Sometimes I Forget

Who TF I Am

When I was four or five I lived on Fletcher Drive in LA across the street from some park whose name I forgot long ago. I was in that park one day when a film crew was shooting something. I watched from a distance and decided I wanted to do that too. So I marched over to the guy I thought was in charge and asked if I could. He was amused and told me I needed a parent’s permission so I ran my happy ass across the street to our apartment and interrupted my dad’s Dodgers game. A massive no-no; Dodgers games were my dad’s time to himself.

Dad was annoyed and disbelieving. But I was a pain in the ass about it and he knew his son was a relentless little shit, so he acquiesced and walked across the street with me. I don’t remember what was said, or if anything was signed. I do know that two weeks later we were in Hollywood recording a back to school commercial for The May Company.

I wanted to do a thing so I did the fucking thing.

When I was in little league I was always infield. I hated it. …