Category Archives: book on the rave scene

Whatever happened to Tuned In, Mashed Out?


FRANKIE Ebook Cover front jpg

Recently, it has been brought to my attention that there are people wanting to buy a copy of my e-book, “Tuned In, Mashed Out: Confessions of a Rave Junkie.” I regret to inform you that it is no longer available on Amazon, though if you search diligently, I’m sure you’ll find a pirated copy floating around somewhere out there. Currently I’m in the process of getting it published on paperback, like it deserves to be. I’m pretty excited about that – you should be too! Next time around, “Tuned In, Mashed Out” will be a slicker, juicier beast, a formidable freak machine of ginormous proportions. Finally I’ll be able to afford two heated indoor swimming pools on a tropical island, a menagerie of exotic animals and a full-time handler to feed them. As the saying goes, “Good things come to those who wait.” Lord knows I can hardly wait to touch, smell and cradle the bastard baby born from the womb of my fertile imagination and semi-checkered past. Just thought I’d give y’all a heads up where that’s concerned – aight!

Tuned In Mashed Out gets Rave Review


Last February, I published Tuned In, Mashed Out: Confessions of a Rave Junkie. This e-book chronicles the adventures of rebel raver, G-Fly, during the height of Toronto’s scene in the 90’s, and is available now on Amazon. At one point, I was beginning to wonder whether I’d gone off the deep end by writing this book. Did anyone even care about something that happened over 15 years ago? Nonetheless, I felt this was a story that needed to be told, considering the general lack of exposure for Toronto’s underground past. Then like a burst of brilliant sunshine, I received overwhelmingly positive feedback from satisfied customer, Brian :

5.0 out of 5 stars A PLURfect representation of the rave scene, and the life around it,April 23, 2012
Amazon Verified Purchase(What’s this?)
This review is from: Tuned In, Mashed Out: Confessions of a Rave Junkie (Kindle Edition)

Having leafed through a few self-published books I had low expectations for this $3 novel but the subject matter was compelling so I took the plunge. I was completely unprepared for this enjoyable, earnest, exciting story. I was riveted to Frankie Diamond’s book and blew through it in just 3 sittings, staying up far too late as I read in bed each evening.

I found the book by trawling Amazon’s search engine for the unlikely query “Toronto rave” and was not disappointed. This is the real deal – the truest, most accurate, equally complementary and damning description of the 90s Toronto rave scene I’ve seen yet. Even though the format of the book is a diary her writing flare put me RIGHT THERE in those sweaty clubs and warehouses as she described the manic events each bleary day after. This stirred long-dormant nostalgia from deep within me – the elation of partying with thousands of like-minded people, the resulting family tension, the stresses from that awkward transition from adolescence to adulthood, the feelings of loneliness even while surrounded by friends, but most of all the grand revelation from going to my first rave and realizing I belong there. This all came RUSHING back to me as I read Diamond’s eloquent words; my mouth positively ached from my constant knowing smiles as I progressed.

Diamond pulls no punches here. She never tiptoes, aiming straight for the jugular and exposing her vices and shames for all the world to see. This in and of itself is commendable and adds sobering balance and conflict to all the celebration. She makes it clear that raves are wondrous occasions that mean different things to different people depending on where they come from and the context of their life that week. The rave was either an opportunity or an escape or liability or a necessity. Diamond’s sensitivity and honesty fill the reader with empathy and understanding and you’ll find yourself either cheering her on or mentally screaming to her not to make such an obvious mistake, wondering all the while whether any of us would have chosen any more wisely in her situation.

This is the most touching, relevant, truthful book I’ve read in quite some time. The similarities to other coveted diaries such as Anne Frank’s and Go Ask Alice are obvious and favourable: all autobiographical confessions of a fragile, impressionable soul seeking satisfaction and meaning in crazy times. As a man it was particularly interesting to glimpse the differences and similarities in a woman’s perceptions of that same scene I participated in.

The book is shocking, honest, exciting, and heartwarming. It’s genuinely left me with that rare afterglow I only get from great literature that grants me some fundamental understanding of myself. Like Frankie hitting the afterparty after a great rave I finished the book and immediately longed for more. From the (not too) young to the young-at-heart to parents of adolescents I would recommend this book to anyone sufficiently open-minded and I hope this is only the start of this great writer’s career.

