This is a story of a “piece of shit screenwriter” who lived in Los Angeles. Not really lived though, I was just hiding out, hoping they didn’t “get me”.

I lived in Hollywood. First, just off Santa Monica Blv. down where a lot of the editing happens now a days. Back then it was a bit seedier, we had a big fence though so we could keep the homeless out. It was a bit of a compound, in a neighborhood that had seen much better days. A house in front, nice house, nice neighbor even with the Harley. A duplex in back, I lived in the right side in a very, very small apartment, but it was nice. Had a little patio, tiny kitchen, little bedroom. Cost: $525 a month. I lived there for one year.