So here I am, woken up, a bit disoriented and surprised, in this gorgeous incredible little chateau, to the sound of rough waves splashing and the gray mist that covers it all in Southern California til the rays of the sun burn it off around 11, leaving a sparkle instead of the gray gray that I've always loved and associated with seas.
My old Russian strip-club trick of getting myself too crunked to move worked like a charm, and I all I had to do was cuddle a bit before passing right out in the comfortable bed. Haha.
Paul was still sleeping when I woke up at 8, and got up and looked around. Not unhappy to be where I am. Now he's up and has taken his dog, Lenny Bruce for a walk. And here I am, blogging on this superfast computer with three sides of floor to ceiling windows making me feel like I'm blogging atop the stormy high tide waves of Malibu.
Last night was nice. All the music industry below-the-line famous folks are very, very nice. I didn't drink at all. W---A--- wasn't there, nor Elliot, so it was a little dull at times. But very nice. Everyone was very, very nice. This could be all right, this Coco Before Chanel thing.
Paul has W.A's book right here and I wanna crack it open and read it, but he was talking about him last night to friends, what they're working on together and how they met and all that, and I said one thing about him being a great writer and he gave me a LOOK. So I shut it for the rest of the conversation and now don't think I ought to be peeping his book right here. Oh well. There are other books I can grab as I crawl back into the bed.
Pretty morning, all in all.