Thanks Brian! Those of you reading this should follow Brian’s example and check it out b4 the success gets too much and I quit writing and go Howard Hughes on your ass. Don’t say I didn’t warn ya…

Tuned In, Mashed Out – available now on Amazon 🙂

Tuned In, Mashed Out: Halloween Rave of ’98


 The following is an excerpt from my e-book on Toronto’s rave scene. More excerpts can be found in the December and January archives on this blog. Like what you’ve read? Remember to click on the Facebook “Like” button at the bottom of this post 🙂

TUNED IN, MASHED OUT: Confessions of a Rave Junkie

Copyright © 2012 Frankie Diamond. All rights reserved.

Griff & co. rolled out in a raucous spliff smoking, candy chomping convoy of 3 automobiles. We touched down at the Automotive Building shortly after 9:30 p.m. The line-up was already starting to get hectic, but we got in after a 10 minute wait which was pretty damn good considering there must have been at least 300 people waiting outside. The AB’s interior was divided into 2 ENORMOUS rooms crowned with ridiculously high ceilings. Hard house boomed away in 1 while drum & bass rumbled in the other. The sheer magnitude of the space resulted in audio overlap which was kind of annoying. In its entirety, the AB was roughly the size of a few football fields put together. Holy shit….Dose & Syrous really outdid themselves this time! And it was still early, judging from all the empty space we had to explore. Already, there were a few hundred ravers milling around inside. Our posse consisted of Da Underground Crew: Griff, Tonya, Blaine, Christine, Renée, Chris, Tara, Jake, Ryan & myself. Reese, Anna, Deb, Pete, Tippa & his girlfriend evened out the score. And of course, we all had friends & others we expected to meet, rolling with their individual crews. We screamed and hi-5’ed each other for having made it inside & some1 took group shots with a camera. Next, we picked a sweet spot in the house room at a perfect distance from the speakers. This was our designated chill-out / meeting place for the night. Griff, Jake & Ryan gleefully inflated their bubble chairs with an air pump. WIKKED!!! Oh my God…I could hardly fucking wait!!! Multi-colored lasers were going full tilt & funky visuals played out on giant screens. Us girls started dancing & chatting, chilling out for the time being cuz we had a long fucking night ahead of us. I checked out T.R.I.P. & scored a couple of condoms. There was a bar available (not that we were gonna be drinking since we’d be dosing) & a coat-check which Tippa & his girl decided to use. Can you imagine the line-up for jackets at the end of the night? They’re out of their fucking minds. The rest of the gang stashed our coats into garbage bags (which we marked with fluorescent tape) & knapsacks. 

            After the chairs were inflated, I plopped down next to Jake. It was a pretty tight squeeze but it was alright. Besides, Jake’s kind of cute too in his cyber gear complete with loose fitting shirt & tie, colorful beads & polychromatic hair. He’s half Filipino, half Italian. We shared a bag of jellybeans while speculating how great this party was going to be. “Hey, I really like your costume,” he mused as he touched the knobs of my antennae. A formidable charge was already building in the atmosphere. My skin was tingling & I hadn’t even dosed yet! Across the way, Griff was chatting with 1 of his friends. He was dressed in a super colorful, kaleidoscopic looking outfit. His bells were completely covered in stuffed animals & plush toys, while glo necklaces illuminated his fluorescent orange & purple psychedelic tee surmounted by loops of multi-colored beads. A luminescent rod glowed inside of his mouth while he spoke and that spiked, green hair added a couple of inches to his 6′ 4″ frame to make him look even taller & freakier but in a good way. Way to go Griff! Blaine & Christine shared another chair as they rocked back & forth as if riding a wave. I swear if they popped that fucking chair I was gonna burst out laughing. What a night this was going to be…

