The Boom Boom Room, the hipster aerie on top of the newish Standard Hotel is the talk of the town as Fashion Week comes to a close. What happens to the space after this week when the Fashion Flock flutter away is subject to much rumor and speculation. The story that I kept hearing was a collaboration between man about town (but currently in Rome) Paul Sevigny and Rose Bar pharaoh Nur Khan. I repeated the rumor in a throw-out-the-line-see-what-fish-I-would-catch gambit in a post a couple days ago. Nur and I finally talked and he told me "Paul and I are flattered, and this is news to us. We've been discussing a project together, yet I'm focused on Rose Bar." Paul, of course, is killing it over at Avenue with his Tuesday night there a smash success. He's even blowing up the Thursday there as well. Yet, the story still makes sense. I absolutely believe Nur, but if not him, who? The question is whether an operator is needed at all, or will a good doorperson, well trained staff, and a beautiful room with views for miles and miles and miles be enough to drive the place and therefore the hotel.

I hear from Michael Alig quite often, although for many months I have stopped writing and visiting him. His bust in jail for illegal drugs indicated to me that he wasn’t taking my advice and efforts to reintroduce him to the world in a positive light seriously. He is in a repeat drug offender facility in solitary, with few privileges, about five hours from where I write. In a letter I received from him the other day, he was coherent and remorseful and understanding of my position. He has cut out many of the enablers from his ridiculous “fan club,” taking himself off their message boards. He seems to be trying again to get himself ready for the world. Our mutual friend, the brilliant artist Fernanda Cohen, visited him and read him the riot act. He swears he will embrace the “normal” and adult and creative friends he still has and forsake the Manson-like cult followers that celebrate all that is wrong about him.

I was in my friend’s apartment at the magnificent new Caledonia on 17th Street a couple days ago. His joint is one flight above the grand new High Line, which was being readied for its opening yesterday. That affair, which attracted the mayor and all sorts of dignitaries, is a proud moment for this town. The energy and flavor the new park will bring to the West Side will be a much-needed shot in the arm for our city’s culture and economy. When I was standing there watching the workers, I realized that I couldn't hear the drills and heavy tools they were using. I asked about the glass and got a rather long technical answer which I think meant it was thick. The insertion of mega habitats like the new Caledonia into the club ecosystem of the West Side will not be without conflict. It reminds me of all those people who build in suburban Los Angeles. They put up a gaggle of homes in a desert and are flabbergasted when a coyote grabs the cat. It seems that in this case, the surroundings -- which include 1Oak, Avenue, and The Park -- were thoughtfully considered. Traffic problems seem to cause the most beef with cabbies and other drivers blaring their horns trying to enter 10th Avenue, and a crane added to the congestion for eons.

Art is the lie that enables us to realize the truth. -- Pablo Picasso

So yesterday I decided to act on Paul Sorvino's line from GoodFellas --"So now I’ve got to walk away" -- regarding my old chum Michael Alig. Michael is locked up in suicide watch, in solitary confinement in a place upstate surrounded by murderers, rapists, police, and thieves. If he could see beyond the concrete and bars of his confinement, he would be looking at a beautiful countryside of corn and resorts. The Neville, an old-school, Jerry Vale/Henny Youngman kind of place (where I was most likely conceived) is only a couple miles down the road. That short, tragic road is for most avoidable, and for Michael it is a particularly sad length of tar. He had the talent, vision, and balls to pull off great social growth more than anyone in my experience save for Andy Warhol.

When news broke last week that Michael Alig had indeed been popped for a dirty urine sample, I wrote a piece which was a harsh assessment of not only what happened but how I was going to deal with it. There was a subsequent healthy back and forth in the usually sleepy comments section which has greatly influenced my thinking. I also received a great many phone calls and emails and Facebook messages as well. So I'm going to be something I don't like to be: a Monday-morning quarterback. Since this is my column and I do indeed have the ball, I'm going to run with it.

