Last night, I walked around the block a couple times. I passed the Frick. Man, what a house! I tried to imagine living there like Henry Clay did. I'd love that garden and have breakfast every morning while I lived there. Well, in good weather. I'd have my coffee and watch the carriages go up and down Fifth Avenue. And I'd hang out with all the wealthy people. Ugh. I'm both attracted and repelled by the wealthy. On one hand, I'd love their wealth, but on the other hand, the women seem no happier than me. I know that more than half of them have had plastic surgery and are starving themselves. Social x-rays. The men are probably all looking at each others stock portfolios and Southampton house. And that Getty Jr. died. He was kidnapped and had his ear cut off and no one bailed him out! That's what his family thought of him.
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