#chicago junk yard

[cash-for-junk-cars-chicago]

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[mariocki]

Inspector Morley, Late of Scotland Yard, Investigates: The Case of the Scarlet Letters (1.3, WGN-TV, 1952)

"Mr. Mullins, I have in my possession sixty-eight letters, none of which has begun to outlive its usefulness. I'm quite prepared to admit that blackmail is risky, but then murder has its disadvantages too - that is why I gave up murder."

[wetbananapeel]

.

[wolfjackle-creates]

Oooooh, I love the wip ask game!! You know I'm a fiend for your Answer My Call fic, but... Danny is Vlark's Nephew is calling to me, that sounds like so much fun!

Look out tomorrow night (after 9 pm EST) for Answer My Call! Can you tell how much fun I'm having since this chapter takes place in Boston?

As for Danny is Clark's Nephew. I actually kinda forgot all about this one until I was looking through my "Prompt fills" document. And I followed the link I saved and what I wrote doesn't match it at all? So idk if I saved the wrong link or if I just took the barest bones and went in a totally new direction.

Here's the first 350ish words.

-----

Danny was practically vibrating as he followed Constantine through a random junk yard in Chicago and into a shed. He was going to meet the Justice League! And possibly join them! Totally worth the months he’d spent gathering every piece of John Constantine’s soul.

“All right, your highness. This is the Zeta Tube. They’re expectin’ us. After I make this introduction, we’re even, right? You’re not gonna demand anything else from me?”

“Nope! Your soul back for the chance to meet the Justice League with the potential of joining them. You’ve given them the files I sent you, right?”

“Course. Wouldn’t dream of reneging on a deal with the Ghost Prince.”

Danny laughed. “Sure you would.” Before Constantine could protest, Danny continued, “Now, how does this thing work?”

“You just stand right there. I’ll take care of it.”

Unfortunately, Constantine stood in a way that prevented him from seeing what he did. But then it didn’t matter because the room was filled with a strange energy that bombarded him. It tickled. Danny laughed even as the world spun away from him and reality shifted.

When everything came into focus around him again, he was facing a group of people. But his eyes focused on just one. Someone was talking, but Danny could only stare into equally shocked blue eyes.

“—om. Prince Phantom!” Constantine’s hiss finally got through the ringing in his ears.

Danny looked over at the wizard, but then he heard that clearing of the throat. He looked back at the group that had come to greet him. And there was Uncle Clark, dressed as Superman, standing with his arms crossed, foot tapping, and one eyebrow raised.

“I’m waiting for an explanation,” he said as soon as Danny met his eyes.

Danny opened his mouth. Closed it again. Swallowed. “Um…”

And then Constantine was talking again, thank the Ancients. “Superman, this is Prince Phantom, Crown Prince of the Infinite Realms, defeater of Pariah Dark, defender of—”

“Not you, Constantine.” Uncle Clark continued to stare straight at Danny. “I got a Christmas card from your parents just three months ago. I spoke to you on the phone last month on your sister’s birthday. You were alive then. Why do you suddenly not have a heartbeat.”

[cynicalone94]

Rope Burns

Read on AO3 here.

Hailey gets home and her husband isn’t there and she’s confused and worried. 

Even with her run, she’s over an hour behind him so even if he got her takeout or something he should still be home. Especially since his truck is in his parking space. 

She calls him and he doesn’t answer. She calls Will just to see if he’s with him. Then she calls in a ping on his cellphone. 

And then finds it in their parking lot. And suddenly their poor team who just got off work are back on shift trying to find Jay. 

Again. 

Damn it Halstead, we just wanted one night not working. 

They find a lot of leads and chase them down to a lot of dead ends. Around nine the next morning, everyone is getting tired and frustrated and worried. 

Platt is at her desk working, trying to deal with the everything else going on but also worrying about Jay. A young woman walks into the station and up to her desk.

“Are you Trudy Platt?”

“Who’s asking?”

“You need to search the Winchester Junk Yard.” The woman says without giving a name.

“And what, exactly, is it that we’re searching for?” She asks, looking over her glasses at her.

“Detective Halstead.” She says and Platt looks up to see a cold smirk on her face, “The car I locked him in must be around 105 degrees by now.”

Platt’s eyes go wide with panic as the woman simply turns and walks away. She picks up her phone and calls Voight. 

“I’ve got a lead on Jay. Get down here.” She snaps before hanging up and getting the ball rolling on pulling together officers to search the junkyard. 

The entire Intelligence squad comes thundering down the stairs, Hank at the front. 

“What do we have?” He demands.

“I just had a woman in here telling me he’s locked in a car in the Winchester Junkyard.” She reports. 

“Who?” Hailey demands, looking around. 

“She left.” Platt says dismissively. “If Chuckles is locked in a car somewhere we need to find him. She’s on cameras, we’ll track her down later.”

Hank nods.

“We’re gonna head out and get the ball rolling.” He announces, “Can you get some patrol officers to help with the search?”

“Already working on it.” She promises, “we’ll meet you there.”

Trudy has already made contact with the junkyard to get them access by the time Intelligence rolls up. 

“I’ve got a van rolling through the gates on camera about two am this morning.” The owner says as he meets them at the entrance. “I don’t recognize it and I don’t know how they got in.”

“Any idea where they went from there?” Voight asks. 

“Just toward the stacks. Unfortunately we don’t have cameras out in the yard.”

