Last night people were getting ready for a huge party. I had to kill Sting in self-defense. I told Pacino I learned early on that just when you think the villain is dead, he jumps up and tries to kill you again. Dafoe said not to worry, and wrapped the body up in a blue tarp and threw it to the bottom of the very large pool. He understood completely.
Some college girls were trying to get me to go along with them on their roadtrip. They were all actors. This girl said they were doing a Jane Austin play. I asked which one, and she said “the one Saturday Night Live funded”. A college boy and I retorted simultaneously- “no, that was Norman Mailer.” I walked upstairs and there were a group of college boys, two of them were fighting about Star Wars or something. I thought, man, I should hook these two groups up. I went back downstairs and said “hey- do you want me to introduce you to those guys upstairs,” and a girl said “are they hot?” I said “Well….”
The pool had been temporarily closed to accommodate the halved and tarped bodies, but the swim area and the diving boards would soon be reopened during the ensuing party. And a festive one it would be. There were cooks in funny hats preparing large buffets, and djs in cages covered with fake foliage preparing their turntables with tinfoil.
