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She moves around pretty fast herself. Within 24 hours of her arrival in Los Angeles, she had a driver's license. At home she likes to gun her Lancia up the Autobahn at 125 m.p.h. In her first month as an American driver, she was arrested twice. "What business have policemen being out there at 5:30 in the morning?" she asks. "They should be home in bed."
She paints, reads much, composes, has recorded her own songs, and knows that her bread is buttered with controlled eccentricity. For breakfast, for instance, she puts raisins, Rice Krispies, maple syrup, malt, and chocolate topping into a saucepan, heats it and eats it. "The press created me," she says. "I wouldn't dare to be normal."