After a few more questions, Professor Nobody asked Malison where he saw this postmodern metafictional movement headed, and Malison just picked up his books and papers and said, “Anywhere but here,” and walked out of the room. He meant anywhere but the small world of academia, but it went right over everyone’s head. After he walked out, I picked up my shit and walked out too, but Malison had already left the building. I haven’t been able to find him anywhere.

9:19. I’m sitting in the cocktail lounge of The Chesterton, a grotesque, brassy place ironically named Reflections, which erroneously suggests that I will see myself mirrored in this bar or any of its customers. I sit at a table, pull out my journal, and, when the waitress arrives, I order a boilermaker. The waitress acts shocked that a woman might order a beer and a shot rather than some frozen daiquiri product, and I shoot her a look that sends her off toward a group of people she thinks might find her cute.

Malison’s reading is starting right at this moment, I can sense it. I think it’s very appropriate, very revealing that right now he is standing before an audience of people who don’t understand him, and at the same time I’m sitting in this bar full of people who, I am certain, have no hope of ever knowing or understanding me. It’s a lonely feeling, but I’d rather be alone than stoop to a lower level of understanding. The waitress brings me my shot and my beer and gives me a look while I empty the shot glass into the beer. She acts as though I’m spoiling all her fun. Whatever fun she might have working in a place like this, leading her dull, unexamined life, she is more than welcome to. She can have it. The customers are all looking at me the same way. They can’t deal with anyone who isn’t into their Mr. and Mrs. Jovial scene, with someone who takes a hard look at the crumbling building blocks that are the foundation for their wasted suburban lives. With someone like me.

This place reminds me of the bar that Malison depicted in Magnetic Plugs, except the people are fully dressed and they’re not drinking out of gas cans. The waitress returns and I order another boilermaker.