“We’ll need that footage.” Voight tells him. “Do you have a diagram of the yard? Additional search teams are going to be rolling in soon and we’ll need to track what areas have been searched.” 

“I’ll get it,” the man says, nodding back toward the office. “I’ve got two employees onsite that I can lend to help with the search.”

“Appreciate the offer but given that one of them may be how they got in we can’t risk it.” Voight dismisses, turning back to the team. “Move in pairs. Hailey and Kevin take the left. Kim and Adam move right. Keep your radios on.”

The team heads out and Voight turns back to the owner as he returns carrying a blueprint of the yard. Squad cars start rolling up as they lay it out on the hood of Voight’s SUV. 

Hailey peers through the windows of a blue dodge while Kevin pops the trunk with the pry bar. They’ve been searching for nearly an hour already and there’s been no sign of Jay. 

It’s a relatively cool day for May in Chicago but she knows that inside a vehicle the temperature could still be as high as 120 degrees. Not seeing anything, she turns away from the car, looking to Kevin and sighing as he shakes his head. 

As she moves to the next car, she sees footprints in the dust. Signaling to Kevin to check the next car, she follows them two rows over to a dark blue Honda Civic. The windows are heavily tinted and it isn’t until she’s right up against them that she can see into the car.

“Kevin!” She shouts, “I got him!”

She tries the door as he shouts back, frustrated to find it locked. Jay is lying fully reclined in the driver’s seat, motionless and with his eyes closed. 

“Hang on.” She whispers, “just hang on, Jay. I’m here.”

Kevin reaches her, immediately slotting the pry bar into the gap between the door and the frame. The door gives way easily and he steps back, radioing in the update and requesting EMTs as Hailey leans over Jay, pressing her fingers into his throat. 

The pulse is weak and terrifyingly fast but there and she blinks back tears of relief as she removes the gag from his mouth before turning her attention to his hands. 

Thick ropes have been wound around his forearms, securing them together and to the metal frame of the headrest. 

Kevin opens the rear door and leans in, using his knife to start cutting the ropes away. Hailey mutters a thank you before redirecting her attention. Once the seatbelt has been removed and the steering wheel shifted up she finds steel cables binding his ankles to the pedals.

“Can I get the bolt cutters?” She calls and Kevin passes them over the seat while continuing to cut the ropes away from Jay’s arms. 

There’s a low moan and Hailey looks up to see Jay’s eyes still closed as his head rolls slightly to the side. 

“You’re okay.” She soothes, sliding the bolt cutters into place and cutting his left ankle free. 

“Easy brother.” Kevin says and she looks up to see Jay pulling against him, trying to pull his arms free.

His eyes are still closed but his face is tense. She hurries to cut his right leg free, dropping the bolt cutters to the ground before putting a hand on Jay’s face. 

“Jay?” She whispers. “It’s okay. You’re okay. We’ve got you.”

His only response is a low whine, his head jerking away from her. She pulls her hand back. He’s still trying to yank his arms free and Kevin shakes his head, sheathing his knife and starting to unwinding the ropes to avoid cutting him. 

“I’m guessing disorientation and heat aren’t a good combination for him.” He says, catching her eyes. “His arms are already torn to hell from trying to get loose.”

“Jay.” She repeats, resisting the urge to touch him again, “it’s Hailey. You’re in Chicago. Kevin’s working on getting you loose and we’ll get you cooled down real soon.” 

She hears motion behind her and turns to see paramedics wheeling a stretcher toward them. 

She turns back to Jay to find him still again, head dropping to the side. Kevin pulls the last of the ropes away from his arms and they drop. Hailey helps maneuver them to his lap and then she and Kevin sit the seat up. Jay tips forward and Hailey catches him, letting him rest against her. 

“I got you.” She whispers, running fingers through the sweaty hair at the back of his neck. 

He doesn’t react and she presses her fingers into his pulse point, finding it even weaker than before.

“Pulse is barely there and way too fast.” She tells the paramedics as they reach them.

With Kevin’s help they are able to get him out of the car and onto the stretcher.

A rectal temperature check comes back with 105.7 degrees and he is quickly stripped out of his jeans and t-shirt. 

The paramedics work quickly, getting  ice packs nestled into his armpits and groin before draping a cooling blanket over his frame. 

True to Kevin’s words, his forearms are shredded from his struggles against the ropes, forcing the paramedics to start their IV in his neck.

An oxygen mask is fitted over his face while the junior paramedic checks his vitals. Hailey takes his hand. 

They get him loaded into the ambulance and Hailey jumps up alongside, never relinquishing her grip on his hand. His skin is heated and dry and she rubs her thumb over it while studying his face as he breathes in shallow pants. 

When they arrive at Med, he’s taken directly to the OR, Will holding her back and saying things she doesn’t understand about lavages, ARDS and kidney function.

Its several hours before Hailey finds herself being shown to his bedside. He’s still moving erratically and she’s devastated to see soft restraints fastened over the thick bandages covering his forearms. 

She knows Will wouldn’t have allowed it to happen if it wasn’t necessary for the safety of the hospital staff and their presence speaks volumes to the emotional turmoil he’s experiencing under the surface. 

The IV line is still running into his neck, providing a constant flow of saline and whatever medications the doctors deem will help. She glances up at the monitors, pleased to find his heart rate back in normal range and his temperature down to a low 100.

“He got here just in time.” Will says behind her. “But he’s going to be okay. Kidney function is improving steadily and he’s breathing better.”

“When can the restraints come off?” 

