August 8, 2005
Port of Oakland
Do you know how many times I've been placed at a bar, with a drink and cigarette before me and asked to hunch my shoulders? Eleven times by my count, Diary. It may be higher. It's funny how as an actor you find yourself doing the same things over and over. Before me this morning sat another script with a similar scene. My hair stylist has arrived for a cut. I have a photo I got out of a Paris Match. I had to carefully cut away the caption. My guy claims not to do french haircuts. Manolo leaves for parts south this afternoon. Tradition dictates that I drive him to the airport myself. And tradition dictates with a clarion voice. Who will stop the rain, Diary? Twice on the pipe if the answer is no.