I had just had a second meeting for a TV pilot that may shoot in Chicago. I felt pretty good about it, but you can never really tell. It wasn’t a “dicks in the dirt” feeling, but good enough. I’m in the mustang with the top down listening to tunes, and “I Come Running Back”comes on. At first it’s fun; a snappy tune that’s fun to drive to. Then your face lands smack dab in the middle of my mind, like some huge bug that hit the windshield and won’t get out of the center of my vision. I was being assaulted by memories and by your face. I must have looked like some crazy person because I literally yelled “fuck you” and had to change the song. Thin Lizzy may be ruined for me now.