I saw Marie Antoinette tonight. I left thinking, “I want to be a princess.” I listened to a message left on my phone during the movie:

“We’re going to Puerto Rico, December 19th to the 22th and we have a ticket for you.”

I don’t need to be a princess; I am doing just fine as it is.

I love Vladimir Nabokov – Vlad Nab, as I affectionately refer to him – but on my good days he has almost nothing on me. I wish he were around to document them in a way that does them any justice.


I just spent a while trying to write about some of the more beautiful instances in my life, but that is 1) impossible to do in any real way 2) trite, and 3) embarrassing in its lavishness and self-absorption. Instead I will mention that in today’s mail I received a purse made out of a bull’s scrotum, or Saco De Toro. (It was a gift.)