And I'm about to eat a meal at Emmett's with the cast of Bright Lights, Big City, before attending the premiere and after party at Nil Gleeson's pad. It's sweltering but there's a nice breeze. Michael is sweating hard and cracking jokes, his voice rough from all the rum he's been necking. I just just smile and nod and offer him another cigarette. It's going to be a long night and I don't want to burn out too soon so I'm drinking iced tea and thinking about Traci Miles, that poor, trapped gymnast, stuck in Paris while the party happens here, right here. Ahh, Traci. So sad. Michael tells me that burrito joke again and I tell him to shut up and then we decide to go and annoy James Bridges who is drinking double whiskey and sodas and who I guarantee is going to pass out later on Kiefer Sutherland's couch.