LA LA LAND
It's all here. Everything is in LA. La la la la la la la la...
I'm at the Westin Century Plaza Hotel in Century City, which is real close to West Hollywood. The architecture of the buildings around here is interesting. The cars are new and expensive. The air is oceanic with smell, and damp. The mall is a showcase of external desires. It all seems so exaggerated. It all seems so California.
But it's different than northern CA. My breakfast this morning was a bowl of oatmeal, and a tomatoe, mushroom and ham omlette...$32. Damn!
I had to call the boss man and warn him about the ol' expense report!
I'm off to my heavenly bed..

The alarm clock was difficult this morning with the Living room of L’Agriculture. Not so much because the exhibitors had the " hangover " or that the cows and the bulls were passably irritated, but because all this beautiful world was late on L’time. Cock N’had not sung on the Door of Versailles and, for the first time of L’history of this living room, the sound of the clock had replaced the cackle of gallinacés.
But C’is thus. During ten days, it will be necessary S’to accustom to combine calves, cows, pigs without… brooded. To be unaware of L’poultry farming without never ceasing D’speaking about it. To eat chicken legs all while being satisfied to look at the posters.
Because, quoiqu’it arrives, and whatever the performances of our meat breedings, the aviary influenza will be with the " menu " of the living room. One L’saw well, yesterday, with the visit of the President of the Republic which has D’elsewhere be equal to itself. Sympathizing for L’Ain, encouraging for the others, Jacques Chirac exhorted the French to buy chicken, with the same passion which L’brought, formerly, via its puppet, to propose apples to them. It thus distributed culinary councils and salutary handshakes, joining to it epic to the word and consuming with full mouthful two or three specimens of the country of Bresse.
Truer than true. One would have believed oneself at the Puppets of L’Info.
The professionals will have S’to accustom to this difficult absence also curiously presents. Obligatory with the pause lunch and non-existent in the alleys. Because, even S’they wanted L’to forget, they will be, each day, caught up with by chicken. Each sixty announced personality will want to taste indeed there and go there from its own verse on the subject. It will be known thus, for example, if Ségolène Royal prefers L’wing or the thigh, if Nicolas Sarkozy has a preference or not for tail and if Lang Jack keeps weak for the carcass. No one will not want to be in remainder. No one will not be miserly solutions. And S’there is extremely to bet that, this year, the croup of Charolaise will be a little scorned, it will be, hope for it, for the good cause, to save the die as well as... our health.