Shakespeare & Co

Still awake redux. I am transfixed by the image of President Bush giving a speech on the television. I am wanting to right-click on the remote to check properties, but the administrator has apparently blocked access. When I listen to the President, I get the impression that a program is running out of control on the hard drive and there is no Ctrl/Alt/Delete that can stop it.

Torn between further attempts at sleep and a coffee and croissant at Les Deux Magots, I climb out of bed. Picasso used to sit in a cafe and sketch people. Maybe I'll write about someone I see there and hand them the pages as I leave.

In the same spirit, I determine to visit Shakespeare & Co, which I've wanted to do since Kathleen O'Hara described living there. It was on an invitation-only basis and the quid pro quo was that one had to work a certain number of hours in the book store and write a book during the stay. I always thought that telling a writer he had to write was like commanding a dog to 'speak'. What you end up with is a barking dog.