            By 1:30, the place was absolutely rammed. You could not see the floor for the trees, Freakin’ in full swing if you please. Thousands upon thousands of ravers of every possible shape, size & description were hyping shit up like I’d never seen before. Every1 was reprazenting: from candys to cybers, gravers to gays, ginos, trannies, originals & of course, costume freaks. I’d already dosed a Superman & was waiting for it to kick in, hopefully soon. Tonya, Jake, Christine & I decided to take a walk, hoping to find Joi & the dance crew. It was so fucking loud that we had to scream to make ourselves heard above the ruckus. We waded through an ocean of optical mindbuggery as ravers tripped one another out in crazy, colorful costumes. Vamps, witches, werewolves, fairies, comic book heroes, cartoon characters, manga maniacs & freakazoids decorated in fluorescent tubes & glo-stix were in order. A girl wearing a bodysuit covered in candy rings giggled as a guy proceeded to munch some off her chest. Nice…. Meanwhile, I kept my eyes peeled for Shastri & any1 from his crew but to no avail. If I spotted them in the midst of all this madness it would be a major stroke of luck. Carlos was supposed to be here with his friends as well. Soon we were caught in a traffic jam halfway between the house & the jungle room, right where the sound was bleeding. It was a muddy jumble of scrambled beats which proved highly disconcerting to my increasingly heightened senses. Not to mention, steaming HOT. It was pure hell as we waited for our compacted bodies to get going. Christine was so lucky she had 1 of those little toy fans. My wig began to feel horribly scratchy & it was all I could do to prevent myself from ripping it right the fuck off. Christine, all dolled up as Snow White, suddenly decided she was a real princess after all & shoved the dinosaur dude standing idly in front of me. “What the fuck are you waiting for Barney, GET MOVING!” she snapped. Barney took 1 look at this snarling, Asian Snow White & decided it was best to follow orders. Tonya & I cracked up as we instantly progressed forward. It always helps to have at least 1 pushy person in your crew, especially at a megarave. 

            As we got closer to the jungle room, I started rushing really, really hard. Holy shit…Eric wasn’t joking – this stuff was strong. My heart raced like mad as my body tingled all over & I began to feel tremendously pukey. I hoped to God that I wasn’t gonna hurl right here, right now, in the middle of a fucking crowd. And if so, Barney would be the 1st to get it. I swallowed desperately as I struggled to keep my upchuck down. A pair of Jedi warriors engaged in mock combat brandished their swords ahead of me. I was seriously tripping out on their light sabres as they wiggled before my eyes. An ecstatic fever swept over me as I broke out in a sweat. Penetrating basslines from that monstrosity of a sound system were beating in sync with my heart. Doof doof doof doof…. My entire being pulsated in time to the music. Even my gums were vibrating. Suddenly I became distinctly aware of this amazing, uptempo house track with a bouncy groove & wobbly sub-low resonating through the atmosphere, tripping me out even further as I heard this vocal loop cresting above acid horns like a happy surfer :

            “When you feel that rhythm, moving thru your system… feel that rhythm, moving thru your system…”

                        Apparently other ravers thought it was amazing too judging from the massive screaming, head bopping, whistle blowing session which ensued. I turned around & said, “Guys, I’m fucking rushing!” I put my arms around Christine & Tonya who were behind me. Jake joined in for a group hug as we danced on the spot. I heard him singing along as the happy feeling spread like wildfire through the crowd. Even Christine got caught up in contact high delirium as she screamed with excitement.

Tuned In, Mashed Out – On Sale Now for only $0.99 on Amazon! (£0.75 for the UK massive).

To take advantage of this limited time offer, visit:

*Check out the original Freakin 98 Flyer in the Vintage Rave Flyer Gallery under November archives*

PLUR >>>>> Frankenräver

Comfort Zone 1998


Comfort Zone's Flyer Wall

Well well…judging from the number of hits my review on The Comfort Zone has been getting, many of you just can’t seem to get enough of that infernal den of iniquity. Yes, it’s a sleazy little dive but let’s face it – CZ is one of a kind and has definitely earned its place as an afterhours legend.

As a special treat for all you CZ lovers out there, I’ve included an excerpt from my e-book, ‘Tuned In Mashed Out,” where adventure raver G-Fly, heads down to The Comfort Zone with her compadres after a rambunctious house party. It’s 1998, Toronto’s rave scene is kicking up a storm and CZ is still reasonably priced at around $7, long before the era of extortionary cover charges kicked in….

