The Americans. So strange. That they would think of playing a child’s game instead of talking seriously about something. How can one ever get to know people if they only want to play games?
And they are always laughing. Why are Americans always laughing? You see it in restaurants all over Paris all the time. The French are talking. The Americans are laughing.
And another thing. Why do American men have better legs than French men? French women often have very nice legs. But French men, almost never. Whereas American men almost always have nice legs.
I’m sure all three of those beauties at the table tonight have good legs. We’ll see in the new play, of course. One of those men claims to be German, but I’m not sure of that at all. There is nothing German about him. And he really doesn’t have any accent in his English as far as I can tell. He didn’t speak much. He doesn’t speak French. It is wrong to be in a country and not speak the language.
That bizarre director, Toca Sacar, asked me to do a series of small speeches during the play in French to explain the text. I probably will do it. What would I wear? Dinner clothes or a dark suit? A toga? No, I could never do that. My friends would find it ridiculous. The dark suit with a rather plain tie. I must exercise more before then.
The Americans are good-looking. I have to admit that. I would like to have a sexual experience with all three of those men who were at the dinner table last night. I would lie on my back and one would sit on me. Then another would enter him from the back so we are both inside of him at the same time. Then the third one would offer me his weapon to put in my mouth. Oh, yes, I can see it quite clearly. Now I must masturbate.