I said shut up.
Let’s get right to the cut: tell me about Malort, and why on God’s earth do you make me drink it every time I’m in Chicago, and why on God’s earth do I drink it, even though I know it’s the official drink of Hell?
Malort is the official drink of making people who aren’t from Chicago drink it. Generally a night that involves Malort is a good night. Technically, Malort is supposed to be spelled with an umlaut over the “o,” though God only knows why. Besides, umlauts are a pain to type, so to hell with it.
There’s a genre of youtube videos called “malort face.” The idea is, you give someone who hasn’t had Malort before a shot of Malort, and you film it. Like most good ideas, it’s pretty straightforward. The taste of Malort has been described as “like a tire fire,” “like someone just laid asphalt on your tongue,” “like the souls of dead orphans.” The bottle describes its taste as “a unique botanical,” and notes that it is a favorite of “two-fisted drinkers everywhere.” You can only buy Malort in Chicago, which is probably good for the future of the species.
It really is a terrible concoction. The only reason I drink it is because I want you to like me. Do you like me?
I do like you, Christopher. I like you very much. I won’t say that it’s because you drink Malort, but I won’t say that it’s unrelated, either.
Good. I like you, too, Tadd. Just so the record’s clear. Do you listen to vinyl? Are you one of those people?
I don’t, but it’s not because I’m not pretentious enough to. It’s that records are really heavy, and I tend to move about once a year. I am trying to live in all of the Chicago neighborhoods. So far I have lived in Ukranian Village, Humbolt Park, Pilsen, and Logan Square. Candidates for next neighborhood include Andersonville, Bronzeville, Back-of-the-Yards, Boy’s Town.
I think the truly important question here is: Which of those neighborhoods has the most hookers per capita?
Oh man, there was actually a really depressing story in the local free weekly this week about underage homeless prostitutes in Boy’s Town. Well, and the underage queer homeless population more generally. Here, I’ll post a link.
Crap. Did I just bring everything down? Did I kill the mood?
No way, dude. Underage homeless prostitutes are hilarious. I’m actually planning on reading a story about them solving crimes, fucking Hardy-Boys-style, at the reading. Do you have any special things planned for the Vouched Presents reading?
You are a terrible man.
I am imagining what Hardy-Boys-style fucking would be like. I know that’s not how you intended that, but now I’m thinking about it. It seems like of kinky, in a faux-naive way. The word “adventures” would be involved. Flashlights. The possibility of terrible crimes, just outside the borders of the (sexual) fiction.
At the Vouched Presents reading: probably Russ will sing. Maybe I will sing. Russ is actually a musician, so him singing will be less weird. Meghan’s performance might involve some sort of fake blood or animal parts or tiny dolls designed for choking, I don’t know. Possibly I will make some kind of spectacle, if the reading seems to call for it.
Oh, and Russ and I have both made special chapbooks for this tour, which we’ll be giving away for free.
You’re reading too, yeah? What are you going to do?
I am, which is weird, maybe. In the underground music scene, it’s common practice for the band that booked the show to include themselves on the bill, but that doesn’t seem so kosher in the lit scene. I feel like I’m breaking barriers or something, though I know I’ve been to plenty of readings where the organizer also read. Nothing is new under the sun.
I’m actually considering a set comprised completely of poetic performances of Ted Nugent songs. There might even be archery involved, and the killing and eating of various game. Not to ruin the surprise, but perhaps even a loin cloth. I don’t know.
Thoughts? Any final words for your would-be audience?
I don’t know. I’m just really excited about the prospect of archery. I want to shoot something. Let’s shoot things. Shooting is the new reading.