 “Normally, it would be as soon as we can get him awake and lucid.” he hedges. “But he’s disoriented and hot and its triggering some incredibly vivid flashbacks. As much as I hate it, they should probably stay on until we can get his temperature fully stable. And that might be tomorrow or even the day after. It’s going to stay a little higher than normal, with the occasional spike at least that long.”

She nods, finally stepping forward and curling her fingers around his hand. His skin is warm, more so than usual, but much less than it had been in the car and its no longer as dry as it had been. 

He jerks his hand away from her, their fingers just barely touching when the restraints bring him up short. His head tosses from side to side as he mutters incoherently. Tears spark in her eyes as she pulls her hand back. 

Will steps forward, hand curling gently around the back of his brother’s neck, fingers tangling in the hair at the base of his neck. 

“Shhh.” he hushes, “It’s okay, Jay.”

Jay stills but Hailey can still see the tension and fear thrumming through his muscles. Then Will starts talking again, his tone a slow, steady cadence as he recites what Hailey realizes is a poem

She watches, a small smile forming on her face as the tension slowly leeches from her husband as his brother talks. Will repeats the words twice before Jay is finally calm, sleeping peacefully. 

“I learned it in high school.” Will says after a moment, keeping his voice smooth and even. “Had to memorize it for an English class. Jay had a massive panic attack at mom’s funeral. And I couldn’t… nothing I said seemed to get through to him. So I just… started reciting it. It took a minute but it calmed him down. He swears to this day that its just that its so lame that it has to be me which helps him remember he’s back in the states.”

Hailey huffs a wet laugh at that, tugging forward a chair for Will to sit in before towing one up next to it for herself. 

“It’s sweet.” she says, “He’s lucky to have you.”

“He wasn’t always.” Will says, eyes fixed on his brother’s face, “Especially since there was a time when he didn’t really have me. I let so much distance form when I went to college.”

“The past can’t change.” Hailey tells him, “And it can’t change us anymore unless we let it. You’re here now. It means a lot to him.”

Will sits back, letting his hand fall on the bed next to his brother’s, their fingers not quite touching. 

“Not enough to invite me to your wedding.” he jokes. 

“You were working.” Hailey scoffs, taking up Jay’s line in an oft rehearsed argument between the brothers. 

“I could have gotten someone to cover for me for thirty minutes.” Will whines. 

“You were invited to the cheesy ring ceremony we had for everyone.” Hailey reminds. 

“And drank most of the champagne.” Jay tiredly interjects from the bed and they look over to see him looking at them through hooded eyelids. 

“You bought good champagne.” Will says with a shrug as he slides his hand closer to brush against his brother’s. “How do you feel?”

“Toasty.” Jay whispers. “What happened?”

“Some psycho locked you in a car on a bright, sunny May morning.” Hailey says, leaning forward to put a hand on his leg. 

“I hurt anybody?” he asks, eyes flickering to the restraints. 

“You didn’t.” Will is quick to assure. “But you had a doozy of a flashback in PACU so, better safe than sorry. Sorry.”

“S’okay.” Jay says, glancing around. “When can they come off?”

“We’re still working on getting your temperature stabilized.” Will says hesitantly, “You’re still a lot warmer than we’re happy with. And there’s expected to be at least one major spike before everything’s said and done.”

Jay just nods. 

“Why don’t you try to sleep?” his brother sf4uggests. “You’ve been through the wringer.”

“Hot.” Jay says, eyes slipping closed before blinking back open. 

“I’ll get you some fresh ice packs.” Will tells him. “Don’t fight it, okay? Just let yourself sleep.”

“K.” Jay breathes out, eyes falling closed. 

Hailey takes his hand again, pleased when he doesn’t fight her or try to pull away this time. 

“He’s okay.” Will tells her, a hand resting briefly on her shoulder, “I’m gonna go get some more ice. You good here?”

“Yeah.” she says, smiling at Jay’s peaceful face, “Yeah, I’m good.”

[miranda-javid]

Howl

BY ALLEN GINSBERG

For Carl Solomon

I

I saw the best minds of my generation destroyed by madness, starving hysterical naked,

dragging themselves through the negro streets at dawn looking for an angry fix,

angelheaded hipsters burning for the ancient heavenly connection to the starry dynamo in the machinery of night,

who poverty and tatters and hollow-eyed and high sat up smoking in the supernatural darkness of cold-water flats floating across the tops of cities contemplating jazz,

who bared their brains to Heaven under the El and saw Mohammedan angels staggering on tenement roofs illuminated,

who passed through universities with radiant cool eyes hallucinating Arkansas and Blake-light tragedy among the scholars of war,

who were expelled from the academies for crazy & publishing obscene odes on the windows of the skull,

who cowered in unshaven rooms in underwear, burning their money in wastebaskets and listening to the Terror through the wall,

who got busted in their pubic beards returning through Laredo with a belt of marijuana for New York,

who ate fire in paint hotels or drank turpentine in Paradise Alley, death, or purgatoried their torsos night after night

with dreams, with drugs, with waking nightmares, alcohol and cock and endless balls,

incomparable blind streets of shuddering cloud and lightning in the mind leaping toward poles of Canada & Paterson, illuminating all the motionless world of Time between,

