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I could smell the death-cunt of it- There was a staff meeting every other Friday night. I busted up a few of them. And after hearing the results, I just didn't go anymore. If the paper wanted to live, let it live. I stayed away and just slid my stuff under the door in an envelope. Then Hyans got me on the phone: "I've got an idea. I want you to get me together the best poets and prose writers that you know and we are going to put out a literary supplement." I got it together for him. He printed it. And the cops busted him for "obscenity." But I was a nice guy. I got him on the phone. Hyans?" "Yeh?" "Since you done got busted for the thing, I'm a gonna let you have my column for free.
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