My visits to Michael Alig in prison have become more frequent lately. Michael and I had been friends and even partners -- although not in crime -- long ago. Having served 13 years for the murder of Angel Melendez, Michael has been awaiting news of his exact day of release. His real partner in crime, Freeze, is due out next March, and, well -- Michael screwed up. I’m not exactly clear what has transpired, but it has something to do with a chronic back condition and Michael’s chronic fondness for easy ways out and drugs. It seems that Percocet was found streaming through his blood, and that’s a definite no-no in the joint. The facts will always be confused around Michael. Layers of fiction and half-truths are blended as stories are passed from one loyal follower to another. Even when I hear things from him, straight from the horse's mouth (or is it the ass' mouth?), there is doubt. Discerning the truth is like grabbing smoke with your hand.

One very successful operator recently told me “there are from three to five joints that are actually making money right now.” But despite his expert assessment, I still see operators looking to expand their enterprises to a second and even third or more location. However, the places they are looking are not the same as a year ago. Back then, everybody wanted to be either in the Meatpacking or on 27th Street, and although the Meatpacking is still hot, the 27th Street strip has lost most of its cachet. My source says that no one is happy there and that money is just not what it was. Pink Elephant seems to be doing better, although its programming and crowds have gone through some changes. Cain Luxe also seems to be staying afloat, but again with a crowd different than was previously expected at Cain.

“To forgive is to set a prisoner free and discover that the prisoner was you” -- Lewis B. Smedes

The question of whether my loyal "Good Night Mr. Lewis" readers would find me on BlackBook seemed to have been answered as my poor, obsolete Treo almost crashed and burned with well wishers and a decent amount of critics about yesterday’s post. I’m not sure I was encouraging anyone to support my old friend Michael the murderer; only saying that I personally was going to try to help someone that I was once very close to. When the Party Monster movie was going to premiere in New York, I was involved in the club Plaid, and although I didn’t have total control over the situation, I asked my old staff not to allow the premiere party to be held in the club. Request after request came in, and I kept saying, “No, I’m not interested in celebrating this film.”

Following is a letter sent by infamous New York party monster Michael Alig to our new nightlife columnist Steve Lewis.

16 JULY 08

DEAR STEVEN,

HOW ABOUT THIS?! FACEBOOK HAS EVEN CONNECTED YOU ... WITH ME! I READ WITH A GIGANTIC SMILE YOUR GREAT TELLING OF A VERY FONDLY REMEMBERED NEW YEARS EVE AT RED ZONE ... AND ITS VERY FUNNY BECAUSE OF COURSE IVE WRITTEN ABOUT THIS EXACT SAME NIGHT IN MY BOOK! ITS INTERESTING, SEEING THINGS DESCRIBED FROM TWO DIFFERENT VIEWPOINTS ... THEN PUTTING IT ALL TOGETHER ... RATHER LIKE THAT NEW MOVIE, VANTAGEPOINT, THAT THEY SHOWED HERE LAST WEEK ... OF COURSE, MY VERSION FOCUSES ON THE EMBARRASSING (AND REGRETTABLE) BOTTLE THROWING INCIDENT WITH VIVIANE ... I WANTED TO SHOW YOU AN EXCERPT FROM MY BOOK TALKING ABOUT THAT NIGHT:

Introducing the first installment of 'Good Night Mr. Lewis,' the singular nightlife column by New York legendarian Steve Lewis, now on BlackBook.

“The disgrace of others often keeps tender minds from vice” -- Horace

For a long time I wasn’t allowed to contact Michael Alig, as I was finishing up my own ordeal. Then for a while, I didn’t want to talk to him. I didn’t necessarily want to look back, as I’ve spent so much of the last decade looking forward. Maurice Brahms, owner of the seminal clubs Infinity, the Underground, Bond’s Disco, and Red Zone, gave me a call a few weeks ago. He told me that Michael really wanted to see me and asked if I’d be up to it. I received a letter in early July from Michael that reconnected me deep inside. We were friends, we were partners, and despite the murder and Michael's futile attempts to frame me when he was working as a confidential informant for the DEA, I felt I had to face him. I told Maurice I would go, and he handled the arrangements.