Hell's bells, journalism is not for me. The poor things, against a back drop of fake glamour that wants to be reported. It's tired around here. Everything is spread out, and one cinema is a kilometre away. I hate to report in this manner but the only way to get around is by bicycle. I love a bicycle ride, but not here, where you are constantly sent around in circles by banks of policemen. I am just not used to arriving in a sweaty heap and being treated like staff!.
I bumped into my girlfriend Christina Juffali. She looked like a princess that needed a cake. Beautiful, ravishing in shoes that made her tower over my 6ft companion, wearing a champagne coffee number from Valentino, with oodles of net and grey lace, I wanted to jump on the red carpet with her. Instead I understood jealousy..
Do not be afraid if journalists are rude, crude, ungracious, they have had a rough ride getting here. For them Venice is not a glamourous parade of dresses and parties, the nearest they are going to get is a ladder and peering over some fat man's shoulder. "THIS IS THE FIRST AND LAST TIME I AM DOING THIS", I thought as I rushed around trying to find the cinema. My experiment in living a real life is over.
The good thing is that it is reported that the opening film Black Swan by Darren Aronofsky, born on February 12th 1969,and starring Natalie Portman, is incredible. It made one journalist swim with emotion and declare that it should win the prize for best film and plenty of Oscars. A director who I met two nights ago looked just out of school. There is a new generation of film makers - young, good looking and active on small budgets. Watch out Hollywood.
But back to last night's fiasco. The truth is that, after being pushed around by 200 lazy looking policeman, and dealing with signposts that went to nowhere, I screamed for my water boat and dashed off with Susan Kleinberg, an audio-visual artist who had got stuck on the quayside, to the Cipriani for a little luxury. My friend ate his heart out on rice and duck.... I sulked and dreamt of a meringue dress. Last night I felt like Cinderella, and I was wearing Dolce.