The highlight of my day today, by far, was looking through all the old pictures on someone’s digital camera with the camera-owner, and then finding all these naked pictures of a girl he took. When things are that awkward they overflow from the awkward label and spill over into perfect. It was amazing.

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In New York, I ventured into the Fendi store. This store had all the other designer stores trumped because not only did it have snooty employees, it had a nine foot tall, blonde, full-length-fur coat-wearing snooty employee. She towered over the commoners. Walker and I saw a black man trying on a leather and fur jacket with his friend. He had a flat-brimmed baseball hat, and fancy jeans. “I wonder if that guy's a rapper,” Walker said.

“I wish my friend Jamie were here,” I thought. He would know. Then I really wished that Jamie were here, because he would recognize that ‘I wish my friend Jamie were here’ was a play on words with Del’s album, I Wish My Brother George Was Here.

In Marc Jacobs, I tried on a sweater and one of the buttons popped off. I was terrified – one employee was already eyeing me. Now I felt like they were going to chop off my hands. You don't pull shit like that in places like those.

I did end up buying the sweater, but not because I was forced into it.

“Momma I bought a sweater today, it’s fabulous. It’s a Marc Jacobs!”
“Oh! …………………….am I supposed to know what that means?”

Earlier I had spoken to her on the phone. She said, “You’re calling from Walker’s phone? Does that mean Walker is in Pittsburgh?”
“No, it means I’m in New York.”

And she laughed this exasperated laugh that shook its head at me.