We should do that again. The juxtaposing, I mean. People seemed to have liked that. And we should certainly do what people seem to like, shouldn't we?
I watched the season premier of "The Borgias: Season II" tonight. If you have not been watching this series, you are really missing something. It will make you wish you were greater than you are, but that is not difficult in my case. I long for a sophisticated elegance. I like what James Salter had to say about people who had been raised in old money. They have had all the random behavior bred out of them. I am nothing but random behavior and regret. I am one of the extras in the scene, some moron flailing on a lute as the crowd goes mad around him. I wish, however, to be. . . most anything else. Still we do, I think, share a common destiny.
But there has been a spark of late. I am beginning to remember my more sophisticated self again. Not sophisticated at all, but a copy of a copy of that thing. I have been courtier. . . almost. . . a hillbilly lover to the princess, if you will. And worse.
To wit, I will be staying at The Madison in D.C. (if any of you wish to drop by). Friday night in Georgetown. A stroll by the Potomac after a fine dinner if you will come. I shall buy something to wear while I am there. A tie. Some shoes. Perhaps a jacket by Canali.
And here it is--the snapshot. She sat on one couch, I the other. Late, champagne long gone, dinner eaten, whiskey drunk, we sipped Peronis and talked of. . . I don't know anymore really anything for sure. But apparently it was warm.
I am disgruntled tonight. Tired. Worn out. Anxious for no known reason about my trip. There is always too much to do, and I wish to do so little any more.
Where is Wallace Stevens when you need him?
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