You found me. This is where I stash the stuff that rattles in my head: true stories, occasional bombshells, vintage photos, and videos I probably should’ve left in a drawer. But here we are. I almost called this site My Charmed Life, but that felt too chirpy. My life’s had charm, sure, but I’m more of a stray dog with a bowtie slapped on than anything polished or predictable. I was born in Selma, Alabama, but raised in Oak Park, Illinois, home of Frank Lloyd Wright and Ernest Hemingway. (One of them built houses. The other drank and complained about writing. Guess which one I relate to.) I took the writer’s path early: wrote for Trapeze, the same high school paper as Ernie, then haunted the campus of Southern Illinois University. Attending class was more of a suggestion. Eventually, I made it to Los Angeles, where I clutched my teenaged checkered past with something like reckless professionalism—equal parts ambition and poor impulse control. I fell into a passionate, combustible relationship (is there any other kind in your early twenties?) with Russell, a hotshot record promoter, and found myself working in the mailroom of one of the world’s biggest talent agencies. I delivered scripts to movie stars, mysterious packages to rock stars, and was once greeted by a young Nick Nolte in his underpants. Still one of my favorite Tuesdays. An even bigger agency poached me after reading my script synopses. I landed at the desk of Martin Baum, famously one of the meanest bosses in Hollywood. He yelled at me daily, publicly, and with real flair. It was mortifying. I loved him. I became a personal manager and signed Howie Mandel early in his career. Then Sandra Bernhard. I produced a few of Howie’s HBO specials and helped shape Sandra’s Without You, I’m Nothing from an off-Broadway sensation into a beloved cult film that still challenges its audience. It remains one of my proudest accomplishments. I was young. I had too much money. And I never met a drug I didn’t at least flirt with at a party.