Metro, jazz with deep-legged slinky bass, dusky pool-hall, studly alpine-cabin/lurid-diner furniture forcedly strung together with standard French trinkets. Duck rillettes strangely spiked with Arabian spice, onion soup passable, steak au poivre a tad insipid but redeemed by molassessey sauce and exemplary wilted spinach, chocolate souffle emaciated and stiffened, coconut sorbet clingy.

I desperately need to renovate my social strategy. I confess I am loathe to "work" at networking, but enough is enough. More self-determinacy, I say. "All unavoided is the doom of destiny. / True, when avoided grace makes destiny".

Ann Coulter, Liberalism and Terrorism: Two Stages of the Same Disease.
Godard's à bout de souffle.
I think I'll watch Babette's Feast again.