This is my roommate on Halloween night. I’d forgotten my house keys and had to seek him out to borrow his. I hate when I think my errands are done and I reach my front door only to frantically search my own pockets and find that I have to get on more subway trains before I get to be by myself again.

This is an underwear company promotion. Some girls formed a human triangle. I looked on approvingly and appervingly.

I got home and assembled my costume which didn’t look as good as I’d hoped but it was disappointing in a way that was still funny to me. While I prepared for the night people were calling me repeatedly, the same people over and over, all wanting to go the Vice Halloween Party, all asking me to get them in. Assholes! All waited until the day of…

Then we get there and the line’s around the block and it’s raining and my employee wrist band actually doesn’t mean anything. I managed to sneak in with some guys who went out to smoke. I don’t know exactly how Cerebral Ballzy got in but they’re like ninjas at juvenile delinquent skills.

This girl was dressed as the Prisoner. She was my favorite costume I saw all weekend. Too many Mia Wallaces, wayyyyy too many Slashes, and a lot of Kurt Cobains. People really sucked a dick at creativity this year. There were a lot of boring sexy costumed girls who were as sexy as a pile of puke with a used condom in it. I was so unhorny this whole Halloween and that just shouldn’t be.

Here are my friends Carolyn and Carleigh dressed as a teabag and Dolly Parton. I don’t know if Carolyn is referencing those Fox News hate rally jamborees or just likes tea. These were sweet and wholesome costumes for some wholesome bitches. They kept pumping all this fake smoke into the building until you couldn’t see ten feet in front of you. It was ridiculous. It felt like a dream. I’d wander through the fog and find someone I know and liked or one time I wandered into Telli from Ninjasonik and Nive and Nive kept kneeing me in the nuts. Just ’cause I’m wearing a jock strap doesn’t mean it feels good to get nut-kneed.

Then the Jesus Lizard played while drunk people told me they liked me. I’ve never listened to the Jesus Lizard but I will… someday. Then Bad Brains played and HR just stood there and spoke the lyrics to the songs reeeeeallly quiet while he held a towel. What an asshole. I cut my hand in the pit.

This is my costume. I’m GG Allin in his coffin. Three people got it. I couldn’t keep my hair in the cheap bald wig I bought. I felt a little scared walking around Bed-Stuy in this.

Here are my buddies, Hamilton and Amy. Hamilton is a smart guy who tells me about drugs. Amy and I watch Lost together when it’s on. She’s pretty smart too. One time I drew myself breaking her Garfield phone. I’ve been taking a lot of Nyquil and I am feeling pretty groggy as I write this, just like at the party. Soggy, a little drunk, kind of feeling good, kind of feeling bad. It was so dark and loud and big that I couldn’t keep track of my friends and it felt like I was spending the evening by myself. I wasn’t really interacting with folks, just wandering around, waiting in bathroom lines, feeling confused and wondering at what point in my life did I became ugly.

I ran into Johnny and Honor, who had grabbed David Yow’s wig, and we decided to go somewhere else.

Before we left I saw this guy pass out standing up, perched on this gate n’ pole combo. Security dragged him out and he had a “whadda I do?” face.

We ended up at Enid’s. I don’t like Enid’s. I never go there of my own choosing but that’s where we went. I liked this guy’s costume.

While I was there I ran into Bryce who is always into heavy metal. The bathroom line took forever due to the drugging and fucking. Some bitch from Ohio grabbed my ass but she was boring. Johnny was obsessing over three Asian girls who Honor insisted were threes at best. We  ended up splitting up at 4:30. I bought a Kit Kat and a Reese’s Peanut Butter Cups and ate them in the subway while I waited for the G train and felt bad about New York. I was bored where I grew up, so I came here to Brooklyn. Where do I go now that I’m bored of Brooklyn? There’s no New Yorkier New York to ascend to. Paris? I can’t afford that. And Europeans are all weirdos who love to rave and pay three times what Americans do.

- Toilet Cobra