Greetings from the shortest night of the year!
There’s something terrific about the ambient light of the gloaming sun, still barely visible at 10pm. It hints at infinite possibility, undeniable optimism. I know it drives people crazy near the Arctic Circle, the “white nights” and all, but for now it’s simply brilliant.
You read it here first: the weather the last two days has been the best in three years. Zero percent humidity and 74 degrees, with sky sporting about ten clouds. It was the perfect day for a quick jaunt over to Claverack, NY, where Merchant and Ivory � yep, THAT Merchant/Ivory � were having a benefit dinner for their foundation.
The entertainment was an Indian dancer, very beautiful, who gave a long performance that made me actively miss my friends Jyoti and Swati, the incorrigible twin Indian girls at Carolina during the Purple House years (’92-’95) who made a habit of drinking hard, keeping the nights brisk, and performing some of the most beautiful, intricate synchronized Indian dancing I’ve ever seen. I love the way Indian dancers use their eyes; most other cultures ignore the face while dancing (which leads to the famous “white man’s overbite” practiced by most Baby Boomers dancing to “Boogie Oogie Oogie.”)
At dinner, we sat with Andrew Solomon and our excellent compatriots Ben Feldman (our lawyer) and his partner Chip. The food was exquisite until I bit down on some sort of relish from the salad table that was so, um, unfortunate-tasting that I nearly hurled.
Good thing I didn’t, because as we got up to leave, Ismael Merchant himself wandered over to Tessa and me, asking us how we liked Columbia County, inviting us to dinner, and generally being a fabulous Old World host. That guy does it right, lemme tellya.
After that, he went back to talking to Salman Rushdie. I was dying to ask Mr. Rushdie how on earth he survived a decade of fatwa but that’s what starfucking morons do, and I’m only half of that.
I thought he looked quite handsome in person
We ran home to catch the West Coast satellite feed of Clinton on “60 Minutes,” and you have to admit it was pretty good television. Even near the end of his presidency, I was still defending Clinton to the hilt, because I always really liked the guy. We met him in Chapel Hill in early 1992, and since that day, my respect for him has been unassailable.
Yes, yes, Monica Lewinsky blah blah blah fucking blah. I NEVER CARED. And neither should you, really. If you were embarrassed by Clinton’s White House indiscretions, but give George Bush a free pass on his lies, then you have some serious thinking to do. In fact, go sit in the corner right now. When you’re done, explain why Bush can lie and cause the death of roughly 11,000 people, while Clinton is dragged through the Fires of Hell for a blow job. America, I’ll never fully understand you, and I don’t know if I want to.