Literary readings are a funny thing. They’re often held at bars, but they’re not exactly ragers. I rarely see anybody get wasted at these things the way people often get on their nights out. Most people seem to have a drink or two in order to achieve a polite level of buzzedness, as they would at a dinner party (it’s considered very rude to throw up the host’s roast chicken and pommes dauphine). Unlike during a night of bar-hopping these days, it’s not weird to chat up strangers because, after all, everyone’s there for a common purpose: to support the readers and the group that’s hosting the event.
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