Addi Luxembourg

Most of my departures are without good-byes. Family and friends have offered to accompany me to airports and train stations. I have told them not to bother. My reason has nothing to do with sad farewells, but an old love for the title of the film NOBODY WAVED GOODBYE, even though I never saw the movie. This year I left Bangkok, Dussefdorf, Koln, and London alone. No good-byes. No tears. No sorrow. A day ago Madame l'Ambassador's driver accompanied me to Aeroport Luxembourg. Francois didn't understand why I had to go two hours ahead of time. I explained about my fear of missing flights. It has happened twice and I've never counted the times that I've arrived late at a train station. "Pas de problem." Francois might not have understood my phobia, but he was Madame l'Ambassador's driver and I was the unofficial writer in residence. My wish was my command. Arriving at the aeroport I understood his quixotic opinion. The Grand Duchy is a small country and the airport terminal was correspondingly tiny. The queue before the check-in counter consisted of me. Francois smiled with pleasure. He had delivered me to the airport in time. I walked him outside to the Jaguar and before he got into the car, he waved good-bye. "Come back soon." It was a good thing to here and I shouted back. "I will." Maybe I should make this good-bye thing a habit. It feels good.

Safe And Sound

Seven months ago I left my apartment in Fort Greene for Thailand and an extended stay in Europe as the unofficial writer in residence in Luxembourg. Yesterday morning I departed from the Grand Duchy aeroport and arrived at JFK in the late afternoon. For once my bag was the first off the gigantic A380 and I cleared passport control and customs within minutes to catch the air shuttle to Howard Beach and the A train onward to Fort Greene. I trudged to South Oxford Street with my heavy bag strapped over my shoulder. The neighborhood looked the same and I approached the brownstone with key in hand. It didn't work and I rang the buzzer. My landlord opened the door with a smile and a hug. AP's happiness had very little to do with my owing several months' rent. He was a good friend long before he became my landlord. "Have you lost weight?" I asked dropping my bag on the polished wooden floor. "I don't think so." "Really?" I didn't think so either, but I know everyone loves to hear that question. "Let's get you upstairs." AP hefted my bag and we climbed the four flights of stairs to the top floor and opened the door. It looked practically the same as when I had departed for Asia in July. No one had slept in the bed and the place actually seemed clean. "How's it feel?" "Like I never left." And that was a weird feeling. Nothing is ever the same, but I could tell no one stayed here in my absence. AP and I went into the kitchen. My bottle of Jameson's was untouched and I searched for two shot glasses. There were none, because there never had been any. "A toast." I was a half world away from my children and 3500 miles from the residence. "Why not?" AP was a like mind. "To a safe return." I lifted the bottle to my lips. The whiskey tasted of Ireland. I passed the bottle to AP. He took a long tug. These were hard times, but they were always better with friends. I was back in Brooklyn. Safe and sound.

A DANGEROUS METHOD - MOVIE

This past month in Thailand I bought a number of DVDs from the bootleggers in Sri Racha and Bangkok. The quality of each one was less than 90%, but at my house the TV is tuned to either Thai TV or my son Fenway's cartoons, so I retreat to our bedroom to view the poorly recorded films, one of which was A DANGEROUS METHOD. This movie recounted the psychological menage a trois between Carl Jung, Sigmund Freud, and Sabina Spielrein played by Keira Knightley. Her interpretation of Jung's patient was marked by the tightening of the jaw, whenever Sabrina entered into one of her manic stages. I was so unsettled by this mirroring of my own psychosis that I ejected the DVD from my laptop and later threw it in the trash. She was that good. Maybe I'll get to see it on a plane. Even though it's not really a plane movie.

You Bet I Would # 13 / A 2fer.

Stunning Keira Knightley by Norman Jean Roy for GQ March 2012, styled by Sascha Lilic in a Yves Saint Laurent jumpsuit and a pair of Gucci heels.

Stunning Keira Knightley by Norman Jean Roy for GQ March 2012, styled by Sascha Lilic in Maison Martin Margiela jacket and Gucci shorts

- 8 Centigrade Luxembourg

Last evening Madame l'Ambassador drove from Oxford to Luxembourg in frigid temperature. The interior of the Porsche Boxster was well-heated and I dozed off several times in the passenger seat. Upon waking each time I asked, if she wanted me to drive. Thankfully Madame l'Ambassador refused every offer, as the Porsche ate the motorways of England, France, Belgium, and Luxembourg. On one occasion a bump woke me. I rubbed my eyes and put on my glasses. It was 2am and we were not on the autoroute, but a small side road in a dark suburb. "Where are we?" "Someplace near Lille." Madame l'Ambassador explained that she had missed the turning for Bruxelles. "I'm trying to find an entrance to the autoroute." I sat up in my seat and surveyed our surroundings. No signs indicated the right direction and the sky was blanketed by ominous snow clouds. Madame l'Ambassador was not accepting advice. She had erred exiting from the autoroute, but had a sense of where she should be other than the frozen purgatory of here. The temperature gauge on the dashboard read - 5 Centigrade or 20 Fahrenheit. It wasn't arctic conditions, but winter had finally come to Northern Europe. Madame l'Ambassador and I argued through the outskirts of Lille, but she finally found the autoroute and we were soon zooming at 90 mph or 150 kph. Luxembourg was two hours to the east. The highway was apocalyptically empty. Most of the trucks were parked in the rest areas and only a few cars braved the post-midnight solitude. Snow covered the ground after Namur and deepened in the Ardennes. We arrived at the Residence a little before 5am. The two of us unpacked the car and hurried into bed. Madame l'Ambassador to hers and I to mine on the top floor. Before going to sleep I touched the window. If it had been metal, then my flesh would have stuck. Glass was much more forever and I hoped than dawn would bring some light. I was back in Mittel Europa.

When Mitt Romney Comes To Town

Mitt Romney THE # 1 GOP candidate for president has been touting his record as a job creator. "I spent my whole life in the private sector, 25 years in the private sector. I understand that when government takes more money out of the hands of people, it makes it more difficult for them to buy things. If they can't buy things, the economy doesn't grow. If the economy doesn't grow, we don't put Americans to work." Read more: http://www.brainyquote.com/quotes/authors/m/mitt_romney.html#ixzz1l0pc1Kko The following film shows another angle on the Republican front runner. His holding company BAIN destroyed a number of American companies in order to sell off the capital assets. Greed for profits. Please go to this URL to view WHEN ROMNEY COMES TO TOWN The story of when the American Dream wasn't enough. http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=BLWnB9FGmWE

Jowls of Death

Last Wednesday I crossed the Channel to the UK and for the last several days and nights I have been wandering around London; seeing the film FLANGAGAN'S WAKE at Bafta, visiting the National Art Gallery for a viewing of David Hockney's exhibition, walking in Richmond Park, strolling through Putney and hampstead Heaths, drinking at the Harp Pub outside Waterloo, and a teenage party in Nottinghill Gate. It was good seeing my friends and meeting new people, but the constant craving for attention left little time for writing, so please excuse my absence over the last week. It was well intentioned. Tonight it's back to Luxembourg and then a flight to New York. "Start spreading the news." The Jowls of Death is coming your way.