Halloween. Ghastly.

I've never understood the allure of Halloween.

Ghosts frighten me.










Costumes confuse me.

And often freak me the fuck out.

And feeding candy to children has always just seemed an irresponsible concept.








Though I can't get away with protesting the offensive tradition this year, as my job requires me to celebrate the holiday (I could sue, I imagine, for an affront against my secular beliefs), I plan to treat the day with as much dignity as possible. While in costume as Larry King.

Look out for pics of me as your favorite CNN Host. Next week on Los Angeles: a strange and unsober journey.

It's terrifying what lives between America's coasts.

With the campaign drawing near a close, each side's attacks gain momentum, fear and anticipation resounds in both parties and, apparently, the idiots of America are speaking out.



In this startling Al Jazeera footage of an Ohio rally for Sarah Palin, Palin supporters voice their concern about Barack Obama--their main issues, his blackness, his 'Muslim' standing and 9-11. Seriously? Has the American education system failed to reach those between New York and Los Angeles? Does mainstream media not broadcast in Ohio? Or, as I suspect, are these people just terrifyingly resistant to reality? I am horrified that these people live in the same country as me. No, actually, I'm pretty terrified that they live at all.

Happy Yom Kippur to my Chosen People pals.

To those of you who are home from work today fasting in honor of Yom Kippur, keep up the good work! By the end of the day, you'll be absolved of a full year of sins* while I'll still remain burdened by years and years of subpar behavior (and fatter for a full day of eating). And god only knows, I could stand for some repentance.

And to those of you who are struggling through the fast, I offer my friend Elana's advice - 'just think, what would an anorexic do.'

* I may be a little fuzzy on the details of the contract.

Obsessions. Michael Alig.

It takes a good deal to stimulate my interest [or at least to hold it for more than a moment if something shinier comes into view]. But when something grabs me--it fascinates me.

Michael Alig. Anyone who's seen Party Monster has a faint idea of the madness that overshadowed the New York club scene--long past Studio 54's heyday and well into the 90's when queens still reined king and freaks ruled the velvet ropes of NYC's hottest parties. But unless you lived through it [or at least passed by the parties, just beginning each night when the rest of New York was heading home to bed]--and I didn't--Clubland is mere fantasy, a period piece that happened just a decade ago, in full costume in the streets of Manhattan.

Michael Alig was a fixture in the chaos. A flamboyant, outrageous character who might have faded into obscurity--fighting and drugging his way through the downward spiral, mind you--had he not murdered his drug dealer, chopped him up, and later deposited the remains into the river.

Black Book's new columnist, Steve Lewis--another character from the club days--recently visited Michael to make amends and shared his visit's anecdotes.

I was engaged, but I realized the account to be lacking depth. I found New York Magazine's profile of Michael, also written after an encounter with the man in prison. It portrays a man, young and crazed and on top of the world--the character we judge but all wish to play--and his descent. It struck me. More, I think, because I wish he'd remained on top. He would've stayed such an idol for those of who desire to live our lives wrecklessly. But know better. And sometimes regret it.