Los Angeles is sunny and glorious. Nobody can dampen my happiness. My house is coming together and I have been well looked after by my friends. All the furniture has now gone in place and I have to find some things belonging to Janet Leigh. I like the idea that she still reigns over the house in some mysterious way.
I am moving from the Beverly Hills Hotel today which is tragic as there is so much fun on the terrace. Last night the ageless Joan Collins and her husband Percy were having dinner with her sister Jackie, she was looking more glamorous than any other woman in the room. The lobby action in the hotel is remarkable.
The only problem I have is that I don't sleep and this makes me ratty. I have done so many projects this year, finishing a new book of my poetry with Vincenzo DeMaar and edited by Tim Willis. The house in Los Angeles, two flats sold, my house in London nearly finished.
So I am tired and excited all at same time. Life is good.
I was lying bed last night worrying, 100 whales died before the earthquake in New Zealand. Revolutions all over the Middle East, the domino effect, spreading throughout, and it will go further than we think. Nostradamus was not wrong n'or the Aztecs. We live in terrifying and addictive times.
While this is going on the parties started in Hollywood for this years Oscars. Harvey Weinstein's with Dior last night at the Chateau Marmont another at Soho House for the Richemont Group, given by Pilar Boxford. It was in the private room and I saw my lovely friend Eric Buterbaugh, the best florist in Beverly Hills. My prediction is The Kings Speech will rule along with Social Network. The rest except for Beautiful are not up to scratch.