I ran a club called READ in Los Angeles around 1987-88. It was the “Less Than Zero” era of movable underground parties—nightclubs that existed one night a week in a location that constantly changed. You needed a flyer to know how to locate secret late-night places with exotic names like POWER TOOLS, BOTSWANA, PLASTIC PASSION and ENTER THE DRAGON.  

READ began more as a literary salon. The opening was hosted by Bret Easton Ellis to celebrate the publication of Mark Lindquist’s novel Sad Movies. The space was in a tiny bar downtown called LALA that was trying to go for a smart crowd. READ’s main floor featured a magazine rack selling radical left-wing books and our self-published house zine with original poetry, artwork, and short stories by authors such as future award-winner Richard Lange. 

I made flyers to get people in the door, which worked. The crowds were diverse and at some point included Jodie Foster, Nic Cage, and John Cusack. We’d distribute flyers everywhere: record stores, on parked cars at other like minded clubs, and through mailing lists (the physical kind). I would pull all-nighters at a 24-hour Kinko’s designing them, endlessly cutting and pasting and xeroxing.

At a certain point, my film career took off and I had to choose between making movies or running the club… and that choice was easy. READ was never a profitable venture despite the efforts of my partners in crime Jamie Glantz and Nicolas Griffin, so it died a quiet death. I don’t think we even announced the club’s end. Just one day there weren’t any more flyers. And then no one knew where to go.