Postcards on the Lam

A calm afternoon. Unpacked my bags, threw the dirty laundry into neighbors' faces. Too relaxed for lunch; sunned in the back yard instead. Post office, dry cleaners. (The life of this superstar is well beyond human kin, non?) Rang AWK on my way to the gym; I'd failed to locate the postcards I'd meant to mail in Manhattan. He couldn't find them either. We then talked about the album, the few remaining adjustments, the upcoming trip to Turkey, etc. Said goodbye, and stumbled inside. A relief to be back on the treadmill. Seventy minutes on the Alpine glider (listening to Fourth Drawer Down, again), then over to the free weights and machines (the new Shave album). Home around 9:00 PM. Eventually found those cards; I'd forgotten I'd stuffed them into the Noon lyrics notebook. (Must still be in shock from US Airways' reverse-service treatment.) They'll receive no NYC postmark, but perhaps their recipient won't mind...

Just started Clouzot's Quai des Orfèvres; Suzy Delair, Bernard Blier... Perfection.



(Simone Renant adjusts Suzy Delair's shoulder pads in an early scene from Henri-Georges Clouzot's delightfully caustic 1947 policier Quai des Orfèvres.)

More tomorrow,

Tom