AS USUAL, Monday begins with a hangover for many New ...

Reality then goes further out of fashion the next night at S.O.B.'s, where bassist Brian Bromberg's fine tribute to Jaco Pastorius is marred when the doorman fails to beat Bromberg to death at the end of the evening. Basic science, however, takes a good kick to the groin at a preview screening of The Core, which seems to have been made for the same people who've yearned to see the Chunnel! movie from that Seinfeld episode.

Things get more realistic at Grungemania!, presented at CBGB in the form of a show by Lava recording artists Smile Empty Soul. The power trio is so realistic that I'm expecting to find myself sitting next to Dick Van Patten. Tough break for lead singer Sean Danielson, though, as he risks being overshadowed by antiwar protesters in the Still Resenting Your Parents Sweepstakes.

Also, the bass player needs to be taller.

Then it's back to the industrial revolution at the Grassroots Tavern, where Genesis P-Orridge drinks merlot and, in a nice change from most tireless self-promoters, demonstrates that he has things to promote. He's in the midst of shooting multiple roles for the new Bruce LaBruce film, and there's also a new 24-CD box set of live Throbbing Gristle performances. The exiled Englishman even went back home to endure a reunion of sorts for that last one. "Obviously, everyone had changed a little bit. Me, the least," P-Orridge notes, in the fashion you'd expect from someone flashing a ring that reads "Bitch."

There's also the publication of Painful but Fabulous: The Lives & Art of Genesis P-Orridge, which P-Orridge notes can double as an instruction manual to build your own Marilyn Manson. P-Orridge has a better understanding of freedom, though. "America's still the refuge for people who aren't welcome in their own country," he says?as should any guy lucky enough to spend his first months here living in Winona Ryder's bedroom.

And P-Orridge also has breasts now. Very nice breasts, done by one of the finest Park Ave. plastic surgeons. He even got the movie-star, five-star-hotel recovery treatment. "It really hurt," P-Orridge explains, "because they rip the muscles away from the ribs. They look very pleasing, though, since you don't see the implants under the skin."

He's also kind enough to display his breasts right at the table?which I appreciate, since the working title for any gay porn film could be Genesis P-Orridge and a Rock Critic in the Bathroom of a Bar on St. Marks.

Lungs and cruel reality are further celebrated as nightclubs gear up for their final hours as smoking establishments. There's practically a big billowy skull-and-crossbones floating outside of the Restricted night at Lit, where the fleshy Bosch-influenced paintings of Chris Mars likely reflect the interiors of most patrons' lungs. The puffery, however, is less effortlessly cool over at B.B. King's, despite waitresses graciously distributing free cigarettes.

Headliner Jon Paris even gets into the spirit with appropriate covers of Brownsville Station and Deep Purple. Nothing can change that B.B. King's has always been a fairly smoke-free environment since the club's regular crowd is those blues fans who keep up their Crunch memberships. Still, the collective fervor has to count as the biggest display of love for Big Tobacco since Ayn Rand took up cancer for the cause.