Theft by Finding

A few hours later, at the Dallas airport, I saw a sign reading PATRIOTIC T-SHIRTS 50% OFF. That pretty much represents the national mood.

January 28, 2002
Florence
Florence often smells like toast.

October 8, 2001
Paris
When hauled before the new world court of folly and decadence, I will have to admit that when the war broke out, I was standing in the Paris branch of the Jil Sander boutique talking to a woman in a calf-length Prada vest trimmed with the fur of aborted fetal lamb. An American press had just published the collected snapshots of Dennis Hopper and we’d been invited by Leslie to the launch party. The first bombs fell on Iraq as the guest of honor made his way to the second floor, and the news was delivered by Lauren Bacall, who wore a fist-size jeweled hair clip, the tiny stones arranged into the message I love Paris.

June 25, 2001
Paris
While I was gone Hugh, Manuela, and Dario attended Franck’s surprise fortieth-birthday party. One of the guests was a sophisticated mother of three who announced that she hated the zoo at the Jardin des Plantes because it was cruel to keep the animals in such small cages. She went on and on and then, at the end of the evening, she unlocked her car and released her golden retriever, who’d spent the last six hours in the trunk.

The guy she went out with was named Ziki Fuapopo, and the story she told involved his mother, a pile of cocaine, and a group of men dressed in lavalavas.

I’ve been dieting for two weeks now, and while my stomach feels a bit smaller, I seem to have lost the most amount of weight in my forehead. It’s tight as can be. I’m guessing the loss is due to the constant mental strain of thinking about food.

Her monologue went on for twenty minutes and ended with “So if you don’t want my gravy, go fuck yourself.”

One person talks about welfare and the next about the terrible Donna Karan collection.

You’d think an adult would know better: Beer on wine, you’re fine. Wine on beer, stand clear.

I led a five-year-old boy to Santa’s door and said, “Look at all the toys my master has.”
The kid was small but sophisticated. “I’ve got more toys than that. To tell you the truth,” he said, “I’m very spoiled.”