A fading ad on 18th St. near Damen (ca.2014)

18th Street looking east, painted bread advertisement

Schulze, the Butter-Nut Bread company was started in 1893 by Paul. The company changed hands in the 1930's then continued on as something separately maintained under the Interstate Bakeries and Hostess Brands umbrella until '37. After a million miles of change, in November 2012 Hostess finally declared bankruptcy. At this time the newly appointed Chief Executive Officer, Greg cited union wages and pensions as key factors in the brand's liquidation. You go Greg...

The Schulze Baking Company factory is on Garfield at the left edge of Washington Park. The terracotta building eventually became the home for the Hostess Brands until 2004. The Illinois Historic Preservation Agency lists the site as an Industry/Processing/Extraction - processing site. It is not listed as having a golden hue with creamy highlights. It's also not listed as an aimless eyesore left to fuel damage and blight. But it's current owners are likely acquiring the means to sprinkle it with Christmas glitter and permanently bath it's eastern face in the warm soft glow of angel food.

Hello, we've moved on. Paul went on to form the Paul Schulze Biscuit Company later known as, Schulze and Burch. He and his son made a fortune baking Saltines for the war effort. The very first cracker ever ever rolled off one of their mechanized-auto-assembling-bakedoo's right in the heart of Bridgeport on 35th Street. The company still produces enough toaster strudel to cover all of Battle Creek with a crisp golden brown patina.

This is about a faded ad painted on the side of building in Pilsen. Once Schulze Butter-Nut Bread was a brand of staid ubiquity in Chicago. Now it's a footnote lingering between 2 buildings on a magical street searching for fresh purpose. Here's a toast for 18th St. Here's a proverb lovingly crafted for you and for this faded sign... Bread might rise but the baker can rise up.

Let's see you in May.

the highest standards...

Totem

Tonight is old. It's wett but current and bored. I'm watching nothing but stars in the often sky that happen... do... tonight is lame like old, young like song, even as blue... Equal after the sun, noon or scripted yellow you are to me... A we (as sound)

Whiskers, chanting, "swap me, swap me!"

Fig.32) Aging poorly We're just together, taking ourselves for a tidy sum of walk and now our toes are wet and cool in the Lak, beside a cool stone that could drive a modernist to their flint. There's a listening experience that feels prepared, "our's for now, ours it says! Here's the hammer and it's wrapped in its own design already. A union in time-space, this card is our greetings, our massive, our very patience is reflected in this resolve." Suddenly, there's a cut away and she's wearing the pants that I've made for her, slow blue like painted smoke . I'm thinking about her hunched over the kitchen table, something that's stuck. There's a carving knife in her hand but from here, it's the same as an old spoon. From here my computer is sitting on my guilty seat, I'm thinking about champagne and comparing it to a thick wad bees and wondering whats in it for me? It's an anxious season, filled with not enough of anythin

Songlet is Best

fig.0231) FizzGraf MT. "Magical, like a chorus of like minded souls in a froth of cotton fumes." Over fake doors, under refurbished ladders, gypsum board and bent yellow pipes offering us an unmade bed and a stained window. Our one chance at tomorrow. Magnetic guts from at least a thousand cassettes are strewn across the room. Hee-Haw style, fancy dress shoes cling to the floor like it's '86 all over again. Hee-Haw, goes the sound. Hee-Haw, we're closer then we were. Hee-Haw, it's hilarious. Listening for trains, leaning out over the rails like two people with no time at all. Better maps, that's what we need. We could use a melody for singing with this chorus; in whose curious presence more patients wait to be found. With hands over our heads, someone passes by and asks, "gender?" There's stars in this sweet tooth of mine and some atoms left from the sky, Tonight the whole angle of heaven sleeps without light. Ordering its coffee darkest, t

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