Confidential, Saturday, September 9, 1996

I headed downtown to the Continental to catch the last of CMJ (College Music Journal Festival). It was pretty steamy inside for all the wrong reasons so we started hanging out outside. The weekend crowd outside Continental is sort of a New York fixture. Everybody that’s anybody and anybody that’s not -- they’re all there on a Saturday night.

Met Dee Dee Ramone in the pizza place next door. He introduced himself as "Douglas." I thought he said "Drugless" and I answered, "I think not." Dee Dee sort of scratched his head and repeated his name until I understood. If he wants to be Douglas, then Douglas it is. Tried to hold a conversation with him but Drugless’s eyes were sort of rotating in their sockets so I didn’t make much headway.

Went back inside and caught Clowns for Progress, Electric Frankenstein and Speed McQueen. Though they were all kickass bands in my opinion, the best out of the batch was Electric Frankenstein, a local thrash-punk group.

After sweating off about 30 pounds, I decided to head for cooler, drier territory so I walked down the block to Coney Island High. Bumped into this raggy but cute looking punk girl on the way who had a rat on a leash (she called it a dog and I suppose it may well have been).

She asked me for some change. I gave her my beer and some cigs, bleeding heart that I am. She quickly lit up a smoke, took a long draw on the beer, and wiped her mouth with her sleeve. I laughed. "Look at you," I said, "Saturday night with a cool drink. Wow wee!" I wished I could have given her something for the dog/rat, but I was down to pocket change myself.

In Coney, I danced off another 30 pounds. The DJ, Cousin Corn was playing some cool stuff from decade to decade including James Brown from the ’50s, some Animals from the ’60s and some classic Iggy Pop from the ’70s. He was excellent. Maybe that’s why he has a job! No unemployment line for Cousin Corn, he knows how to spin...

Met some English guy who asked me if I modeled (what a sweet-talker). I said I’d be going back to it in a few months after the silicon implants healed. That seemed to throw him off the trail. However, he was followed shortly by another trailblazer, a slender Latino girl who kept following me to the bathroom. I checked her out on the dance floor. Maybe if I didn’t have a boyfriend and maybe if she didn’t dance like she had epilepsy, I might have been interested. Maybe not.

Around 1:30 a.m., I decided to take a break and go sit in a booth seat to write this journal. Now, here I am, at two o’clock, wrapping it up. Well, it’s time to signoff. Gotta go look for more trouble before the night gets old.

Confidential, Saturday, September 1, 1996

It’s Saturday, the night the masses go out. Most people live for the weekend and some weekdays. I live for the moment. I’m still flying from the night before. Stayed out late, worked all day, got 45 minutes rest, and here I go.

Saw the Wild Bunch last night, a local all-star band featuring people like Wayne Kramer from the MC5, Clem Burke from Blondie and Kathie Valentine from the Go-Go’s. The band was great. They opened with Bowie’s "Jean Genie" and pretty much rocked the house down from there.

Tonight I’m back to one of my favorite haunts, Webster Hall. Got in, sponged a few brewskis, made my way to the main floor and danced my ass off. This guy from Pakistan asked me to dance and I said OK. He danced like a duck, web feet and all, but he was sweet and that counts too.

After a while, the sweat was pouring down my face and I was ready for the Alice Cooper look-a-like contest so I went to the bathroom to wash it off. Met some friends inside and threw the bull. The fact is I rarely go to the bathroom because I actually have to go but because that’s where everyone hangs out.

Got into a conversation with some guy whose name was either Joe or Moe. Actually I just remember that it ended in a vowel. He started describing his dream girl and it sounded an awful lot like me -- which, to be quite frank, made me a tad bit nervous. He then asked me who I like to date and I answered, "Girls." This was enough to throw him off the hunt for a second and I took the opportunity to make my great escape.

Unfortunately, there was another hunter outside. I got trapped right by the lav door by some guy who was interested in showing me his spit. I told him to step back because the bands have to come through. He said there were no bands tonight and I said to step back anyway. He got the hint and I got the hell out of Webster Hall.

Before I knew it, I looked at my watch and it was heading on 3:15. So I went to Coney Island to catch a few more before the evening was through. Got there and realized I was seeing double. I went upstairs and sat down for two minutes, felt like a brand new person.

Hung out for a couple more hours and started to get tired. Went to the bathroom to take of the electrical tape I was using as a push-up bra. This girl Kim, a cute little Japanese girl who I’d just met, asked me where I was from. I said, "Outer Space." It was, after all, 5:30 in the morning. She seemed a little confused as most people are by my responses at this time in the morning. Anyway, it felt like time to go, so I copped a ride to Planet X to re-fuel before my next journey back to clubland, NYC.

Confidential, Sunday, August 18, 1996

Went to see the Z-100 Band Picks of the Night at Coney Island High last evening. Lots of volume and speed chords. Found myself talking with some dreadlocked guy. I thought he said he owned a porno shop so I centered the conversation on Hugh Hefner and Playboy bunnies. Found out it was a muffler shop he owned, when one of the bands took a break. So I excused myself and headed to the bar. I'm sorry, mufflers just don't do it for me.

