For the past several years, my only birthday wish has been to enjoy a period of overindulgence without guilt or judgement, and this go-round was no different. Manhattans, loud music, pornographic gore and as many bong hits as necessary ... while this doesn't differ at all from what I want on a regular basis (I've had plenty of fine Tuesday nights with all the same ingredients), it's the suspension of good sense that's most important, letting myself go without worrying about the precious time I'm wasting in the bargain.

Lori and I had a fine time for my birthday, but this year's bacchanale did start feeling a bit perfunctory as the day wore on. By mid-afternoon I was bleary, satiated, too loaded to "do" anything but also beyond the transcendence that drugs and alcohol can provide in certain perfect moments. Still, I gorged myself on steak, shrimp and crab and watched a stack of movies WITHOUT TAKING NOTES, which was a pleasure in itself.

I got lucky at the video store, scoring a copy of NEW YEAR'S EVIL, a film I've been seeking for some time ... if anyone remembers Pinky Tuscadero, that same actress plays a "new wave" DJ who becomes the target of a psycho, yeah, yeah, ho-hum I know, but the phony Quincy-punk trappings are quite sublime. ISLAND OF BLOOD (aka WHODUNIT?) was also just quizzical enough to work, but the big one was NIGHT WARNING, which features the brilliant Susan Tyrell in a mind-boggling performance as Jimmy McNichol's murderous, sex-starved aunt. Check that one out as soon as possible, I swear to God ...