End production today. Wrap party as usual a little sad. Slow danced with Scarlett. Broke her toe. Not my fault. When she dipped me back, I stepped on it. Penélope and Javier anxious to work with me again. Said if I ever come up with another screenplay to try and find them. Goodbye drink with Rebecca. Sentimental moment. Everyone in cast and crew chipped in and bought me a ballpoint pen.

There's a tacit agreement between myself and the audience that I will entertain them when they buy their ticket, and I've been the one that has screwed that up. Once in while I indulge myself and try something else, and I keep my fingers crossed that it will come out good and there'll be enough people who will enjoy it, but that doesn't often happen.

I don't like to reminisce much, and my walls don't have photographs of me and the actors I was with, or any of that stuff. I try and keep that disciplined, and just work. There are so many traps you can get into, and looking back on your own work is certainly one of them.

Side Effects Not only is there no God, but try getting a plumber on the weekend. Woody Allen Sex alleviates tension. Love causes it.

In short, the best thing to do is behave in a manner befitting one's age. If you are sixteen or under, try not to go bald.

I'm trying to arrange my life so I don't have to be present.

I don't believe in God. Just try getting a plumber on the weekend.