happen to him to get upset. He went on and on about the Man in the Monocle while the two of them walked through several empty rooms. Buford bumped into walls, missed doorways, and generally lacked any sort of coordination. “You’re lucky to know such a great man, Homeless,” he said after getting up and brushing himself off after one of his falls. “He’s an inspiration for us all. A true example of how hard work and determination can get you whatever you want! I don’t even see this as a job. It’s more of a blessing, being in his presence, listening to him, following him. You know what I’m talking about, don’t you, Homeless?” “Yeah, I think so.” “Of course you do. How can anyone’s who’s met him not know what I’m talking about?” Buford made a sudden sharp turn and walked straight into one of the walls. “Oh! How clumsy of me!” The dining room was apparently the only room with something in it. A long table was in the middle, and at the far end was the Man in the Monocle, sitting in a most kingly manner. “There he is!” whispered Buford to Homeless. Then he addressed the Man in the Monocle, shouting since the other end of the table was so far away: “I found him, sir! Here’s Homeless, sir! He’s accepted your invitation!” “Splendid,” he replied. “Buford, you are dismissed.” “Very well, sir!” Buford bowed to both of them and walked out. The Man in the Monocle smiled warmly and motioned to the seat all the way at the other end of the table. It didn’t sound like he was straining himself, but his voice was heard perfectly. May 16, 2014 | 21
“Please, sit down.” Homeless sat down. The Man in the Monocle looked like a blot of red white and blue, he was so far away. “I’m glad you made it, Homeless, in more than one sense of the phrase.” “Hey, man, I’m glad you asked me over! Finally get to see your place!” “What do you think?” Homeless feigned a slow, steady look around. “It’s interesting.” “I will take that as a compliment. It took me my entire life to get all this. It took all my tact, all my cunning to achieve what you see here. Would you like a drink?” “Sure, sounds good to me.” “Anything in particular?” “Nah, I’m sure whatever you choose’ll be delicious.” “Very well.” Homeless could make out the motion of his head tilting back. “Buford!” There was the sound of things falling and the occasional yelp, and then Buford was there, beside the Man in the Monocle. “Yes, sir, what is it?” “Bring out a bottle of my personal merlot, as well as the first plate.” Buford bowed. “Certainly, sir! At once, sir!” He turned around too quickly and fell. “How clumsy!” And he was out of the room. Homeless cleared his throat. “That’s, uh, that’s quite the help you got there.” “Buford is a pitiable being, an invalid, but I deal with him because he admires me so much. It really is something to have someone so blindly admire you, Homeless. I’m sure you could find someone like that soon enough.” “Really?” “Of course. Followers are everywhere. And as you acquire more and more power, the more they will flock to you.” Homeless didn’t like the sound of this. “Oh. That’s pretty…interesting.” Buford was already back in the room. Somehow he had managed to carry all the wine and food on one tray without spilling anything. He put a plate down in front of the Man in the Monocle, then a glass, then poured him his wine. He then rushed over to Homeless’ place and did the same. While this was happening, the Man in the Monocle spoke. “Homeless, I want you to know that I did not just call you to share a meal. There are other, far more profound reasons as to why I requested you. See,” he said, grabbing his now full glass of wine, “you were something of a test for me. An experiment. I suspect you might have come to that conclusion without needing me to tell you, but I do not want you to take offense to it. Mine was an experiment in generosity, in benevolence, in wisdom. I found you and I gave you that money to see if I could help you, to see if I could take a tramp, a vagabond, and make him into something worthwhile. I do have to admit that at first I was cynical; with your initial reactions towards the charity I offered you, I had difficulty believing you could ever get out of 22 | CCLaP Weekender
