I can not go without mentioning this week's birthday party of our dear friend, The Count la Mot, Luis here of the right with some white trash he picked up (only kidding, Steven). The Count has devoted his life to charitable events; he is an incredible social force in this town. I am honored he is a close friend. The other one, however......well I had better be nice or I won't have lights in my office. He took over Club 721 for the event, a wise move to a decent venue.

Meanwhile, Mrs. Stuyvesant-Fish reminded me that I had ceded all social power to her several weeks ago, during a moment of my deepest depression as my relationship fell apart. Well, Mamie, I have climbed out of my hole; you needn't think absolute power lasts forever. I have invited The Countess du Barry down from Newport to re-establish the the bi-power order of things (and I don't mean it to be equal, dear). You enjoyed three weeks of absolute, social power only to squander it on young boys, booze, and coke. Ymmm, maybe you had something there.

The Countess du Barry blew into town like a New England Hurricane and quickly tried to make it appear that she owned it again. She started with her extravagant table settings. M.s Stuyvesant-Fish and I had all we could do except call in a Chinook helicopter to take her out. Still, it was great fun to have the leaders of Society together again; still, Alva belongs in Newport and let Mamie and myself battle out to be the contender of "Beloved Leader of Society". Too many potatoes in the pot can cause trouble.

Well, our circus party at Twist was even more extravagant than I expected. I left my clown suit at home (it had a stain on it); but if you want to see something spectacular here it is: http://www.twistsobe.com/twist_photosthumb.asp?galcatid=167.

Meanwhile life goes one; Mrs. Stuyvesant-Fish has been stopping by most days to send support and nastiness; The Baroness seems to have been engulfed in her endless cases of red wine.

What can I say? the last month has been Hell. Leopoldo decided that he was so popular that he didn't need me. Surely he is handsome and engaging, and I know the monster I created. There are always fun shoes.

He is trying to leave as soon as possible; that is difficult in this town. We had a fine four years. But the best thing about it is that there was a gentleman whom I met a year ago and stayed in contact here and there, who told me a month ago that he saw what was happening and that he wanted to step in in the the end. Right now, he is Mr. E, but will soon be Mr. A.

Well, at long last I am back to reporting what goes on in a town where fascinating evils that can ruin any weakness abound. This was a shot of the infamous croquet game at the Wickenhammer/Fiorello estate began. It would be pointless to focus in on the peculiarities of the participants, but leave it to say that Alva--in the most New Port, R.I. way--bossed herself around as if she owned the town. Mrs. Stuyestant-Fish countered by filing her plate with enough food to feed Sudan. Fortunately, Alva was off-set by the social magnitude of Mrs. Stuyvesant-Fish, who continually engaged her in verbal jousting all day. I decided to play Swiss, and be neutral for the short time I stayed. I was called away by a work emergency and could not stay for the match, itself; but, then, I understand most of the participants couldn't stand for the game, and ended up at Twist. Still, civility, survived (for a day).

God only knows what has happened in the last two weeks. "Season" here on Miami Beach has a way of taking over one's life. Last weekend we escorted Henrietta on the usual tour of clubs; amazingly, when I used to drink I could only last until 2 AM and there I was at 4 AM prying Leopoldo and Henrietta off of the bar and still wanting to stay later. On Sunday I attended a luncheon where there seemed to be no solid food and got convinced that I had to meet Henrietta at The Palace at two. This led us to Twist, which led to stripper boys. I never knew being sober could be such fun; everyone around us were acting like idiots (so much for the glimpse of one's past).
It was bound to happen sooner or later, and Alva Vanderbilt flew down from Newport. The entire social apple cart was overturned.

Mrs. Stuyvesant-Fish immediately tried to enlist Alva into a motion to strip me of some social powers. Little did she know, that Newporters stick together in times like these. Alva said she was going to grind Mrs. S-F into a 60/40 chuck; Mrs. S-F retaliated by saying she was going to get revenge for what "you Yankees" stripped the South of. All I know is that we are all attending a croquet party at the Wickenhammer's's estate today at two and it isn't going to be pretty. I, of course, will be pretty; I will be in white and tan--classic, but restrained. I will also have a bullet-proof vest and a poisoned hat pin.