No Rest For The Damned
I really thought I could escape the calamity of this town for a day, but was inundated with cables from The Palace. I had stopped by early to see if riot gear was needed (mine were all at the cleaners), but at 11.oo all was calm. I had a meeting with Jaime at the Diner when cables started to arrive; the police had arrived at The Palace and threatened the management with not only arresting them if a show was put on, but the customers, too. I informed the bar manager that they were talking nonsense, it was illegal, and the best thing to do was to say, "Bring it on", because the publicity would be priceless. Suddenly, Code Enforcement showed up and told the police to go home. How rich: internal struggles mean the queens go on.
In the meantime, who walks into Twist but the Countess du Barry now in The Witness Protection Program as the Countess von Cartier (it would take them a long time to figure that one out, wouldn't it). I mean, she walked in--unannounced--as if she owned the place. When confronted with that, she replied, "I do". Typical Newport; just too, too typical. We had a blast.
Tomorrow, we will have the first of Henrietta's book signings at Twist (7 PM); it's a little too, soon for my thinking, but whatever The Queen wants, she gets.
Then, on Wednesday, we hold the first fund-raiser for the new organization, Yes, We Care at Halo--now Mova. In the meantime, I have two doctor visits for the hand, the liver, the mind, the endless thinking about KiKi, and on and on. Some day, rest will come.