Peyote solidities of halls, backyard green tree cemetery dawns, wine drunkenness over the rooftops, storefront boroughs of teahead joyride neon blinking traffic light, sun and moon and tree vibrations in the roaring winter dusks of Brooklyn, ashcan rantings and kind king light of mind,

who chained themselves to subways for the endless ride from Battery to holy Bronx on benzedrine until the noise of wheels and children brought them down shuddering mouth-wracked and battered bleak of brain all drained of brilliance in the drear light of Zoo,

who sank all night in submarine light of Bickford’s floated out and sat through the stale beer afternoon in desolate Fugazzi’s, listening to the crack of doom on the hydrogen jukebox,

who talked continuously seventy hours from park to pad to bar to Bellevue to museum to the Brooklyn Bridge,

a lost battalion of platonic conversationalists jumping down the stoops off fire escapes off windowsills off Empire State out of the moon,

yacketayakking screaming vomiting whispering facts and memories and anecdotes and eyeball kicks and shocks of hospitals and jails and wars,

whole intellects disgorged in total recall for seven days and nights with brilliant eyes, meat for the Synagogue cast on the pavement,

who vanished into nowhere Zen New Jersey leaving a trail of ambiguous picture postcards of Atlantic City Hall,

suffering Eastern sweats and Tangerian bone-grindings and migraines of China under junk-withdrawal in Newark’s bleak furnished room,   

who wandered around and around at midnight in the railroad yard wondering where to go, and went, leaving no broken hearts,

who lit cigarettes in boxcars boxcars boxcars racketing through snow toward lonesome farms in grandfather night,

who studied Plotinus Poe St. John of the Cross telepathy and bop kabbalah because the cosmos instinctively vibrated at their feet in Kansas,   

who loned it through the streets of Idaho seeking visionary indian angels who were visionary indian angels,

who thought they were only mad when Baltimore gleamed in supernatural ecstasy,

who jumped in limousines with the Chinaman of Oklahoma on the impulse of winter midnight streetlight smalltown rain,

who lounged hungry and lonesome through Houston seeking jazz or sex or soup, and followed the brilliant Spaniard to converse about America and Eternity, a hopeless task, and so took ship to Africa,

who disappeared into the volcanoes of Mexico leaving behind nothing but the shadow of dungarees and the lava and ash of poetry scattered in fireplace Chicago,

who reappeared on the West Coast investigating the FBI in beards and shorts with big pacifist eyes sexy in their dark skin passing out incomprehensible leaflets,

who burned cigarette holes in their arms protesting the narcotic tobacco haze of Capitalism,

who distributed Supercommunist pamphlets in Union Square weeping and undressing while the sirens of Los Alamos wailed them down, and wailed down Wall, and the Staten Island ferry also wailed,

who broke down crying in white gymnasiums naked and trembling before the machinery of other skeletons,

who bit detectives in the neck and shrieked with delight in policecars for committing no crime but their own wild cooking pederasty and intoxication,

who howled on their knees in the subway and were dragged off the roof waving genitals and manuscripts,

who let themselves be fucked in the ass by saintly motorcyclists, and screamed with joy,

who blew and were blown by those human seraphim, the sailors, caresses of Atlantic and Caribbean love,

who balled in the morning in the evenings in rosegardens and the grass of public parks and cemeteries scattering their semen freely to whomever come who may,

who hiccuped endlessly trying to giggle but wound up with a sob behind a partition in a Turkish Bath when the blond & naked angel came to pierce them with a sword,

who lost their loveboys to the three old shrews of fate the one eyed shrew of the heterosexual dollar the one eyed shrew that winks out of the womb and the one eyed shrew that does nothing but sit on her ass and snip the intellectual golden threads of the craftsman’s loom,

who copulated ecstatic and insatiate with a bottle of beer a sweetheart a package of cigarettes a candle and fell off the bed, and continued along the floor and down the hall and ended fainting on the wall with a vision of ultimate cunt and come eluding the last gyzym of consciousness,

who sweetened the snatches of a million girls trembling in the sunset, and were red eyed in the morning but prepared to sweeten the snatch of the sunrise, flashing buttocks under barns and naked in the lake,

who went out whoring through Colorado in myriad stolen night-cars, N.C., secret hero of these poems, cocksman and Adonis of Denver—joy to the memory of his innumerable lays of girls in empty lots & diner backyards, moviehouses’ rickety rows, on mountaintops in caves or with gaunt waitresses in familiar roadside lonely petticoat upliftings & especially secret gas-station solipsisms of johns, & hometown alleys too,

who faded out in vast sordid movies, were shifted in dreams, woke on a sudden Manhattan, and picked themselves up out of basements hung-over with heartless Tokay and horrors of Third Avenue iron dreams & stumbled to unemployment offices,

who walked all night with their shoes full of blood on the snowbank docks waiting for a door in the East River to open to a room full of steam-heat and opium,

who created great suicidal dramas on the apartment cliff-banks of the Hudson under the wartime blue floodlight of the moon & their heads shall be crowned with laurel in oblivion,

who ate the lamb stew of the imagination or digested the crab at the muddy bottom of the rivers of Bowery,

who wept at the romance of the streets with their pushcarts full of onions and bad music,

who sat in boxes breathing in the darkness under the bridge, and rose up to build harpsichords in their lofts,

who coughed on the sixth floor of Harlem crowned with flame under the tubercular sky surrounded by orange crates of theology,

who scribbled all night rocking and rolling over lofty incantations which in the yellow morning were stanzas of gibberish,

who cooked rotten animals lung heart feet tail borsht & tortillas dreaming of the pure vegetable kingdom,

