Last night was Amanda’s birthday party. We ate dinner at Veni Vidi Vici, which was mediocre but the company was excellent and the private room was awesome. I drank a glass of Riesling in 6.2 seconds and said awkward things to people I dont know very well. Amanda looked happy. On the walk home a man going to opposite way brushed against me and had a long sniff of my hair. Everyone in this city is on drugs or a probable sex offender. Bleaugh. Her arm in that picture says “Tu Est Stupide”, a poetic truth written in French one night in a day of yore by a drunken Irish bard. It was a startling moment of clarity on his behalf and a moment of weakness by Amanda. She has to learn to hold on to her permanent markers more tightly. I like that picture.
Happy 23rd Amandarling!