Paris, Saturday, July 19 - It can't be a lot of fun to be stuck in Hollywood day and night, watching the political shows on TV, reading the papers and surfing the Internet all the time. A guy's gotta have dreams too. Take our chief Lister, Alan, for example.
He talks a good game, living in that pad just off Sunset, home of delicious honeys trying to make it in Hollywood. Does he ever go to the swimming pool? Does he ever offer to show them how to play ping-pong? What about taking them out for a spin around Sunset, West Hollywood, or up to the Hollywood sign? See that view; mile upon mile of lights in the flat endless suburbs, as far as the eye can see, when it isn't too smoggy.
Alan doesn't do any of those things because he has Paris. He used to have a cat but that is another story. He still has his pipe, and I assume there's a bottle of some sort of Scotch around, and there are old movies on TV sometimes when he's got the pinwheel eyes from the computer monitor. And sometimes he has Paris.
For example, he used to stay at the Hotel Madison on the boulevard Saint-German. He used to stay there because it is a four-minute walk from everything, almost everything, he cherishes. If he gets up before noon he might feel like breakfast. He has two choices - he can go to the Deux Magots and have a hot chocolate and a fresh croissant with a tiny pot of strawberry jam.