Miller Time

UNITED STATES—While I was waiting for that first renter, er, sucker, to walk through that door, see a room and say ‘I love it,’ I got to know the hood. I got to know some of the homeys who hung out on the porch of 1980 Estrella. They slouched and got high, their ink-covered arms raised beer and pot to...

UNITED STATES—At 1980 Estrella Avenue I was free to pursue my screenwriting. I was free to check out “Crime and Punishment” from the library and let it take over my life. I had a lot of hustle and ambition. One night’s extra acting work and window washing in Malibu weren’t enough to put me on easy street. I was...

UNITED STATES—Since writing my own diet book, chronicling my hilarious fat-to-fit journey and culling my diet secrets, to join the towering heap of diets all vying for your undivided, I realize there’s a million diets out there. All YOU have to do it pick out two or three of the million to integrate a plan that works for you....

UNITED STATES—She was a good-natured house, robin’s egg blue hidden in a drab, soot-muted gray, where I’d have my free room on the corner of Estrella Avenue and 22nd Street. Brad, my mentor and savior, gave me a brand-new receipt book where I’d be recording all the names of those USC students clambering to live here. A telephone was...

UNITED STATES—I was flush in confidence, soon to complete a second draft of my screenplay, “The Persecuted,” on my Olivetti portable that fit snugly atop a sun-bleached street find Art Deco table, positioned by the driveway window where my eyes could wander to the tops of the palm trees tall my dreams. I had made a sweet deal to...

UNITED STATES—Two British girls traveling in Los Angeles had met the poet Eric on a bus on his way home from the law office. They came breezing into the living room at Nadeau Dr. one evening around Boone's Farm hour. One of them had slightly buck teeth; they giggled a lot. After that, they kept coming to share their...

UNITED STATES—That June, I got off the Tijuana-downtown Los Angeles bus with one huge suitcase and moseyed over to the house on Nadeau Drive on Victoria Circle. I got back from my first long stay in Mexico to a lotta problems. Los Angeles housing is a problem; getting around is a problem; finding a job is a problem. I...

UNITED STATES—I used to be jealous of opinions because I was around people who were so fluent in opinions. I took it as a sign of their intelligence. They knew French fries were only good when eaten warm, or I should change my 666 phone prefix because the diabolical connotations may prevent some people from calling me. These things...

UNITED STATES—Nothing so entraps a life in mediocrity as inability to decide. It dooms people to limbo, and nevertheless, it’s easy to see why they choose limbo. It’s scary to decide; you want to leave the door open, or at least ajar, to be able to slink back out. Look, you wouldn’t believe it, but a sentence ago I wanted...

UNITED STATES—I totally get it when a friend said after attending a big wedding back east, lots of family and drink, “I’m in detox mode.” I get it. Travel this summer has taken its toll and severely tested my easygoing live-and-let-eat philosophy. I was at the mercy of roadside convenience stores in a dozen states. At one point I was trapped...