Hollywood Bus Stop
The Dark Side of Tinsel Town
The year is two thousand and nine. I’m sitting beside the pool at the Hollywood Roosevelt Hotel. And I’m waiting. Waiting, like I always did, in Hollywood. Los Angeles overhead is its usual flawless blue, as if some cosmetic sky surgeon has removed all clouds and creases of grey. Palm trees stretch upward, desperate for rain. But no rain will come. We will all remain dry here, I know that now. Star after star after star will stay pink and dry on The Boulevard. That’sRead the full 5 minute shooting script here:
Hollywood Boulevard, to those of you who have not lived through it.
We – the survivors – haughtily refer to her as ‘The Boulevard’ as if there were no other street in the world.