your irresponsible, unhealthy ways. But, thankfully, I persisted, and with this persistence I made you learn.” At this point, the food served and the wine poured, the Man in the Monocle took a sip from his glass, and Buford, on his way out, managed to lose control of the empty tray, which flung out of his hands and into the other room with a resounding crash. Neither Homeless nor The Man in the Monocle looked to see if he was all right. “Here. Before we go any further try your food and wine. I think you’ll really enjoy it.” The wine was a red Homeless had never seen before. It was bright— almost neon. But when Homeless took his sip the flavor was overwhelming. He was certain that if he had tried to have more than a sip would have fallen out of his chair. “Jesus Christ, man,” Homeless exclaimed. “That is some good shit!” “Now try your food.” On the plate was a single small cube, colored puce. Homeless ate it, and this time he did fall out of his chair. It took him a second to gather himself. “Wow!” he exclaimed, still on the ground. “Wow! That is some good shit!” He grabbed onto the arms of the chair and lifted himself back up. “What was that?” “That was dinosaur.” Homeless’s jaw dropped. “You have dinosaur?!” “That’s correct. Like I said earlier, Homeless, through my hard work I achieved all of this, far more than anyone else has achieved. Now let us resume.” “Alright…” Homeless eyed his wine, but didn’t want to have any while the Man in the Monocle talked lest he should fall out of his seat again. “So. Now, here we are, both by many men’s standards successes. We have crushed those who have gotten in our way, we have kept suppressed any potential threats by making use of our advantage in status, and we have had the opportunity to experience the finer things in life. What you have not learned yet, though, Homeless, is that the higher you get, and the more people you crush, the more isolated you become. You still have your fellow executives, but the day you are promoted you will lose them, and when you become a CEO, or a president, and you crush other businesses, you will be respected, yes, but you will not be trusted. You will lose everyone who is worth confiding in, and be left with the moronic, the blind, like Buford.” “Is that why I’m the only one here? I mean, I was told it was a dinner party, you know? Not just a dinner.” The Man in the Monocle nodded. “Yes. That is correct. I could have invited others, but their presences would have been insincere, not worth my time.” He sighed. “Sycophancy is entertaining for only so long, unfortunately.” “So, what do you want me to do? Like, be your friend?” “‘Friend’ is such a dirty word. I’d like to have you around for company, May 16, 2014 | 23
for companionship.” At this point, the Man in the Monocle stood up, and slowly made the trip to the other side of the table, to Homeless’s side. “You see, I feel like I have sort of raised you. I feel like you are a son to me. I do not feel threatened by you. At all. For you to turn on me would be to do something so heartless that only I could achieve it. So no, not friendship. More of a partnership. Us working together for the same reason, to achieve as much as we possibly can.” Now the Man in the Monocle was standing over Homeless, his hand on his shoulder, looking down at him warmly. Homeless looked at his empty plate, then he looked at his wine, and then he turned his head around, briefly, to see the doorway. “Well, I guess I could give it a shot.” “Splendid!” The Man in the Monocle started walking back to his place and leaned his head back once again. “Buford! The next dish, please!” Once again, Buford rushed out, replaced the empty plates with a new one, this time an orange cube, and rushed back out, but not before flinging his tray. The Man in the Monocle was seated just as quickly as Buford was out the room. “There are three more courses for the evening. Once we finish them I can show you around and discuss with you some new ways to get to the top of that business you’re working at. I’ve prepared a bed for you as well. Now that you’re here, you’ll have no need for the things you have at your spot under the bridge.” “Wait, you want me to move in here?” “Yes, of course. If we want to work together we should live together. Don’t be so naïve.” Homeless gulped. “No, I don’t know about that, man. I don’t know if I’d want to move in with you.” “Why not?” “Well, I like where I live, you know? It’s my place. It’s got all my favorite books and discs and paintings and everything.” “Once you move here you’ll realize that’s all children’s stuff. Besides, I have every book, record, painting, sculpture, everything you could ever conceive, archived here.” “Well, I still don’t know…” “Eat your course.” The Man in the Monocle’s voice was flat and sharp. Homeless ate it as he did the last one, and then he saw a very bright white, and then he woke up and found he had fallen back in his chair and had soiled himself. He knew he wanted more, but what had happened frightened him, he had never experienced something so wonderful. The Man in the Monocle did not wait for him to ask. “That,” he said, “was angel.” Homeless could not speak. “Yes, Homeless. Here we have dinosaur and angel. We have angels and dinosaurs bred, and they are kept in pens, and we cook them and prepare them and eat them. The next course will be supernova, followed by the beginning, 24 | CCLaP Weekender
