So, last Saturday night we had our massive, annual Halloween bash at a very cool new club downtown: The Edison Bar. It’s located in the ancient brick bowels of a gorgeous old building in a space that used to be a private Los Angeles power station in the early 1900s. All of the original brickwork, fixtures, and ancient columns have been carefully preserved and used to carry the “early electricity” theme throughout the club. Even the monolithic, old brick boiler room was left standing intact — dredging up horrific images of steam rising and Freddie Kruger chasing your fatass through the dark with a cocked fedora, a sharpened claw, and a wicked belly laugh. It is perhaps the most amazing nightclub I have ever seen — and trust me, I have seen them all over the world.

At any rate, this annual party was first held 12 years ago in Billy’s backyard in Silverlake…and the invitations then numbered about 200. This year, the guestlist swelled to well over 1000 people, hastening our mass exodus to The Edison. What originally started out as just a drunken Jackalfest for Billy and a bunch of his degenerate friends — many of whom were then working in entry level positions in the entertainment industry and have now moved up the food chain considerably, to say the very least (though, trust me, they are still degenerates) — is now the fucking Halloween event of the season; NOBODY throws a party like Billy. Caged go-go dancers, circus acts, taiko drummers dressed like demons, entire housing structures magically transformed into accursed pirate ships, cotton candy machines, the best gottdamned drag queens and dance music in the city, and even entire Southern Baptist church choirs bringin’ it home are par for the course. People leave this party feeling utterly satisfied — and this year was no different.

Billy is the King, baby…and as you can see from my ridiculous, self-snapped, stereotypically-posed, quasi-myspace picture — I was The Queen.