There have been many nights in Pilsen, this is just one. It began with a moody tongue and ended with an ass spanked. I met Aidan, Chicago reclusive author Clive Javanski, and Femke at Clive’s new place in Pilsen. It was late March but Clive, who moved there in December, still had mistletoe hanging in his kitchen hallway. I wanted to kiss Femke underneath it, but she only wanted to strangle me with it (Femke means “woman of peace”). I haven’t seen Femke for a few years, since before I left for Ireland. I thought I had made peace with everyone who was mad at me here when I left for Dublin several years ago. But I forgot about Femke. I don’t remember what…