TUNED IN, MASHED OUT: Confessions of a Rave Junkie

by Frankie Diamond

Carlos interrupted my Planet Synth excursion to say goodbye. I gave him a hug & promised to call him later. I was still wired. There’s no way I could go home now. About a dozen people were left, dancing in the living room. I needed to find Griff & those guys so I went to the kitchen. Beercans & bottles were scattered everywhere. An E’d out couple sat at the kitchen table with their arms around each other. I asked them if they’d seen Griff & they said no. I checked the backyard. No-1 there either so I went to the basement where I found Griff, T-Rex, Karen, Tippa & others chilling out, playing video games. Reese sparked an L & waxed poetic on how great the night was. And it was far from over. There was talk of going to the afterparty at Comfort Zone. Apparently DJ Sneak was supposed to be spinning. Turned out every1 down here was too fucked up to go home, courtesy of Craven’s fruit punch. Griffin was the only 1 who hadn’t tried it, but he’d dropped an E & was rushing large. I asked Griff how he ended up being friends with someone like Craven & he smiled mysteriously. “Craven’s not your average gino,” he said. “We go back a long way.” Turned out Griff & Craven’s dad had known each other for years through business ties. Griff’s dad owned a Greek restaurant & happened to be good friends with Craven’s dad who ran an autoshop. Craven got his nickname cuz he craved drugs so damn much it was a wonder he hadn’t keeled over yet. “I keep telling him to slow down but he won’t listen,” he said. “One day he’s gonna find out the hard way.”

Griff finally pulled the plug around 4. The sparse group of hard core ravers remaining clapped & showed their appreciation b4 bouncing. Griffin’s long departed guests showed theirs by leaving a huge mess behind. Empty beercans, bottles, roaches, chips & glo-stix littered the floor. Griff didn’t seem to mind. “I’ll deal with that later,” he said as we drove to the afterparty, blazing up on the way down. Eight of us made it down to Comfort Zone, which was strangely comforting in all its grimy glory. The perfect haven for those who couldn’t go home….or didn’t want to. CZ won’t judge you. I could still see my name etched into the peeling, plastic upholstery of the couch where I’d inked it on in a drunken stupor last summer. Welcome back Gemma! Some unknown guy was spinning progressive. Where the hell was Sneak? At least 50 people were here, with more to come. Still early. Griff brought Tonya & I bottled water & we proceeded to dance. Sneak finally snuck on & threw down some deep house. Which was fine but I would’ve preferred something harder. It was getting busier & a tad hot so I went out for a smoke with the fellas. Moments later, I was rushing like a frigging express train. The weed brought me right back up. Fuccckkk…my eyes were rolling like mad so I donned my shades & zoned right the fuck out. Black light action was going on up in here too. I could see my fucking teeth glowing fluorescent green in the mirrors. God I looked like a freak – but so did every1 in here. We’re all freaks to be here in the 1st place at 8 o’clock on a Sunday morning, when decent God fearing folk were either still in their beds or getting ready for church. We were in The House of Ecstasy, which is as close as we’ll come to God (for now anyway). Plus I saw a good number of people from Griff’s house party down here too.

I got my wish when another DJ took over & dropped some hard fucking house. YEAH!!! THAT’s what I’m talking bout! Holy…now the party’s getting started. Griff, T-Rex, myself & every1 else are all stepping like mad. I’ve stripped down to my tank-top, with my sweater tied around my waist. Man, this is the shit! Steve Venom on the decks. Bite me! Later I dropped half an E, blissed right out & finally sat down what seemed like half a lifetime later. Reese had passed out on the couch. He was not alone. About a dozen whacked out ravers were crashed out right beside him. I planned on joining the slumber party soon so I sipped some water & just nodded to the beat which gently vibrated my bottom. Some dodgy looking guy asked me for water. He looked like he might have some kind of disease, so I asked him not to touch the rim with his lips. He looked offended but I didn’t give a fuck. Guy must’ve been really thirsty or really broke cuz after giving me a weird look, he took the bottle grudgingly while following my instructions. Afterwards, I made sure to put it into my pouch for safekeeping.

Next thing I know, T-Rex is shaking me. “G-Fly, let’s go.” It’s after 3 in the afternoon. Can’t complain. We said our goodbyes to some of Griff’s friends who decided to stay, & went out for breakfast. I finally got home around 6. Thankfully mom wasn’t there. She’d have something to say for sure. She really has no clue what I’m up to these daze. Whenever I go to raves, I just tell her that I’m going to an all night party & I won’t be back ’til the next day so she’s kind of used to it now, though she kicks up a fuss every now & then. 

Copyright © 2012 Frankie Diamond. All rights reserved. Excerpts of less than 200 words may be published to another site, including a link back to the original article. This article may not be reproduced in its entirety and posted to another site without the express permission of the author.

