Whether it was the rediscovery of mayonnaise as a condiment of interest or the scotch-scented wave of pure, artery-clogging Mad Men nostalgia that brought them back, deviled eggs have arrived – again. Once the hors d’oeuvre your grandma’s gin rummy tournament wasn’t complete without, this summer deviled eggs are popping up on menus across New York, from gastro pubs to Tiki bars to New York Times three-stared restaurants. In fact, it’s damn near impossible to avoid the fancy little treats.

The culture of nightlife and the culture of hotels is about to change. For years, we have discussed the advantages of nightlife finding a protective home in the bosom of a hotel, with all its services, amenities, insurances, lobbyists, lawyers and all that expensive stuff that operators in non-hotel-based joints need to pay for on their own. Hotels are more than ever before driven by their food and beverage establishments. Plus, they come packed with rooms filled with guests who have the best money there is: vacation money.

The Night Hotel is the best place to get it on in the city—unless you're the type who thought "The Future Room" in Blue Valentine was sexy. Vikram Chatwal's vampy hotel in the Theater District of Manhattan actually won Trip Advisor's "Sexiest Hotel in the US" award, and with packages like “Party All Night, Sleep All Day“ and parking privileges for "Bridge and Tunnel" folks looking for "an overnight stay," it's easy to see why.

I’m late writing today because I have been trying to clone myself all morning. I am getting so busy as a DJ that I may have to give up my pottery or my vegan cooking classes. Tonight I am double-booked by people who must be tone deaf. First off, I will DJ a birthday bash for my pal Greg “The Smile” Brier, who is also celebrating the 2-year anniversary of his restaurant/joint Aspen Social Club. This Times Square affair starts at 5pm for the locals and goes real late for the loyalists who love the joint. My name is listed on the invite along with other DJs, but appears 3x bigger than the rest, who are absolutely 10x better than me at making music. But I am pretty, and sometimes that will get you through the night. Shoot, it got my ex’s through years.

Industry Night at Highbar has gotten my attention. Tonight, they’ll screen the Rolling Stones movie In The Park, which shows the return of the Stones to concert making after a couple-year hiatus. The concert took place under a cloud of grief, just a few days after the death of ex-Stones guitarist and founder Brian Jones. Jones left the band just a short while before filming began under confusing circumstances. Some say he quit; while others say Mick Jagger and Keith Richards pushed him out because he’d become a drug-addled waste of space left in the dust, musically. He was perceived as a liability. He was found drowned in his own swimming pool. Was it a suicide or accident?

Friedrich Nietzsche said "For art to exist, for any sort of aesthetic activity or perception to exist, a certain physiological precondition is indispensable: intoxication." Last night an extremely artistic crowd gathered for the aesthetic activity called partying. The perception was that they were all very experienced in this endeavor. All -- well, most -- seemed to possess many physiological preconditions as well as a desire to get extremely intoxicated. It was a crowd for the ages, meaning they were all quite elderly. They gathered for the 30th anniversary of Danceteria, a club that will just not gracefully fade away. It still wants to go inside and play and for a Camelot moment it did again last night.

Okay, busy day, so let’s get to it. The 30th anniversary party of Danceteria (one of the greatest clubs ever) will be held this Saturday at Aspen Social Club in Times Square. Hordes of '80s nightlife survivors will migrate from all over the planet to attend this soiree. It’s either: attend or wait for the 50th anniversary event. People who look like shadows of themselves will talk about love, music, fashion and ghosts of nightlife past and everyone will say, “You look amazing !” 100 times. Some will be better at this remembering game than others. There's an old saying …“It's hard to be nostalgic when you can't remember anything.”

In what is starting to be a trend, the older set will have another reason to break out the spandex, leather jackets and pointy shoes as the folks who worship at the altar of everything Danceteria will have their day, er, night. Joe Stanich, known as the beloved Joe the Manager, has enlisted my help to put together a soiree’ for the infamous nightclub. I facebooked owner John Argento to get his blessing. I said, John, we need to do this, as none of us are getting any younger. It's been 30 years since it began, Joe reckoned. Plus, everyone had such a blast at Tommy Gunn’s event at The Bowery Electric last month. Hopefully Tommy will come and relax and play with everyone this time, instead of running around like rockstar on acid. John blessed us and we will party like its 1985.

"Up is down and down is up," is Eddie Dane's cryptic observation from Miller’s Crossing, an early Coen brothers flick. The two sensational clubland cases I written about involving anti-heroes Justin Ross Lee and Tarale Wulff may not be what they seem, as the two are not what they seem to be on the surface. I have had extensive conversations with all parties involved regarding Ross Lee’s big bang-up and Wulff’s class acts. Things don't seem to be as they appeared in the initial reports. These stories have more legs than a 1Oak cocktail waitress and I’m just dying to tell you, but I can't say much more as of yet. Except maybe up is down and down is up. I am told things in confidence and being a man of my word, I must wait until I am unleashed to blab.

The Stay Hotel opened up just as the economy sank, but through a series of adjustments it has managed to stay ahead of the recession. New still sells, and Times Square ain't what it used to be ... it's stocked with a steady stream of tourists. It's better in many ways than it was before the sanitization, but I, of course, miss the old Times Square. When I was young -- yes, there was a time -- I had a strange hobby: I would put on some very old clothes, a hat to cover my face, and put a bottle of Welch's grape juice into a brown paper bag, then lay down or sit propped up in a doorway in a very dangerous pimp-thug-whore environment and listen, watch, and absorb street life. No one ever noticed me. I was invisible. I absorbed the jargon, learned the rules, and saw incredible things. Later, Times Square would become Disneyfied, and the old ways were exiled to another Main Street. The Minnesota strip where pimps would turn 15-year-old runaway farm girls into women who were never saved by Travis Bickle has been converted to some Midwesterners' vision of Times Square, with new neon and less risqué messages. Girls, girls, girls turned into McDonald's, Burger King, and Ruby Foo's.