red.

These are photos of the Plaza Athénée and a random red door in Paris. I would love to go all over Europe just to take pictures of red doors. But the title of this entry also reminded me of when I first moved to L.A. and I worked at the restaurant red. With a lower case "r" and a period. At Beverly and Vista. It was a popular place, but mindbendingly stressful. The owner was a monster, and I don't care who on the internet knows it. It was miserably managed. I was in charge of training new waiters, who invariably left sessions because they had to audition for some MTV reality show.

But it was a blast, too, with all kinds of colorful celebrities and L.A. characters. I remember the first I ever waited on--David Caruso. I was starstruck out of my mind and fascinated by how orange his hair was. Bobby Roth ate there every single day with Pam Springsteen, and I loved him because he was so unabashedly Hollywood Director Guy. Kevin Spacey about every other day, usually in dark sunglasses. Edward Norton was really nice and an excellent tipper.

There was one notorious character actor/drug addict who came in one Saturday morning and, after making himself quadruple shot Bloody Mary's behind the bar, was CRAWLING THE WALLS because he was withdrawing off heroin. I shit you not. I have never seen anyone literally crawling the walls. Bobby Roth was at the next booth with his 15-year-old son and friends who had just celebrated his birthday the night before. BR did not bat an eyelash. I gave the actor my best "I used to live this way too, but I don't anymore" pearl of wisdom because I was newly sober and thought I could heal the world. He got kind of emotional, went out to someone's yard, picked me a flower and left.

And that is my first official blind item. It will remain "blind" as I do not have a lawyer for my blog yet. And yes, I said "yet".

But my favorite memory was of talking to Mark Z. Danielewski who was just about to publish his book House of Leaves. He would let me hold the galleys, but he would not let me read it. He was so nice and totally dreamy, it made me weak allover. Once he asked me, "are you writing Lexa? Every day?" I almost fainted. I had a huge crush, and it was weird because my best friend from high school is named Daniel Zalewski. I felt like there was a divine connection between us, but I am also kind of a spaz. I did read the book when it was published and loved it. It was fascinating and maddening, horrifying and moving. But I haven't read his second book. Maybe I'll do that before the year is up.