Poor us. We were so close to seeing David Foster Wallace and George Saunders, and the theater filled up right as we had nearly reached the door. It's okay. Sangria and rubbery calamari provided solace. I've been working for this man, covering for a friend who is doing a play in Poland. He has MS, and I help him type and turn pages as he cannot do these things. His wheelchair is operated by mouthpiece and head button. He has many famous friends who I type e-mails to and aid in telephoning to arrange dinners with champagne and other treats. He is writing a film review of Visconti's The Leopard and with my friend is translating a play called "The Magnificent Cuckold" from French. I am very fond of him, and he has nice pets, particularly his cat Bones. I am very tired though.