The Hills of Beverly

So besides Mimi getting obedience training("That's a smart dog you've got there," said Howard,who has settled down the dogs of Sylvester Stallone and Gloria Vanderbilt, to name drop but a few) I have started a new novel and gotten new eyes. That is to say I had Lasik surgery, which, except for some hairy moments that felt like'A Clockwork Orange' without their playing Beethoven, seems to have gone well. So I can sit here in the kitchen where I work, and, without my glasses, see to shining sea, except that it is obscured by low-lying smog, these people in this most beautiful part of America if you like weather,continuing to foul their own nest, in addition to electing Arnold. To give you some idea of what it is like in Beverly Hills, the opthamologist who performed the surgery has his office in a building where as you waited for an elevator a TV above the elevator doors had running along the bottom of its screen news of Disney's merger with Pixar, besides stock quotations.
To begin on the unraveling of the mystery which cornerstones the novel, I must have some input from a real detective as to how they would proceed,so I tried the LAPD who said I would have to audition, send an outline of the plot and see if anyone would be interested. But it is too good a plot to give to the LAPD, all of whom doubtless have screenplays or series in their sock drawer waiting only for the right arrest to negotiate a deal with a producer/director/actor/murderer. So instead, I called the Beverly Hills police, and connected with Detective Tad Nelson("Is that his screen name?" my darling friend Lisa asked) who said he would be delighted to meet with me but needed the okay of his lieutenant. I left a very long voicemail on the Lieutenant's line, explaining the difference between a "book,' as Tad told him it was, and a "novel," which is FICTION I said several times very clearly, knowing how the lines are blurred in the minds of the public even after Lasik surgery, confused even further by the beloathed James Frey, and assured the Lieutentant. I would reveal nothing of Beverly Hills police secrets, or, in fact, reality, that the crime doesn't even take place in Beverly Hills. So I am waiting to hear from him, and, while waiting, went for a check with my eye doctor and rode in the elevator with policeman Ross Sharp(his screen name?) who said that Tad was a great guy. We called him then on the cop's cell, had a very pleasant chat, and i am still waiting.
Meanwhile various buddies in Paris are helping me with my research there, as one of my characters was born in Paris. Walter Wells, my most esteemed and lovely editor friend who recently headed the Herald Tribune has done me the service of fictionally hiring her and telling me what her job would be but has cautioned me against making her too nubile lest she be cut off at the pass by an incredibly competetive bitch who works there in reallife. Oh, I do love it when my favorite pals are not only helpful but funny, which is why, no doubt, they are my favorite pals.
So Mimi can Sit, Stay, Come, Back off(that's not one of his regular commands but i have incorporated it into our lives together.) And I can see! I can see! So I am hopeful that starting tomorrow I will be working full time on my book, so don't worry if you don't hear from me.
The doctor who performed the surgery drove me home in my temporary fuzz last night, as his son goes to Beverly High, which is directly opposite the apartment building where i'm staying. He was picking up his son, so was glad to do it, at no inconvenience, and said to me today "What are the odds on that, that you would be living exactly where I pick up my son?"and suggested I buy a raffle ticket. I'd rather just write a book and go for a jackpot. BUT!!!! Saturday night at midnight is the Chinese Lunar New Year, so turn on all your lights and open all your windows and doors so Luck can find you this year of the Dog,which I am, what are you? And maybe the lights will be out where Karl Rove lives, and it'll end for these jokers,finally.