Goddamn. What a horrible way to start the day. Peter Steele is no longer with us. Normally, I take solace in an evening spent in the shadows, drinking red wine from the bottle. But I cringe at the fact that doing so tonight will be the first time I haven’t had silent partner in Peter Steele. You will be missed.

I’ll compose a more fitting tribute once I have the time, but for now:

35, or the number of dollars I just paid for Type O Negative tickets a month from now in NYC.  We love Type O here, and their ghoulishness is very appropriate for us. Call me 16, but I still get excited about Type O, whether it’s a new tour, a new album, or simply a random rediscovery while I peruse through my catalog .