I'm kicking myself in the ass for forgetting to bring my camera last night. It was a long day, but well worth the effort to attend one of the biggest parties of the year; just about everyone turned out for the sixteenth birthday party of Twist. Not only did we dance with Henrietta, but she treated the club with her first performance on stage since 1969, singing "On A Clear Day". It was surreal. Somehow, we managed to stay out until 5 AM, as did everyone else. Some day the bill will come due.
Once again, I thank the owners and management of Twist; this is night manager, Cyra, and Twist accountant, Robert, with Leopoldo last Friday. Only Twist can host an open bar for the entire town for three hours; we avoided that cattle rush as we had so many drink tickets. The entire town is hung over today; now I have the impending departure of Mr. Astor for a long weekend to deal with. I hate to be alone, so he has turned me over to the guardianship of Mrs. Stuyvesant-Fish. This is what the town received by official cable from her people: "Mrs. SF is preparing an official communique to all watering holes in South beach. They're being advised to not over serve our dear Caroline.Her proclivity for getting into scuffles with inanimate objects defies all rationale. Oh hell..I'm off on Friday and plan on boozing it up all afternoon; perhaps Mrs. Astor will take time off from her needlework and join me?" This is how she taunts the town...and me.

And, poor Ruth Madoff...forced to take the subway. She admonished the photographer with a snap of whether he was happy to destroy her life. Poor thing, she just doesn't get it. Her husband destroy her life.