Book : Party Monster A Fabulous But True Tale Of Murder In.

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Now a motion picture starring Macaulay Culkin and Seth Green, Party Monster is a vastly entertaining, scarily well-written and horrifically funny book (The Baltimore Sun) that depicts a dazzling, dizzying descent into hell-New Yorks downtown club scene, where dancing, sex, drugs, and murder were just part of the everyday experience. True crime has never been more fun.When Party Monster was first published, it created a storm of controversy for its startlingly vivid, strikingly fresh, and outrageous depiction of the hedonistic world of the 90s New York City club kids, for whom nothing was too outre-including murder. Nominated for the Edgar Award for best true crime book of the year, it also marked the debut of an audaciously talented writer, James St. James, who himself had been a club kid and close friend and confidant of Michael Alig, the young man convicted of killing the drug dealer known as Angel. This is the inside story of life in clubs like The Tunnel and The Limelight and hanging with leading lights like Keith Haring and RuPaul and the drugs, sex, music, and mayhem that existed during the heyday of New York City club culture. Review A vastly entertaining, scarily well-written, and horrifically funny book...even at its most gruesome. -- The Baltimore SunIt is the best book I have ever read....Its Our Lady of the Flowers with thigh-slapping humor. Its Liberaces Last Exit to Brooklyn...a lovely and horrible discourse on death. -- Simon Doonan The New York ObserverA surprisingly funny and touching memoir. -- The New York Post About the Author James St. James who was once dubbed a celebutante by Newsweek magazine, is now a radio personality, an editor and contributor to The World of Wonder Report, and author of Party Monster and Freak Show. Excerpt. © Reprinted by permission. All rights reserved. March 31, 1996There are times, when the drugs are flowing and the emotions are running high, the lights and music can make you dizzy -- and the world slips out of control.Its like a car accident that happens too quickly...you cant stop it, you cant think about it, you just have to lean back, and watch as everything changes forever.Youve lost control, you say to yourself, as the wheel of the world slips from your hands -- Its happening too fast -- and all you can do is wait for the ride to end, the car to crash, the world to stop.Its like chasing after time, chasing after the things that have already happened, because the drugs have made you too slow. Youre thick and awkward, but if you can just catch up, then maybe you can grab it, maybe you can grab at time and stop it -- But no.Its already happened.You have no choice. Play it out.Thats how Michael described to me the moments leading up to the murder. Thats the way he described killing Angel.I didnt realize when I came over to his house to warm my feet that we would be having such a serious conversation. I must confess, I was rather unprepared for it.You see, my night had started off very typically...*When I surfaced from my K-hole, I didnt know where I was, exactly, but thats not unusual. I didnt recognize anybody, either, but that, too, is not unusual. Often on Special K, everybody looks like Mrs. Butterworth -- all clear and brown and syrupy slow. Its usually quite comical to watch them pour over each other and on to each other, then ooze across a dance floor.I panicked, though, this time, and bolted from whatever club I was just in -- too quickly perhaps.I was barefoot and without a coat. I was wearing...hmmm, what was I wearing? Goodness! I guess I was wearing a peignoir -- not at all suitable for a blizzard in Times Square.But yes, by the looks of it, I was in Times Square, nearly naked, in half-drag, and those spots in my eyes were snowflakes.I didnt have any money and, for the life of me, I couldnt remember where I lived. And the club I had just left? It had already disappeared.A stic
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