Theft by Finding - David Sedaris

I went to Little, Brown and talked to H., who filled me in on the new Kevyn Aucoin book. The other
night, just before his appearance at Barnes and Noble, he called saying he’d need a bodyguard. He’s
not snippy but says these things in all sincerity. He needed the bodyguard in case the NRA decided to
retaliate for a remark he’d made in a Time Out interview. To him it made perfect sense that the
National Rifle Association might send a hit man to kill Cher’s makeup artist; his political views are
too extreme and sooner or later the Republicans will have to silence him. H. denied the request for a
bodyguard, so Kevyn hired his own. He’s going next week to his hometown in Louisiana and called to
demand that Little, Brown arrange to award him the keys to the city. The keys to the city don’t really
count if you have to ask for them yourself, but H. went ahead and wrote to the mayor. Last night Kevyn
was supposed to be at Bendel’s from five to nine and decided to show up at around eight. I love
hearing about this guy.
October 16, 2000
Philadelphia
There’s a scale in the hotel bathroom and I found out that I weigh 131 pounds. The last time I
weighed in, I was 157, but that was before moving to France; 131 is too low. It’s a weakling’s
weight. I’d like to get up to 140 but still have a flat stomach and a thirty-inch waist. Is that possible?
October 20, 2000
Springfield, Missouri
Springfield has got to be the most depressing city in the United States. The trip from the airport to
the hotel was hideous, and things didn’t improve much between here and Hammons Hall. The land is
flat and covered with failed strip malls and chain stores surrounded by empty parking lots. From my
window I can see a Big Kmart (aren’t they all big?), a Walmart, an ALDI, an AutoZone, a Donut
Connection, a Master Wang’s Chinese restaurant, a Western Sizzlin’, and a Git ’n’ Go. Most towns
have such a strip, but here even the McDonald’s is failing to thrive. You get the idea people would
leave if they could only sell their houses and summon up the energy to pack.
Branson, Missouri, is forty-five miles to the south, and the fact is heavily advertised. It’s aspiring
to be the new country-music capital, and the Springfield roads are hugged by billboards for the
Osmond Family Theater, the Grand Mansion, the Grand Palace, Bonniebrook Park, Shepherd of the
Hills Outdoor Christian Theater, the Dixie Stampede, and the Dewey Short Visitors Center. I’ve
chosen to take my few days off in Chicago but actually wouldn’t have minded going to Branson to see
one of the two musicals based on the life of Jesus. I could then see Andy Williams and Jeff Foxworthy
at the Grand Palace and eat dinner at Buckingham’s Restaurant and Oasis. Then again…
On Wednesday my watch broke, so yesterday I went across the street to the saddest mall in America.
Half the stores were shuttered up and the fountain had been drained. The food court was gone except