My first getaway date with my Mary more than 30 yrs ago now involved going down to the Fillmore to see Camper van Beethoven, Faith No More & her gods, Husker Du. She laughed when i treated the mosh like a hockey game and checked several tweekgeeks into the tables and loved that i let her accept a backstage call (they should have - she was 6'4" in her spikes and had spent three hours putting herself together in the hotel room and cried with joy, ruining her 14 lbs of mascara, when i told her she looked like "the maitresse d' at the Gates of Hell" when she came out of the bathroom. She came back to the Kabuki within a couple of *nervous* hours and thanked me by showing me a wild night on the town (she'd been a Union Sq callgirl as a kid) and told me years later she already knew Mould was gay so we'd be safe and loved that i could be angry and tolerant. If you're anywhere near downtown Hell, Grant, stop by see my gal. RIP -