Wrapping up in the district for a club research crawl with James Riginato of W and photographer Todd Eberle, our party casting attitudinal pearls before swine, the film loop spinning out of control through the projector. Crude videos with exercising adolescents at Twist, bouncers ejecting irate patrons, unconscionable rough arrests of "cute guys" in the median strip of Washington Avenue. Eberle agog in the horror: "Everywhere you look is chaos A I feel like I've overstayed Coney Island." The lame Boy George concert at Warsaw not improving the spirits of the over-it-all set. A good little club girl lying face down in a pool of her own vomit, George grinding through "Generations of Love" and brightly remarking: "I look like a fucking monster, but take a picture if you like." But then, the pop life makes monsters of us all.