 Like what you’ve read? Check out more excerpts from Tuned In, Mashed Out under the December and January archives!
 Tuned In, Mashed Out – available now on Amazon:

Frankenräver’s Book “Tuned In, Mashed Out” has Arrived!


It’s official! “Tuned In, Mashed Out: Confessions of a Rave Junkie” by Frankie Diamond is available for sale on Amazon. Mark my words: this book will have people talking. Love, sex, drugs, electronica – this stuff ain’t boring! It’s high time Toronto’s rave scene gets the recognition it deserves 🙂 We had a wicked crazy AMAZING movement that should be celebrated for what it was; an epoch in dance culture history that can never be repeated. The 90’s was a special time for us indeed. Who knows what the Future of Rave might hold….but for now, a nostalgic joyride thru tha good ol’ daze should do ya…

“Tuned In, Mashed Out” chronicles the hilarious shenanigans of self-professed rave junkie, Gemma “G-Fly” Anderson. Set in 1998 during the height of Toronto’s burgeoning rave scene, G-Fly is encouraged by her gorgeous supermodel friend, Katrina, to keep a journal for forty nine days as an exercise in artistic liberation. What follows is a mind-blowing excursion into underground youth culture, where Ecstasy reigns supreme and the Dj is GOD. 

While her long term relationship with Delroy teeters on the edge of collapse, 23 year old Gemma finds herself falling for charismatic 19 year old raver, Shastri. Can she withstand temptation and discover her true identity in the midst of all the madness? Brilliant, best-selling author Frankie Diamond, takes you on a fantastic roller coaster ride into Gemma’s angst filled world. Every day’s a headtrip as our plucky protagonist grapples with perplexing dilemmas such as racial identity, recurring nightmares, Ecstasy overload and raging hormones. 

Get ready for a rip-roaring adventure into one of the most colourful, fantastic worlds you will ever encounter. Tuned In, Mashed Out – on sale now at Amazon:

To all the bloggers n surfers out there: thanks for your support! I sincerely hope you enjoy Tuned In, Mashed Out. Feel free to leave comments on Amazon and on this blog too. Here’s what some of you have been saying about the book based on the previews:

Like Hubert Selby Jr. and Irvine Welsh all rolled into one.” – Deadstareforlife (Dogs on Acid) 

So these are the homo erotic tales of the Toronto rave scene which can only be told in ebook form? Something makes me think our scene is about to be internationally recognized! LOL.” – Chili Banks (

It’s a glorious day for Canada, and therefore the rest of the world.” – Wayneoway (Dnb forum)

Prepare to be seriously entertained!

Another Juicy Excerpt from Frankenraver’s Book, “Tuned In, Mashed Out”


Tuned In, Mashed Out chronicles the hilarious shenanigans of self-professed rave junkie, Gemma “G-Fly” Anderson. Set in 1998 during the height of Toronto’s burgeoning rave scene, G-Fly is encouraged by her gorgeous supermodel friend, Katrina, to keep a journal for forty nine days as an exercise in artistic liberation. What follows is a mind-blowing excursion into underground youth culture, where Ecstasy reigns supreme and the Dj is GOD. While her long term relationship with Delroy teeters on the edge of collapse, 23 year old Gemma finds herself falling for charismatic 19 year old centrefold, Shastri. Can she withstand temptation and discover her true identity in the midst of all the madness? Brilliant, best-selling author, Frankie Diamond, takes you on a fantastic, roller coaster journey into Gemma’s angst filled world. There’s never a dull moment as our plucky protagonist grapples with vexing dilemmas such as racial identity, recurring nightmares, Ecstasy overload and raging hormones. Get ready for a page turning, thrill addicting experience, guaranteed to leave you in stitches and jonesing for more.  

