One of these days I will encounter what Henry James called on his deathbed “the distinguished thing.” I will not be conscious of the moment of passing. In this life I have already been declared dead. It wasn’t so bad. After the first ruptured artery, the doctors thought I was finished. My wife, Chaz, said she sensed that I was still alive and was communicating to her that I wasn’t finished yet. She said our hearts were beating in unison, although my heartbeat couldn’t be discovered. She told the doctors I was alive, they did what doctors do, and here I am, alive.

An emergency landing in a snow storm in Philadelphia.

Rolling a quad bike.

I’m closer today than I was yesterday.

As a nice person who always put others before myself. I’d also like my own posthumous tartan.

When I was a kid I was a chambermaid in my family’s hotel, and I once found a strap-on that someone had left behind.

Not having my own chatshow. Yet!

A pair of Balenciaga boots. They were extortionate, but that has to be at least 10 years ago and I still wear them.

Martin Scorsese. I was, let’s say, slightly tactile with him during a Q&A; I was more nervous than I’ve been about anything. I kept tapping his knee, it might even have been bruised by the end.

Something that you can’t describe or put in a box. It changes daily and surprises you when you least expect.