who plunged themselves under meat trucks looking for an egg,

who threw their watches off the roof to cast their ballot for Eternity outside of Time, & alarm clocks fell on their heads every day for the next decade,

who cut their wrists three times successively unsuccessfully, gave up and were forced to open antique stores where they thought they were growing old and cried,

who were burned alive in their innocent flannel suits on Madison Avenue amid blasts of leaden verse & the tanked-up clatter of the iron regiments of fashion & the nitroglycerine shrieks of the fairies of advertising & the mustard gas of sinister intelligent editors, or were run down by the drunken taxicabs of Absolute Reality,

who jumped off the Brooklyn Bridge this actually happened and walked away unknown and forgotten into the ghostly daze of Chinatown soup alleyways & firetrucks, not even one free beer,

who sang out of their windows in despair, fell out of the subway window, jumped in the filthy Passaic, leaped on negroes, cried all over the street, danced on broken wineglasses barefoot smashed phonograph records of nostalgic European 1930s German jazz finished the whiskey and threw up groaning into the bloody toilet, moans in their ears and the blast of colossal steamwhistles,

who barreled down the highways of the past journeying to each other’s hotrod-Golgotha jail-solitude watch or Birmingham jazz incarnation,

who drove crosscountry seventytwo hours to find out if I had a vision or you had a vision or he had a vision to find out Eternity,

who journeyed to Denver, who died in Denver, who came back to Denver & waited in vain, who watched over Denver & brooded & loned in Denver and finally went away to find out the Time, & now Denver is lonesome for her heroes,

who fell on their knees in hopeless cathedrals praying for each other’s salvation and light and breasts, until the soul illuminated its hair for a second,

who crashed through their minds in jail waiting for impossible criminals with golden heads and the charm of reality in their hearts who sang sweet blues to Alcatraz,

who retired to Mexico to cultivate a habit, or Rocky Mount to tender Buddha or Tangiers to boys or Southern Pacific to the black locomotive or Harvard to Narcissus to Woodlawn to the daisychain or grave,

who demanded sanity trials accusing the radio of hypnotism & were left with their insanity & their hands & a hung jury,

who threw potato salad at CCNY lecturers on Dadaism and subsequently presented themselves on the granite steps of the madhouse with shaven heads and harlequin speech of suicide, demanding instantaneous lobotomy,

and who were given instead the concrete void of insulin Metrazol electricity hydrotherapy psychotherapy occupational therapy pingpong & amnesia,

who in humorless protest overturned only one symbolic pingpong table, resting briefly in catatonia,

returning years later truly bald except for a wig of blood, and tears and fingers, to the visible madman doom of the wards of the madtowns of the East,

Pilgrim State’s Rockland’s and Greystone’s foetid halls, bickering with the echoes of the soul, rocking and rolling in the midnight solitude-bench dolmen-realms of love, dream of life a nightmare, bodies turned to stone as heavy as the moon,

with mother finally ******, and the last fantastic book flung out of the tenement window, and the last door closed at 4 A.M. and the last telephone slammed at the wall in reply and the last furnished room emptied down to the last piece of mental furniture, a yellow paper rose twisted on a wire hanger in the closet, and even that imaginary, nothing but a hopeful little bit of hallucination—

ah, Carl, while you are not safe I am not safe, and now you’re really in the total animal soup of time—

and who therefore ran through the icy streets obsessed with a sudden flash of the alchemy of the use of the ellipsis catalogue a variable measure and the vibrating plane,

who dreamt and made incarnate gaps in Time & Space through images juxtaposed, and trapped the archangel of the soul between 2 visual images and joined the elemental verbs and set the noun and dash of consciousness together jumping with sensation of Pater Omnipotens Aeterna Deus

to recreate the syntax and measure of poor human prose and stand before you speechless and intelligent and shaking with shame, rejected yet confessing out the soul to conform to the rhythm of thought in his naked and endless head,

the madman bum and angel beat in Time, unknown, yet putting down here what might be left to say in time come after death,

and rose reincarnate in the ghostly clothes of jazz in the goldhorn shadow of the band and blew the suffering of America’s naked mind for love into an eli eli lamma lamma sabacthani saxophone cry that shivered the cities down to the last radio

with the absolute heart of the poem of life butchered out of their own bodies good to eat a thousand years.

II

What sphinx of cement and aluminum bashed open their skulls and ate up their brains and imagination?

Moloch! Solitude! Filth! Ugliness! Ashcans and unobtainable dollars! Children screaming under the stairways! Boys sobbing in armies! Old men weeping in the parks!

Moloch! Moloch! Nightmare of Moloch! Moloch the loveless! Mental Moloch! Moloch the heavy judger of men!

Moloch the incomprehensible prison! Moloch the crossbone soulless jailhouse and Congress of sorrows! Moloch whose buildings are judgment! Moloch the vast stone of war! Moloch the stunned governments!

Moloch whose mind is pure machinery! Moloch whose blood is running money! Moloch whose fingers are ten armies! Moloch whose breast is a cannibal dynamo! Moloch whose ear is a smoking tomb!

Moloch whose eyes are a thousand blind windows! Moloch whose skyscrapers stand in the long streets like endless Jehovahs! Moloch whose factories dream and croak in the fog! Moloch whose smoke-stacks and antennae crown the cities!

Moloch whose love is endless oil and stone! Moloch whose soul is electricity and banks! Moloch whose poverty is the specter of genius! Moloch whose fate is a cloud of sexless hydrogen! Moloch whose name is the Mind!

