So Barthes and Foucault went to wrestling matches together

as someone pointed out at the breakfast table, scoffing at my timidity.
OK, I would have had a better story in my extreme old age if I had accepted Milton Stern's invitation to go back to his hotel room and strip for action so we could settle his worries over TENDER IS THE NIGHT the right way.

But then again I might not have wanted to tell the story . . . .