followed by the future. And can you believe that even these no longer sate my appetite? By the end of this meal you will have tasted something that the entire past, present, and future of mankind combined will be unable to accomplish.” Homeless was feeling better now. He could speak, but he still shook. “That was so fucking good.” “I know. Now you see why you wouldn’t need your books and music?” Homeless sighed. He calmed himself down. “That was good—” “—Don’t repeat yourself—” “—but, nah, I can’t, man. It’s too much. I like being home doing this stuff on my own. Even if I did get to have this stuff again, I’d want to “We have crushed those earn it on my own.” The Man in the Monocle who have gotten in grew angry, like he used to back our way, we have kept when Homeless first met him. suppressed any potential “On your own, Homeless?? On your own?! Up until today, threats by making use of what have I not helped you with, our advantage in status, what haven’t I told you to do and say that you haven’t done?! and we have had the Do you think you earned this?! opportunity to experience I earned this, Homeless! I made the finer things in life. you!” It was true. Homeless had What you have not learned not even thought about it. His yet, though, Homeless, is head drooped a little. “Wow, man, I—wow. I that the higher you get, and didn’t even think about that.” He the more people you crush, stood up. the more isolated you “Sit down!” Homeless didn’t hear him. become.” “You will stay here and you will work with me! Now sit down!” Why did he want him to stay so badly? Homeless thought. Was he that lonely? “HOMELESS!” Homeless called Buford and Buford came out. “Yes, how can I help you?” “Buford, where’s the exit?” “Oh it’s this way and that way and—” “Buford, you imbecile! He’s not supposed to leave! Stop him!” Buford’s happy disposition changed for the first time since Homeless had arrived. He started to run, to chase after Homeless, but he kept falling every May 16, 2014 | 25
few feet. Homeless slowly walked to the exit. He could hear Buford’s clumsy steps and crashes behind him, he could hear him shouting “Stop!” and his panting, and whenever it sounded like he was getting too close Homeless jogged a few steps to keep a safe distance between them. He found outside. There was no car, so he started walking back to his spot under the bridge. He turned around one last time and saw Buford in the doorway, a small, motionless spot, unable to go any further, shouting for Homeless to come back, come back right this instant. C
Thomas Simmons currently lives in Chicago. Additional work can be found at therealolivegarden.tumblr.com. He is currently shopping around a novel and collection of short stories. Contact him at ftktas86@gmail.com.
26 | CCLaP Weekender
PHOTOGRAPHY FEATURE
Tiberio Frascari May 16, 2014 | 27
28 | CCLaP Weekender
May 16, 2014 | 29
30 | CCLaP Weekender
May 16, 2014 | 31
32 | CCLaP Weekender
May 16, 2014 | 33
34 | CCLaP Weekender
May 16, 2014 | 35
36 | CCLaP Weekender
May 16, 2014 | 37
38 | CCLaP Weekender
May 16, 2014 | 39
40 | CCLaP Weekender
May 16, 2014 | 41
42 | CCLaP Weekender
May 16, 2014 | 43
44 | CCLaP Weekender
May 16, 2014 | 45
flickr.com/tango46 | CCLaP Weekender
t
lg
a ci
ns pe i g s be ith SON on w N s ea 0TH OH s 14 Y 3 N J 0 2 A O M AS M
s ue
one writer thirty minutes 20 audience members free food and liquor
the cclap sessions @cclap's studio 505 Clarendon and Buena Avenues Uptown, Chicago cclapcenter.com/studio505 May 16, 2014 | 47
The CCLaP Weekender is published in electronic form only, every Friday for free download at the CCLaP website [cclapcenter.com]. Copyright 2014, Chicago Center for Literature and Photography. All rights revert back to artists upon publication. Editorin-chief: Jason Pettus. Story Editor: Allegra Pusateri. Calendar Editors: Anna Thiakos and Taylor Carlile. To submit your work for possible feature, or to add a calendar item, contact us at cclapcenter@gmail.com.
Did you like this? Pay us 99 cents and help us keep them coming! bit.ly/cclapweekender
48 | CCLaP Weekender