Hey Ho! Lets Go! These words were a call to arms when the Ramones ruled my universe, and this city's heart. There was a time when guitar solos led into drum solos and a thousand lead singers with big hair sang songs about love and knights and such, and the lyrics were flowing and even understandable. Along came the Ramones, their 1, 2, 3, 4 scream being the only way you could tell that they were on to the next chapter. It was one long bang, with a frenzy only punk, hardcore, and maybe war could achieve.

Nightlife is a 24-hour job for Sal Imposimato, the regional director of entertainment for the Morgans Hotel Group (which includes the stylish Hudson, Royalton, Morgans, and Mondrian Soho hotels), who's in charge of all nightlife programming.

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.

"There are so many people watching you"

This weekend was spent walking dogs, DJing, and watching war movies -- 3 of my 5 favorite things. As the city emptied out, those who are not inclined to wallow in traffic and party like it's 1999 enjoyed the relative quiet. Clubs in NYC were quiet as well, with many joints closing, and others pared down to skeletal staffs. With almost every real DJ cashing in out of town, guys like me had a chance. On Thursday, I opened for my friend Paul Sevigny at the roof garden of the glorious Hudson Hotel.

First of all, how have you been? I can’t reply fine, thank you, as I have spent the last week and change sick as can be. I was a guest of the very fabulous Beth Israel Hospital, where I was lost in a drug fog for six days. No snide remarks from the peanut gallery, please. It seems last weekend Amanda and I got bit by something very little while walking the puppies in McCarren Park. The bites, which were just a little more than a mosquito’s work, were annoying but unimportant at the time. However, the next morning, they were swollen, infected, and suddenly very important. Within a day the swelling and all the guck associated with infections had spread to the neighboring fingers, my whole hand, and up my arm.

Here’s an interesting thing. A very good friend of mine, who is always reliable (except when she isn’t—she’d be the first to agree) took this photo of what she says is Banksy, the invisible man caught in the act. I've been sitting on it, debating it’s validity and the idea of busting out the superhero. She was black car-ing it to her abode during Oscar week and stopped to take this photo. It’s a slow news day—so here it is. You draw your own conclusions. My gal swears it’s him. She thinks.

Fashion Week is so jam-packed with things to do that it’s impossible to do them all. I went through my Droid apps again and still couldn't find that Star Trek "Beam Me to the Hudson Hotel, Scottie" app. I never made it. Maybe the new iPhone will have it. The soiree that I had to go to featured DJ Cassidy and ?uestlove, and was “powered,” they said, by Jonny “the Lover” Lennon—and I missed it. And it wasn’t because I was where I was also supposed to be (the Grey Magazine event at Rose Bar), because I missed that as well.

I'm packing to come home, and for the first time ever, I will be sad to leave LA. I either just got "it," or "it" changed enough in my direction to have meaning. I had a great time, and I swear I will never use this old joke again: "If its 10pm in New York, it must be 1998 in LA." It just doesn't ring true, as NY has become less and LA more. Back in the big wormy apple I hear that Santos' Party House is reopened, and Gina Sachi Cody is still dearly departed. Gina will be put to rest following wakes and funeral services 2pm to 4pm and 6pm to 7pm tomorrow at the Barret Funeral Home in Tenafly, New Jersey. I'm going, so if you expected to see me, fogetaboutit. I'm sending my sweetness off, even if I must go to Tenafly—wherever that is. I would walk a million miles for one of Gina's smiles, but will have to settle for a photo on an easel.

Technically, Halloween festivities fired up as early as last week, but New Yorkers really get down to business tonight, extending their weekend via The Bunker Club, or The Gutter, and rolling through the weekend with 1Oak, the Boom Boom Room, and the Hudson Hotel, with some lovely Brooklyn markets and parade options thrown in the mix. Enjoy one of the best weekends in NYC, and remember: next year, Halloween will fall on a Monday.