I was invited out with him after the semester ended. Around midnight on a Friday, I stepped out of a cab to meet Corona in front of an unmarked building on a crowded downtown Manhattan street. I was pleasantly surprised to see him dressed in all black and smears of blue glitter sparkling on his face. We were on our way to The Box, which is, in short, insane. Corona’s favorite club is a delicious mindfuck of engrossing performance art, Amanda Lepore and wealthy stockbrokers, champagne and popcorn. And lots of shit, usually pouring out of the ass of the headliner dressed as Anna Wintour, a rabbi, or a sex worker. Go and see for yourself.

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