I want to make this poster longer, I really do. But I'm running a zillion years behind and I'm due at the Modernboys Moderngirls show in two shakes.

But guess what!? ALEXA CHUNG IS IN TOWN! No but really! To have JASON SCHWARTZMAN, TENNESSEE THOMAS AND ALEXA CHUNG in town at the SAME TIME is TOO MUCH FOR ME TO COMPUTE. And... MY BEST FRIENDS ARE HERE! MY BEST FRIENDS ARE BACK FROM LONDON! BOTH OF THEM! TODAY! OH GOD!

NO THIS IS RIDICULOUS! I'm BESIDE MYSELF WITH EXCITEMENT! Only the BEST will do tonight! No holds barred. This is IT! If you could only see me! I've got a stack of shoes on my bed like no other. YSL piled atop of Miu Miu squashing Marc Jacobs jabbing Tods smooshing Celine kissing up on Burberry. Oh GOD what do I DO!?

Drink a glass of wine. That's what I'll do.

I LOVE YOU ALL AND.... I'll find youuuuuuuuuuuuuu

“Whenever I am about to do something, I think: would an idiot do that? And if they would, I do not do that thing.”

— Dwight Schrute

There are things you do because they feel right

& they may make no sense

& they may make no money

& it may be the real reason that we are here:

to love each other & to eat other's cooking & say it was good

Last night I had a dream in which I went to a small, cosy dinner party at Pete and Ashlee Simpson-Wentz' home. I've never had an affinity for either which I suppose should incite me to further investigate the meaning behind this particular nocturnal episode but to be honest? I woke up really happy and felt like I should give both of these young go-getters a second chance. In the dream, they were the kindest of hosts. Both very affable and exceptionally generous. Conversation flowed easily, the food was fabulous and despite their life in the fast lane, they were both wondefully down to earth. So Ash? Pete? Thanks. I had a ball and really, you're both splendid.


The trouble with this delightful weather is that I never want to sleep. I can't bear the thought of missing a moment, terrified that I'll wake up only to find that it's already autumn. I find myself making the silliest excuses to go outside, even when it would be far wiser to be tucked in bed, fast asleep. Last night as I pedaled home barefoot, only moments ahead of dawn, I counted my lucky stars (what was left of them) and for a few brief seconds, wasn't fussing about my next job, my money (oh wait, I mean lack thereof), my plans for the near and not-so-near future. I was just blissfully happy. I hope that I'm not alone in this.

I don't like to think about all the holes on my face.

It makes me think of all the dust and debris that could find their way in and right up to my brain. And then where does that leave me?

With a mussy, fussy brain?

With little bits stuck all over in a very haphazard manner?

Gross. I need to seal up my nose, eyes, mouth and ears and

hope for the best.