he gig at Myopic Books was well-attended and within stumbling distance of both The Liquid Kitty, which is an artificially swank club, and Eric and Kitty’s, who are Scott’s friends, where we crashed after making our way through a fifth of Bushmill’s. We read at Borders and all three of us stole books. Then there was a poetry slam at the Green Mill which Scott won, even though his poem was clearly a spontaneous plagiarism of Audre Lorde. Then there was a fight. But we escaped with our only injuries being a broken pencil. We liked the neighborhood so much, we later opened our office there. Though we were in no position to pay the lease on the office that first trip. We tried to get the MacArthur people to give us grants. But it didn’t work. So we went to Madison.