On to more nights, transfixed, bored, even delighted. Torpedo, for the "Chains and Chests" party. Torsos in chain-link cages, the usual sort of thing. The Karaoke reunion party at Semper's/ Underground/whatever, packed again, Tara Solomon winding down with a virtually nausea-free splash. (Karaoke will be moving to the La Cage space April 1st.) Brian Mehmel of Wire telling a great story about Jackie Smit of the Palace, who had, for many months, insisted that she would be moving to San Francisco on March 10 to begin a new life. No one believed her, of course, except for Varla. The night before, the former Beach drag legend called and chirpily informed Miss Smith that she wouldn't have to start over all alone. San Francisco was also Varla's kind of town: she/he/it had booked a seat on the morning flight out and would be meeting her plane. The myth of renewal and transformation, the great lie of beginning again. Pernicious, irresistible, ultimately impossible. Elvis would have understood.

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