Moloch in whom I sit lonely! Moloch in whom I dream Angels! Crazy in Moloch! Cocksucker in Moloch! Lacklove and manless in Moloch!

Moloch who entered my soul early! Moloch in whom I am a consciousness without a body! Moloch who frightened me out of my natural ecstasy! Moloch whom I abandon! Wake up in Moloch! Light streaming out of the sky!

Moloch! Moloch! Robot apartments! invisible suburbs! skeleton treasuries! blind capitals! demonic industries! spectral nations! invincible madhouses! granite cocks! monstrous bombs!

They broke their backs lifting Moloch to Heaven! Pavements, trees, radios, tons! lifting the city to Heaven which exists and is everywhere about us!

Visions! omens! hallucinations! miracles! ecstasies! gone down the American river!

Dreams! adorations! illuminations! religions! the whole boatload of sensitive bullshit!

Breakthroughs! over the river! flips and crucifixions! gone down the flood! Highs! Epiphanies! Despairs! Ten years’ animal screams and suicides! Minds! New loves! Mad generation! down on the rocks of Time!

Real holy laughter in the river! They saw it all! the wild eyes! the holy yells! They bade farewell! They jumped off the roof! to solitude! waving! carrying flowers! Down to the river! into the street!

III

Carl Solomon! I’m with you in Rockland

   where you’re madder than I am

I’m with you in Rockland

   where you must feel very strange

I’m with you in Rockland

   where you imitate the shade of my mother

I’m with you in Rockland

   where you’ve murdered your twelve secretaries

I’m with you in Rockland

   where you laugh at this invisible humor

I’m with you in Rockland

   where we are great writers on the same dreadful typewriter

I’m with you in Rockland

   where your condition has become serious and is reported on the radio

I’m with you in Rockland

   where the faculties of the skull no longer admit the worms of the senses

I'm with you in Rockland

   where you drink the tea of the breasts of the spinsters of Utica

I’m with you in Rockland

   where you pun on the bodies of your nurses the harpies of the Bronx

I’m with you in Rockland

   where you scream in a straightjacket that you’re losing the game of the actual pingpong of the abyss

I’m with you in Rockland

   where you bang on the catatonic piano the soul is innocent and immortal it should never die ungodly in an armed madhouse

I’m with you in Rockland

   where fifty more shocks will never return your soul to its body again from its pilgrimage to a cross in the void

I’m with you in Rockland

   where you accuse your doctors of insanity and plot the Hebrew socialist revolution against the fascist national Golgotha

I’m with you in Rockland

   where you will split the heavens of Long Island and resurrect your living human Jesus from the superhuman tomb

I’m with you in Rockland

   where there are twentyfive thousand mad comrades all together singing the final stanzas of the Internationale

I’m with you in Rockland

   where we hug and kiss the United States under our bedsheets the United States that coughs all night and won’t let us sleep

I’m with you in Rockland

   where we wake up electrified out of the coma by our own souls’ airplanes roaring over the roof they’ve come to drop angelic bombs the hospital illuminates itself    imaginary walls collapse    O skinny legions run outside    O starry-spangled shock of mercy the eternal war is here    O victory forget your underwear we’re free

I’m with you in Rockland

   in my dreams you walk dripping from a sea-journey on the highway across America in tears to the door of my cottage in the Western night

[606-junk]

Junk Pick Up In Chicago

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Shopping for auto parts from junk yards in Crestwood, Illinois

When you shop for auto parts in Crestwood, IL, you can save lots of money in the long term. Junk yards in the Chicago area usually have an array of used components at low prices. Shopping at a local junkyard could be a pleasant and easy experience. The sales staff at such venues will quickly find any compatible auto parts for your car.

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Chicago Cash for Junk Cars: Turning Clunkers into Cold Hard Cash

In the bustling urban landscape of Chicago, where history and innovation converge, the opportunity to turn clunkers into cold hard cash through Chicago cash for junk cars is a golden ticket to financial liberation. Navigating the vibrant market of cash for junk cars in Chicago requires a savvy approach that aligns with the city's dynamic spirit. This comprehensive guide unveils the art of transforming clunkers into cash in the Windy City, offering essential insights, expert guidance, and actionable steps to help you turn your old vehicles into a lucrative source of cold hard cash.

Embracing the Chicago Advantage

Urban Diversity and Resilience

Chicago's unique blend of urban diversity and resilience sets the stage for turning clunkers into cash. The city's multicultural tapestry and steadfast determination create an environment where financial opportunities are as diverse as the neighborhoods themselves. By embracing this advantage, you tap into a market where resourcefulness and innovation drive successful ventures.

Thriving Automotive Scene

In a city known for its love affair with automobiles, Chicago's thriving automotive scene is undeniable. From classic cars to modern marvels, the city's automotive enthusiasts fuel a dynamic market for cash for junk cars. Whether you're seeking to declutter your garage or seize a profitable opportunity, Chicago's automotive landscape offers a promising avenue.

Navigating the Clunker Transformation

Evaluation and Appraisal

Before embarking on your journey to turn clunkers into cash, a comprehensive evaluation is essential. Expert appraisers assess your vehicle's condition, make, model, and salvage potential. This assessment forms the foundation for determining the best course of action to unlock the maximum value from your clunker.

Efficient Salvage and Disposal

Efficiently salvaging usable components and responsibly disposing of the rest is a crucial step in the process. Engines, parts, and materials can find new life, contributing to both your financial gain and Chicago's commitment to sustainability. Partnering with reputable salvage yards and recycling facilities ensures a responsible and profitable transformation.

