After 28,000 miles of traveling we’re back in NYC, jet-lagged and getting ready for BEA. Lucky for 24-hour dry-cleaning, or we would be sartorially doomed for the next few days.
Of course, my posting is so far behind that there are still tales of Paris to tell . . .
Around the corner from our hotel was this graveyard. It was old and pictaresque, so I took the new camera over to shoot moody graveyard shots. Like this one:
Blah, blah, blah. Very artsy-fartsy.
But suddenly, I started finding famous dead people!
That’s the Baudelaire, the dude who translated Poe into French. And he was not alone; I was in the midst of a host of defunkt French celebs!
Without hesitation, I threw aside all pretensions of art, and became a paparazzo of the dead. This turned out to be much more fun than artsy photographs.
Another yank there was Jean Seberg, aka the cute chick from Breathless.
Check out her birth and death dates. Drugs are bad for you.
But on the positive side, beautiful actresses get more flowers than philosophers. Even philosophers in pairs . . .
Hey, here’s one of my favorite playwrites:
I directed his play The Lesson in my senior year in high school. It was all about an etymology lesson, but I changed it to a tennis lesson. (Dude, I was so Dada, it still hurts.)
Okay, I think that’s all the good Paris photos. Singapore comes next.
And by the way, I just finished the copy edits for Extras. Yay!
Tired. But. Can’t. Sleep. Or. Jet-lag. Will eat me.