(no subject)

There's a big wonderful dog named Bacon in the Atlanta, Georgia area who needs to find a home. Here's a link back to a Livejournal post about him, including a picture. If you know anyone who might be able to help out, please let them know.

He's a ten year old, 100 pound, mellow house dog. I so wish I had room for him. I miss my ten year old, 100 pound, mellow house dog. A lot sometimes. Hopefully Bacon can find someone like me who has the room for him.

(no subject)

What a day.

What a couple of days.

synicism and I went out yesterday to photograph an abandoned power plant down in Dixmoor that we've visited before. Last time I was there I didn't have my super-wide lens, so I wanted new shots.

Previous times, we'd parked a few blocks away in front of a bar up on Honore. Yesterday, we decided, for some reason, to park in front of some abandoned houses just across the street from the back side of the plant.

We were in there for maybe three hours. At one point, we saw a car through the perimeter fence marked something-or-other-security, but we ducked behind an outbuilding and paid it no mind when no one came looking for us.

We finished up in the plant and came back out to find that my car was gone.

"What do you want to do?" asked Syn.

"Well, I'll call the local police non-emergency number and see if it got towed."

I did, and it had. Fortunately, the station was just a few blocks away. We got over there and confirmed that my car had indeed been towed by the Dixmoor police. Someone had called and reported it as abandoned. That was pretty damn fast.

After a bit, we ended up talking to a police detective who happened to be on duty who explained that that particular area is heavily watched due to the abandoned houses in the area operating, from time to time, as crack dens. He suggested that next time we're in the area, we call ahead and let the police know where we are and what we're doing. He didn't seem at all phased that we'd been in the area photographing, and was actually very nice about the whole thing. We ended up tangenting into a discussion about his job and how difficult things have become in Dixmoor in the 20 years he's been working and I told him how much respect I have for people who do the kind of work he does. It was a really nice talk.

It didn't get my car back though.

Syn paid for a taxi to take us all the way to Rogers Park. That was an expensive taxi ride. I emailed work and let them know that I would need to take tomorrow off to deal with my car. Then I showered and went to bed. I was anxious and exhausted.

I got up about seven-thirty this morning, got stuff together, and was out the door by half past eight. I rode the purple line down to Belmont, then transferred to the red line which I took all the way to it's southern terminus at 95th street. From there I got a CTA bus to Western and 111th, where I caught a Pace bus down to just north of the highway 57 overpass, around 145th Street. A walk of a little over half a mile from there brought me to the Dixmoor police station. This looks familiar, I thought.

I talked to the police about getting my car released for pickup. I was required to show ID and insurance, which I fortunately had in my wallet and not in my car. I wondered what would happen if I didn't have insurance (in Wisconsin it is not legally required to have insurance to drive) but I decided not to ask. I handed over $50 and got a release form for my car.

From there, I walked about a mile and a half to the towing company lot, where I discovered that they would not take a check or a debit card for the fee. Cash only. My bank's policies only allow me to take $200 out of ATMs per day, and not only had I already taken $60 out for the police, but I owed more than $200 to get my car ($140 towing fee plus $40 per calendar day of storage). I asked where the nearest bank was in the hope that I could somehow get money by writing them a check or getting a bank transfer or something. I don't really know how these things work, but I was running out of options.

So I walked a mile and a half ("Oh, it's about eight blocks" the clerk at the towing company said) to Citizen's Bank on 154th Street. I talked to a teller who talked to her manager. I was hopeful when, after I presented my case, she talked about doing something called a cash advance for me. That sounds suspiciously like a payday loan scam, but if it cost me a little extra, I supposed I'd just have to cough it up. But in the end, they couldn't help. As well as having an out of state ID (still have Wisconsin license), they said they couldn't accept my debit card because my name doesn't match my ID. Yes, the name on my card is "Christophe", not "Christopher". Just like every other debit credit card I've had because the last "R" does not fit. The first name field is not long enough. I'm going to have to call and ask about that sometime soon.

So I moved on to the Fifth Third Bank that the teller directed me too. They skipped the runaround and went straight for the big finish; the teller told me that their cash advance system was down so I couldn't get any money through them.

I was stymied. Out of options, I called farm_cat in Kenosha, who wonderfully, generously, drove all the way down to the south side of Chicago with cash to loan me the rest of the money I needed. Thank you Mom; you are wonderful.

While I was waiting, I sat in the lobby of Fifth Third and worked on my Japanese workbook, which I'd packed in my messenger bag. After maybe an hour or so, I was told by security there that I couldn't wait in the bank if I wasn't conducting buisiness. Alright; I went outside and sat on a bench across the street and continued working. After maybe maybe another hour, a man on a bike approached me and started a conversation. He wanted to know why I was there in Dixmoor, a very out of place white boy in a bad part of town. Apparently a number of people were watching me, he said, trying to decide whether I was a cop. We talked for half an hour or so. First about why I got stuck where I was, then about the neighborhood, and about our personal situations. He's turning 60 next year and is divorced and isn't really sure where to go from there; I'm half his age, but recently separated from my long-time partner and feeling a little bit of the same feeling. We talked about cars we used to own, and other parts of the city he thought I should photograph.

He started to get on his bike and drive away, but had a little trouble mounting it and fell over. I took his hand and helped him up and he thanked me, saying that, as much as he'd get made fun of if people saw a 'white-boy' helped him up off the ground, there were a lot of people around there who wouldn't give a damn about somebody falling down and that I was a good guy. "There are a lot of jerks and assholes out there in the world," I told him. "I just try not to be an asshole."

After we talked, he suggested I come with him a block or so east, over by the bus stop, where it was safer. I was in direct sight of a crowd of people waiting for buses there, not in 'that hole' over where I was. I thanked him for the help and the conversation, and he was off. Thanks Payne; you're a good guy too.

Finally, after about twenty minutes of waiting by the bus stop, Farm_cat arrived to save the day. We drove back to the lot and picked up my car. To add insult to injury, there was a $75 ticket for abandonment on the windshield. So in the course of three hours, my car was ticketed and then towed. Thanks a lot, Dixmoor's finest. Admittedly, it was parked in front of a no trespassing sign, but the signs were so old that they were rusting and the name and phone number were blank. Well, lesson learned. Even if it means a walk, next time I'm parking in front of a business or in a residential area.

Mom and I drove back to Rogers Park where I bought her dinner in return for all her help, which is really the least I could do.

I shouldn't be stressed about the money side of things. I can absorb a hit like that better than a lot of people. It mostly means I won't be contributing to my savings account this month. In the grand scheme of things, it could be much worse. But the whole thing is leaving me feeling anxious and frustrated.

I'm going to get a shower and get to bed. I want to write some people (brownkitty, I promise promise promise I didn't forget to send you my contact info!), but I am very sore and stressed and I think I need to go to bed before I'm up to managing much else.

(no subject)

Here's one of my pictures from the power plant. More to come when I'm awake and have time.

This is inside one of the boilers in an abandoned power plant on the south side of Chicago. The composition of this shot sucks. I need to get back and do it again. And I will. Though this has technical flaws, looking at it brings back the feeling of awe I had as I stood in the ash heap on the boiler floor and looked up at the cathedral of piping soaring overhead into the darkness. It was truly beautiful. I need to come back with a lantern so I have the light to compose things the way I want them. (I did this by doing a long exposure and painting the room with a couple of flashlights.) I also need to figure out how to give this a better sense of scale. This chamber was thirty feet and more tall.


Cathedral of Ash

© Stormdog 2010


Good night!