“Take it off, take it all off!” a hottie in a miniskirt shouted. There were 12 of them, all built rock hard. Were they cheaper by the dozen? Read more

Billy, can I take your picture? He made a face and pretty much shuttered his baby blues. Billy, another one, can you please open your eyes? I asked again. Read more Read it in print

Did you get your freak out at Click Drag 3.1: The Second Coming, the gender-bending fetish party on Oct. 17 at Santos Party House? If not, maybe next year, dahlings. Start planning now. They won&rsquo Read more

Salvation was there Down Under the Manhattan Bridge Overpass at the powerHouse Arena. Salvation was not a saving of my soul, but the hardcore band from Philly, along with a trio of kick-ass writers: “Bloodclot” John Joseph of The Cro Mags, the “Indestructible Wolf” Max G. Morton and old-school New York tattooist Jonathan Shaw, all of whom have written books for Heartworm Press recently. We’re talking Outlaw Lit 101. Read more

Glum is the New Glam “No more tonic water!” the costumed cutie purred from behind the makeshift bar. Shit! I was partying in the United States of Bushwick: no direct train without shuttle Read more

I was strolling east in Tompkins Square Park on a perfect autumn day, enjoying the sundappled urban vista in the heart of the Lower East Side, when I heard the lovely voice of a young woman. “My pussy is magic, my pussy is magic, my pussy is magical!” The leggy Jessica Delfino gestured toward her crotch, fetchingly attired in a violet-checked frock with glossy white pantyhose and vinyl gogo boots. Don’t you love that schoolgirl ’60s drag? Read more

Let me ask you a question. What would you do if your daddy killed his own daddy and then fucked his mommy by mistake? OK, he didn’t know they were flesh and blood, but that’s rather carele Read more

To be technical about it, I didn’t actually eat lunch with Lydia Lunch. But we met at lunchtime, just the two of us, ladies who don’t lunch on the rooftop of her friend’s five-story walk-up in Chelsea. She’d just finished a photo shoot with Richard Kern, who years back directed her in erotic films like The Right Side of My Brain and Fingered. Read more

I arrived at the club and followed the directions of the door boy/girl: “Keep going until you’re sure you’ve gone too far.” I was surprised when I entered the room and it was all sparkling and beige, like some ‘60s Champs- Elysees bote.“Give me a gin and tonic,” I told the bartender. It was the re-opening of Mr. Black’s Tubway party on Saturday night. Before I knew it, I felt an arm on my shoulder. Read more Read it in print

“Tonight, I’m singing ‘No Feeling’ by the Sex Pistols in honor of Nancy Spungen, who’s about as far from a geisha as you can get,” Louis Jordan said from the stage of Glasslands Gallery. Well, I beg to differ, motherfucker. Spungen was both geisha and den mother to a bunch of unwashed punk rock dopers. She did it her way. But it was Jordan’s very first performance anywhere, and he had added the adorable touch of letting his jeans fall down to his pretty little ankles. Read more