Streamlined Transactions

The art of turning clunkers into cash involves streamlined transactions that align with Chicago's fast-paced lifestyle. Clear communication and straightforward negotiations simplify the process. Engaging with reputable buyers who prioritize transparency ensures a swift and hassle-free exchange of your clunker for cold hard cash.

Maximizing Cash Returns

Repurposing and Upcycling

In line with Chicago's creative spirit, repurposing and upcycling offer innovative avenues for turning clunkers into cash. Salvaged components can be transformed into functional or artistic creations, from furniture to sculptures. Embracing Chicago's artistic essence adds a touch of ingenuity to your cash transformation journey.

Community Engagement

Chicago's sense of community extends to the world of clunker transformation. Participating in local events, craft fairs, and upcycling workshops fosters connections, sparks creativity, and adds a social dimension to your cash for junk cars venture.

Supporting Local Initiatives

Turning clunkers into cash can also contribute to Chicago's local economy. Collaborating with local artisans, craftsmen, and entrepreneurs who specialize in repurposing and upcycling fosters economic growth and supports the city's spirit of innovation.

Collaborating with Local Experts

Automotive Advisors

Navigating Chicago's cash for junk cars market is enriched by collaboration with local automotive advisors. Seasoned experts offer insights into salvage techniques, market trends, and upcycling strategies. Partnering with these advisors ensures that you make informed decisions and maximize your financial gains.

Legal Consultants

Chicago's commitment to responsible practices extends to the process of turning clunkers into cash. Collaborating with legal consultants ensures that your transactions adhere to local regulations, safeguard your rights, and guarantee a legitimate and seamless financial endeavor.

Conclusion

Turning clunkers into cold hard cash in the vibrant city of Chicago is a journey of resourcefulness, innovation, and financial empowerment. This guide has illuminated the art of transforming clunkers into cash, emphasizing the advantages of Chicago's urban diversity, thriving automotive scene, streamlined transactions, and collaboration with local experts. By following these steps and approaching the process with confidence, you can navigate Chicago's dynamic automotive landscape and turn your clunkers into a valuable source of cold hard cash.

[newsakd]

[ad_1] A pre-dawn fire burned up nearly 20 cars in an auto parts junk yard in Englewood. Nobody was hurt during the blaze, which started about 2:55 a.m. at 620 W. 59th St., said Chicago Fire Chief Curtis Hudson. After chasing hot spots for nearly three hours, crews extinguished it about 5:45 a.m., Hudson said. “We have no idea what started it,” Hudson said. “There’s no telling.”The Office of Fire Investigation was on the scene.  window.fbAsyncInit = function() FB.init( appId : '425672421661236', xfbml : true, version : 'v2.9' ); ; (function(d, s, id) var js, fjs = d.getElementsByTagName(s)[0]; if (d.getElementById(id)) return; js = d.createElement(s); js.id = id; js.src = " fjs.parentNode.insertBefore(js, fjs); (document, 'script', 'facebook-jssdk')); [ad_2] Source link

[cash-for-junk-cars-2023]

Unlock the Easy Way to Junk Your Car in Chicago: Cash For Junk Cars Chicago -

In the past, selling a junk car in Chicago was a daunting task. Dealing with unreliable auto salvage yards and questionable buyers made the process a nightmare. But fear not! With our extensive expertise and experience in the field of junk and scrap car removal, we bring you the simplest solution to part ways with your old scrap car in the Windy City.

Introducing Cash For Junk Cars Chicago - Junk My Car Inc., the premier junk car removal and auto salvage company in Chicago. We are dedicated to providing the best-selling experience for all our valued junk car sellers. Say goodbye to the frustrations of dealing with untrustworthy parties and welcome a hassle-free transaction that ensures you get a fair deal for your junk car.

At Cash For Junk Cars Chicago - Junk My Car Inc., our mission is to revolutionise the junk car selling process in Chicago and its surrounding areas. We understand the importance of a seamless selling experience, which is why we prioritise customer service and maintain complete transparency throughout our process. You can trust us to provide a fair price for your scrap car or junk car in Chicago.

With Cash For Junk Cars - Junk My Car Inc., you no longer have to worry about the complexities and uncertainties of selling your junk car. Our dedicated team of professionals is here to guide you every step of the way. We handle all the paperwork and logistics, ensuring a smooth and stress-free process for you.

Don't let your old scrap car take up valuable space any longer. Contact Cash For Junk Cars Chicago - Junk My Car Inc. today and experience the effortless way to junk your car in Chicago. Say goodbye to the headaches and hello to a fair price for your vehicle. Trust us to provide the best selling experience, putting your satisfaction at the forefront.

Don't delay - turn your junk car into cash today with Cash For Junk Cars Chicago - Junk My Car Inc. The reliable auto salvage solution you've been waiting for is just a phone call away!

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JUNK REMOVAL SERVICES Naperville IL

Junk Trash Furniture Appliance Yard Waste Removal Hauling Recycling in Elgin IL| Chicago Couch Removal

Chicago Couch Removal specializes in Joliet IL area junk removal service. We are dedicated to providing hauling trash furniture appliance yard waste removal services at fair and reasonable prices. Free estimates. Call today or check our website for more information.

