MONDAY, 16 OCTOBER, 2000, NEW ORLEANS

In my house in Philadelphia, I asserted my undying and fascinatingly vivacious eternal youth and cleverness by turning my stairwell into the now-infamous Disco Stairs! And now in New Orleans to keep young-at-heart and erect-of-spirit, I spent yesterday afternoon turning the little downstairs W.C. into a Porn Parlour, “wallpapering” the entire thing with a multitude of Playboy magazine covers which I had picked up along my travels. “How youthful! How kicky! What spunk!” (That was your line.) Melusine is in accordance with me that we should complete the Porn Loo with a stack of natty gay porn mags on the back of the toilet to “balance things out.” Good Feng Shui “balances things out” like dat, yo. Ratty gay porn, or maybe your weirder, underground publications: Midget Porn, Bestiality, Foot Fetish Fancier. I wonder if the “crushists” have a periodical containing women in high heels stomping on insects or something. That would be nice. Or watersports. Ladies and gentlemen baptising themselves and their loved ones with their own holy bodily fluids. Golden Showers = hunky dory. Scat Mags = questionable, however. Perhaps too redundant to the function of the room itself. Hmm… In a way, recycling an old folder of magazine covers and using them as wallpaper is très, très Martha Stewart. Should I take photos and send them to her? She might be pleased to receive yet another fussy, frugal home project idea. It’s not all mindless busywork. It takes great skill and care to properly position the Brooke Shields, the Suzanne Sommers and the Joan Collins covers for maximum exposure. Not to mention the Bahbahrah Streisand… Other Home Improvement Projects: Turn the dining room into a bordello saloon. Buy a bar. Put up shelves stocked with grandmother’s top-shelf liqueurs (Blue Curaçao and Crème de Menthe are just very pleasant looking bottles), piano, dart board, red brocade wallpaper, card table, juke box. We might draw the line at hay or peanut shells on the floor however. New Orleans readers: Please keep an eye out for lovely chrome spinny barstools, cheers. Where will we find tightly-corseted ladies to lounge about demi-deshabillées, cutting smokey glances at our guests though? What am I talking about? This is New Orleans, after all. Shouldn’t be a problem. Dubious Ladies are a dime a dozen. I should know. Most of them are already my friends.