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Vice Blog

THE HOLE WHERE MY HEART USED TO BE

There's a new Facebook group for appreciators of the Hole, NYC's legendary, awesomely disgusting, and now-defunct den of debauchery. Twas there that we frittered away much of our youth, circa 2001-2005, until the Cock, an even seedier bar, moved in and took over. That's right, the Cock moved into the Hole. Oh, how we laughed. But in the early 00s, the Hole was a special place. There were gay nights and girl nights and straight nights, but it was so dark in there, it didn't even matter what night it was—everyone was wasted and everyone was weird.

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Every inch of available surface was covered in layer after layer of graffiti, even the torn insides of bench cushions. Most of it was by IRAK, aka our pals. Once every couple of months they'd paint over all of it, but it'd be back to normal by the next weekend. Weirdly enough, me and a friend of mine were once kicked out for writing our initials + BFF in a heart

over other graffiti

with a sharpie. And the guy confiscated the sharpie. It was the biggest "What gives?" of all time.

Also, the bathroom door didn't lock, and for a while there wasn't even a door, so you had to have a lookout when you went to pee. Not that you'd ever "pee" there anyway.

It's actually shocking to see photos of the Hole in full light. It looks so tiny and gross, but when you were there… well, it was still gross, but it didn't seem as tiny. It felt momentous, like what it must have felt like at Studio 54, but for cretins. I guess it's like when you go back to the house you grew up in and everything always seems smaller than you remember it. Anyway, if you have any photos or reminiscences of the Hole, go post them on

the Facebook group

so we may all revel in their glory and pine for our wasted youth. A. LADY