By the time I got to Paris, Man Ray was gone. Kiki, too. Long gone. Of course it's a beautiful city, just not the magic that I dream of.
Key West is certainly a gem. A tropical paradise, indeed. Plenty of debauchery to go around and the fun never stops. I missed the days before waiters could no longer afford rent and Mercedes outnumbered rusty bikes, though.
I love New York and the place has always been good to me. I never saw Willie at the Polo Grounds, however, and I never witnessed a ticker tape parade.
Oh, I could go on and on about San Francisco or London or New Orleans. You know- a day late, a dollar short. Don't get me started about Nashville.
Here I am, finally, at the centre of the universe. Portland, Dorset hasn't happened yet. Probably never will. Certainly not in my lifetime it won't. Fine!
Best weather in the UK. Ha! If you don't mind a little breeze that will take your laundry away. In other words, that's a low bar, meteorologically speaking. Nobody locks his bicycle, though, and someone stumbles across a big dinosaur bone on the beach from time to time. The place seems short on the debauchery front, so we manufacture our own.
The magic? I found it.
Give us peace on earth and end this dreadful, dreadful war.
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