JUNK REMOVAL SERVICES Naperville IL

Chicago Couch Removal: Your Trusted Source for Professional Couch Removal Services in Elgin IL

Chicago Couch Removal is a professional couch removal service that has been providing reliable and efficient services to clients in Elgin IL and the surrounding areas for several years. Our team of highly trained experts is committed to providing top-notch services to ensure that our clients get the best value for their money.

As a leading couch removal service, we understand how frustrating it can be to have a bulky, old couch taking up valuable space in your home or office. That's why we offer a range of affordable and convenient services to help you get rid of your old couch quickly and easily. Whether you need couch pickup and disposal or transportation and recycling, we have got you covered.

Our Services

At Chicago Couch Removal, we offer a range of services to meet the varying needs of our clients. Here are some of the services that we offer:

Couch Pickup and Removal

If you have a couch that you need to dispose of, our team can come to your location, remove your couch from your home or office, and dispose of it in an eco-friendly manner. Our team will ensure that your couch is handled with the utmost care and attention to detail, so you can trust us to provide you with a reliable and efficient service.

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Mattress Removal Companies

They take a little more work than tossing it next to the dumpster however all that effort pays off in the long run. One approach to do away with an old mattress as a substitute of filling up our landfills is to try to promote it. After you might have made sure it is clear you'll find a way to attempt a web site similar to Craigslist or eBay, even a Facebook yard sale site. You may even go old fashioned and submit an ad in the newspaper or include it in a garage sale. As a lot as you might like, it isn't okay to eliminate a mattress by setting it on hearth.

If you allow an infested mattress for a pickup service to gather outside, go away a note about the mattress bugs or mark it up so that it’s no longer usable. That way, nobody might be tempted to claim what seems to be serviceable furniture. Our mattress disposal process is straightforward, efficient and green.

Typically, you cannot set a mattress out at the curb on a regular trash day and expect your waste company to select it up. However, some waste management corporations supply particular “heavy trash” days during which you may have the ability to set massive items like mattresses out for pick-up. Others enable clients one free heavy trash pick-up each year. If you can't donate your mattress or recycle it through a recycling center, you can also think about reusing it. The best way to reuse a bed is solely to move it to a different room in your home to create an extra place for visitors to sleep once they visit. Even inserting your mattress within the basement can increase your internet hosting skills.

There are additionally some supplies that can't be recycled in any respect. It’s finest to dispose of an old mattress in probably the most eco-friendly method possible. The trick right here is to rearrange in your new mattress to be delivered before you progress. This option will work finest for a local move, since you’ll end up having to maneuver your new mattress anyway. If you’re transferring far away, or just don’t want to deal with the headache of transporting a brand new mattress, this isn’t your best wager.

One of our teams at Junk Doctors and we are going to gladly remedy your mattress removal wants. Sometimes your best option for disposing of an old mattress is to simply throw it away. You’ll need to verify along with your city’s native mattress disposal laws, so as to ensure you eliminate the mattress correctly. You also wants to ask if there’s a mattress removal or disposal charge, so you understand what to anticipate. The City of Chicago does provide for bulky merchandise choose ups, but this comes with a couple necessary questions.

When you have to replace a mattress to suit your change of requirements, then it could be worth contemplating reselling your old bed. The Salvation Army - Certain branches of the Salvation Army can help with mattress disposal. They do have strict guidelines old mattress removal about how to donate a mattress in correct situations, so guarantee your mattress is free from damage earlier than you sign up for donation. It’s most likely time to consider your choices for mattress disposal.

Residents also can find different free everlasting mattress collections on ByeByeMattress.com. Thousands of residents have taken advantage of those free providers, and you'll, too! County residents also wants to contact their waste hauler at no cost bulky item choose up providers. Bottom line, there is not any purpose for any County resident to should unnecessarily pay for a mattress collection mattresses okc. The fact is, mattresses don’t break down simply and discovering an option to recycle your used mattress saves much-needed area in landfills and is a lot better for the environment. There are some recycling firms that can reuse many components of the old mattress – wooden, steel, cotton, box springs, foam – repurposing these components into new merchandise.

If your mattress and field spring are in good situation, considerdonating them. Otherwise, the City’s Junk Pickup Program is a free handy approach to eliminate old mattresses, field springs, futons, and mattress toppers. You can opt for in-home setup plus old mattress haul away with the purchase of a mattress at checkout, which will embrace the removal of your old mattress. The fee for in-home setup plus old mattress haul away is $150 and will present the setup of your new mattress as properly as the removal of the old. In-home mattress setup plus old mattress haul away is just available for our mattresses right now.

Bear in thoughts that there may be a cost for taking away your old mattress even though you’ve bought a model new one from that firm, so at all times examine the T&Cs first. Leaving something this sizeable out for the refuse collectors isn’t an possibility. A sturdy, high-quality mattress will hold you feeling comfortable and well-supported for years to come— and a few, like Hastens, may final generations. Cheaper mattresses may old mattress removal depart you feeling uncomfortable and even in pain after only some years and require replacement. That’s why it’s so essential to spend as much as you comfortably can on an excellent mattress that can last. Once moved outdoors, clearly label that the mattress is infested to deter anybody who may be tempted to rehome your item earlier than waste disposal picks it up.

When you want a mattress removal, we are able to usually be out and in in a couple of minutes. Once you have your guaranteed worth estimate from your Junk Expert, all you have to do is have your telephone handy the morning or afternoon of the mattress pick up. For the fastest guaranteed value estimate in your mattress removal, Live Chat with a Junk Expert in the bottom proper nook.

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