Right now it's only a notion, but I think I can get the money to make it into a concept, and later turn it into an idea.

I'd call him a sadistic, hippophilic necrophile, but that would be beating a dead horse.

Should I marry W? Not if she won't tell me the other letters in her name. And what about her career? How can I ask a woman of her beauty to give up the Roller Derby? Decisions...

I do believe that reality is dreadful and that you are forced to choose it in the end or go crazy, but that it kills you.

I'm not a drinker, my body won't tolerate...eh...spirits, really. I had two martinis New Years Eve and I tried to hi-jack an elevator and fly it to Cuba.

We laughed over it, and Hemingway punched me in the mouth.

I don't like to reminisce much, and my walls don't have photographs of me and the actors I was with, or any of that stuff... I try and keep that disciplined, and just work. There are so many traps you can get into, and looking back on your own work is certainly one of them.