34 Chapter 34: The Autumn People, Part 3

The Village Voice defines Eclipse as a cross between MoMA and an acid trip. The feminists of New York classify it under meat market. But as the old man said in Citizen Kane, if you just want to make money, there's no trick to it.

Well, maybe a few tricks.

The atmosphere of Eclipse was a deliberate contrast to that of The Station and its trendy imitators. Black lights flashed to the beat of music with the bass cranked so high, I couldn't tell if it was Chopin or Cradle of Filth. Escher and Dali prints hung on the walls at skewed angles. Every few feet a bizarre sculpture, probably a third place winner in a high school art show, adorned the magenta-tiled floor.