The Script of Doom
23:47 PM / Griffith Hills, Frank's Apartment The rain in Los Angeles doesn't wash anything. It just makes the existing filth wet. I sat in my apartment on the hillside below Griffith Observatory, a half-empty bottle of Jameson between my fingers and a laptop screen glowing like a confession booth. Third studio fired me this month. I don't keep track of the exact number anymore. The number...
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