Got a beer, left what I thought amounted to a generous tip, and cruised the area. Tried on some of the Calvin Klein cologne that they were promoting at the club. It smelled like a mix of after-shave lotion and cigar smoke. It brought back memories of an old boyfriend who went unwashed for long durations and then covered it up with some cheap stuff from Rite Aid.

Anyway, I spotted a few friends, threw the bull, then literally bumped into a heavy fellow with a beard and bad breath on my way upstairs. I figured if he can take me, I can take him, and listened to him yabble in broken English for about 15 minutes. Apparently he was German. The only thing I really understood was when he called me a "veal rock'n'roll-lah." I said, "Ya," and got out the way of his bad breath. (I guess I couldn't take him after all.)

Needed a rest and sat down to finish my beer next to three chicks giggling in a tight circle. I then realized I could spit more than was in my bottle. But I was comfortable and the DJ was playing some cool tunes that I started to sing along with. One thing led to another, and I guess the three babes were impressed because they all wound up giving me their numbers. (Why do I attract more women than men?) They told me I'd better call them. I assured them I would and threw away their numbers the minute they left. (I mean what should I do? -- I have a boyfriend.)

I looked at my watch. It was 2:30 and I figured why not make it an early night. So I started to head home. On my way out the door, an Elvis clone handed me a complimentary ticket to see the Wild Bunch at a downtown club. I thought he was handing me a rebate, which would've been great since I didn't pay to get in the club in the first place. Ah, but it was just a pass to go hear some local rock & roll.

As I waited for a friend to give me a lift home, I bumped into the three babes again. They were all smiles and hand waves. I told them it had been a pleasure for sure and would they "please pass the cough syrup." They didn't seem to understand so I lit up a Benson & Hedges, hacked up a dollop of phlegm and hopped into my friend's car.

Cough syrup or not, it was a lovely ride home and 14 or 15 cigs later, I was snoozin' comfortably in the old queen-size bed. So 'til next time, be good, be bad, take it easy and treat yourself well -- you're worth it, babe.

Confidential, Monday, July 29, 1996

It's Monday! I was just getting ready to settle into a quiet evening vegetating in front of TBS when I get a call from this guy, Bernie Alexander. He tells me his band, Planet X, is playing down at Lion's Den and I just gotta go. Okay, okay. Didi Delicious doesn't need a whole lot of arm twisting to get her butt off the couch and down to the nearest rock emporium.

I show up around 11:00. The usual gang is there. My friend, Linda, is cursin' out her boyfriend because he decided to take another babe to the Lollapalooza show. Cherry's there, with her famous front, the whole gang.

A couple of complimentary drinks later and I'm feelin' good. Suddenly, along comes some real sexy female -- slinky black hair, thin-boned, covered in patent leather. A conversation ensues and soon she's telling me how absolutely great I am. She still doesn't know my name but she's ready to elect me to public office.

We share a smoke and head to the bathroom together (each for our own separate reasons it turns out). Outside the stalls, we chat and the conversation moves into a whole different realm. My new friend tells me she's doing an acoustic set, she's the next one on, and if I would only go down on her, she'd probably play a whole lot better.

I explain to her that I'm a Capricorn which makes it totally out of the question. It's all I could think of, given the circumstances. I mean, what do you say to these people?

She then gets into this "Wo' is me" bit, telling me about all the men and women she's had to "open her thighs to" just to survive in this world. I respond that life is tough all over -- I have a day job.

Anyway, I get the hell out of there and head to the Continental. On the way over, the cabby asks me for a date. I told him to give me his number and lower the fare to a dollar and I'd call him. He nodded his turban and gave me the ride for free. I know it wasn't nice but I was down to my last penny. And a girl's gotta do what a girl's gotta do.

So, till next time, this is Didi Delicious wishing everybody the best of everything. Oh, and watch who you step into strange bathrooms with.

Confidential, Tuesday, July 23, 1996

Well it was that time again when the clock nears midnight so I headed down to Jackie 60's to sponge up a few drinks. I just got done primping by dousing my head with a 1/2 a bottle of hair spray. Finished the bottle, washed it out and loaded it with rum. Dropped it in my pocket and was ready to go.

The night was cool. I felt good and I guess it showed. Everybody took to me. Free entry, free drinks -- great. Met some friends and hung for a while. It was David Bowie night at Jackie 60's. Drank my rum, drank my freebies, looked at the Ziggy Stardust clones, and noticed the clones giving an eyeful back to me.

Things at Jackie's really started picking up at around 2:00 a.m. Heard some news while checking out the scene on the dance floor. Drag night has been moved from Saturday night to Sunday at the Pyramid but the action has become even more active. Woo woo woo.

Later, I wound up at fetish party with my friend, Cherry, a fun-loving dominatrix with famously large tits. And as much fun as the scene was, it appears that Cherry and her famously large tits got restless so we caught a cab to Hudson Street to do some stuff that the editor/webmaster advised me not to discuss since bail runs pretty high these days and we're operating on a shoestring budget. So till next time, this is Didi Delicious signing off wishing everybody, everywhere good luck and goodnight. Ciao.