Tuned In, Mashed Out: Confessions of a Rave Junkie by Frankie Diamond

Sat Oct. 17 – DAY 31 

             Khareem took me to a lounge on Richmond St. where we met up with his homies. He was happy to feed me drinks & I knocked back a coupla shots, plus 4 beers. If it’s 1 thing I love about Khareem is that the brotha’s not cheap when it comes to drinks! The music was kinda boring; commercial RnB mostly, but the DJ played some house, which kind of made up for it. I told him he should try raving sometime. He said it sounded interesting & he might check it out 1 of these days. I don’t remember much about last night apart from dancing on a table & being asked by security to come down, subsequently slipping on a wet patch & falling flat on my ass. All in all, it was a good night. I got home at 4, to be up for work by 7. Woke up with blinding headache, regurgitated stomach contents. Even saw bits of undigested hot-dog floating around in there. Life’s a bitch, ain’t it? Somehow, I managed to get through the Saturday morning frightmare. The customers must have noticed my zoned out zombie expression & decided it was probably best to refrain from asking me dumb ass questions. Might chew your face off for that price tag infraction, lady. Finished work at 3:15, went home, crashed out, only to be awakened by T-Rex calling to say she’ll be picking me up in half an hour. I haven’t even showered yet. Now I gotta get ready for Griff’s party. My outfit’s laid out on the bed. T-shirt, matching beaded necklace, sweater & jeans. I save the expensive gear for when I go to the clubs – like my shiny cargos for example. I would really hate for gum to get all over that. Hope I have time to blaze 1 up b4 I step out. Should be a good night!

Sun Oct. 18 – DAY 32 

            Last night was da bomb! Oh my God, Griff sure knows how to throw a friggin party! When we arrived, Griff & his homies had cleared out the living room to set up turntables & speakers. Crates of records were stacked on the floor. T-Rex, her friend Karen & I, set the chips, dip, & snacks out on the dining table. The fellas proceeded to do a sound-check which consisted of Reese, a Jamaican brotha, rhyming on a mic to some jungle. Carlos sat on the couch with T-Rex & me, bopping his head while rolling a blunt. “Dis here’s some good shit!” he bragged. “We’re just getting warmed up.” This was mykinda scene! I was dying with curiosity about what those boys were doing behind the decks, so I approached them & they gave me a tutorial on how to mix. It was fun! I loved the feel of vinyl under my fingertips. I thought, hey, I could be a DJ too! Griff gave me pointers on beat-matching & showed me how to man the switches n stuff. When I first started raving, I asked him about the special FX producers used on the tracks & he schooled me on basics like sub-lows, filters, panning, etc. He’s so cool. I learn a lot just from hanging with him. He asked T-Rex if she wanted to give it a try but she shook her head no. We took a break to get blessed with Carlos’ creation. Damn. That was some kick ass bud! After 3 hits, I couldn’t toke no more. I sat there chilling & next thing you know, I felt a weight pressing against the side of my head. I moaned in protest. “Oh my God, I’m so sorry!” I looked up groggily & saw a white girl I didn’t know sitting next to me on the couch. T-Rex & Carlos were gone. Shit, I passed out!

             I sat up immediately. The room was filled with people. A hard house track was rocking full tilt. I could hear chatter & laughter all around me. The pungent odor of sess & cigarettes filled my nostrils. Alright! I woke up just in time for the party!  I walked around, looking for familiar faces. The clock on the wall said 11:40 so I was out for roughly 2 hours. I turned right & walked down the crowded hallway towards the kitchen. I couldn’t believe how busy this place was! I squeezed my way in and saw Griff sitting on the counter, beer in hand, chilling amongst friends. Boxes of partially devoured pizza laid open on the table. The noise in here was a virtual uproar. I walked over to Griff & he gave me a hug. “Hey Gemma, u ok? You were out for a while! Here, have some beer.” I took a sip while he introduced me to his friends. I was dying with hunger so I inspected the contents of the pizza boxes. Meat lovers was way too heavy for my taste. All that was left of the vegetarian were a few lonely pieces of green pepper & mushroom. I managed to score the last 3 cheese & settled for picking off the pepperoni on another slice. I got a beer from the fridge to wash it all down. Mmmm….yummy! At that moment, Delroy ran across my mind. I wished he could be here with me. That really made me sad so I put it out of my mind with another swig of beer. Everywhere I looked, it seemed almost every1 was hooked up ‘cept for me. Shit. I tell myself I’m being paranoid cuz Griff’s single too…well, sort of. It seems like him & T-Rex r kinda seeing each other. SHIT! I really need to forget about this else I’ll drive myself crazy, so I returned to Griff’s corner & listened in on the conversation. They were discussing rave related stuff like upcoming parties, headliners, & the best type of E currently available. Eric couldn’t make it cuz he’d gone on a business trip to Amsterdam. That lucky bastard.

Copyright © 2012 Frankie Diamond. All rights reserved. Excerpts of less than 200 words may be published to another site, including a link back to the original article. This article may not be reproduced in its entirety and posted to another site without the express permission of the author.