Unfortunately it seemed like everyone that night knew Amber, so the interview was finished as she smiled and waved to her friends, who were waiting for me to put down the pad and stop talking to her. By then Patrick too was gone. So I went back to the bar, grabbed a beer, and set myself to talking. The party itself, despite what I might have first thought of it, turned out to be a pretty decent time. I met a man who turned out to be one of the most interesting people there.
“So how do you like the art?” I asked.
“Where is it?” He looked around the store. “Listen, I’ll tell you what art is, check this out.” He brought me over to a dresser, opening the drawer and giving it a push. Sliding inward, just at the last inch it slowed and eased itself back into place. “Give it a try. That’s art.”
As much as I want to attribute a certain pretentiousness to fame and celebrity, I guess you can’t really be judging books by their covers, especially not in this day and age.Before leaving completely, I stepped outside to have myself a cigarette and who else did I run into but my new friend, “These parties are all bullshit,” he said to me. “They’re just a bunch of people taking pictures of themselves so they can show each other the pictures they just took of themselves.” Inside a man takes a digital photo of three women and turns around to show them how it came out. “And you can quote me on that.”
Thanks Danny. I think I will.
