Four long years... and we ain't dead yet. Not that they haven't tried. I hear tell that the last hombres tried to take us down are now on the run from the West Virginia mob. Italians in West Virginia? I, too, am aghast.
As I sit finishing up this final, final post-Halloween issue ( I promise ) , I see on my little black-and-white that X/O has gotten a rave review on WTTW's Check Please. Kudos, Mark!
Our cover boy Manuel was quite accommodating when I stormed in unannounced to Cocktail at 1 a.m. to search for a hot subject. Luckily, Chicago Beef delivers.
Nightspots operative Jerry brought me up to speed on innjoy, Wicker Park's home to the acid-tongued DJ Madrid. Give that queen a wig and stand clear. Sounds like she keeping the bitches in stitches over at 2051 W. Division every Monday night. I'll be stopping in soon myself for a little bit of the ultra-violence ( come on, you gotta know what movie I stole that from! )
See page 30 for a fiesta of the testicles, namely Felix from Hideaway. You will be seeing his face ( plus other choice bits ) on the cover soon if I have anything to do with it. As the editor, by the way, I have everything to do with it.
Dig it now. I'll be doing a reading of some old and new pieces at Scott Free's Homolatte on Wednesday, November 23. Plenty of warning for those organizationally-challenged of you out there. Lawrence and Damen. 7:30 p.m.