Nashville, my first location gig. The movie was nothing to brag about — Ernest Scared Stupid — but three months away from my shitty Hollywood apartment sounded good. I needed a break […]
“Southern Belles, what’s your name, hon?” “James.” “You feeling naughty tonight, James?”
We sat in Jack’s office, watching the bombs fall in glorious night vision. CNN commentators oohed and ahhed over footage of precision strikes finding their way into air ducts followed by billowing […]
My next film was FX2. The cutting rooms were located at Warner Hollywood, a short walk from my shitty apartment.
I leaned over and peeked at the big sedan’s speedometer: 70-75-80. The car floated on tired springs, body rolling when Kelly jerked between lanes. A Mercedes moved to get over and she […]
Only a nobody walks in L.A., so I started walking.
Near MGM’s building stood a ’50s-themed diner named Ed Debevic’s. The stainless steel, red vinyl, and neon were draws, but the real feature was the staff. The waiters and waitresses at Ed’s […]
It was all in boxes: The books, the tapes, notebooks, cosmetics, and unmentionables; the answering machine I bought her for Christmas when we still lived in Savannah. Every shred of physical evidence […]
This is a story of early ’90s Los Angeles. I don’t remember exactly when this harrowing tale of self discovery occurred, but it was sometime after Boyz n the Hood but prior […]
I am waiting on a stromboli.