For me, the idea of being a successful actor is hanging out with my dogs and my boy, down in Venice beach, and going, "I don't have to audition today. I've got a little respite here."
I live in one of the coastal cities in Southern California, and every so often I like to take a walk down the boardwalk in Venice during the weekends when it is abuzz with lively activity.
Venice Beach: proof of the biological impossibility of imagining a person being simultaneously good-looking and poor.
I moved to New York when I was almost 21 and I've lived there for almost eight years, now I have a totally different relationship to L.A. There's like all this space and it's so beautiful seeing all these different landscapes and all my friends are here so now I really like it so much but my adjustment period was a little like "What a strange town".
Three to four times a week, I get up at 7:30 A.M. while the courts are empty at Venice Beach and play full court one-on-one.
Venice Beach is incredibly quiet at night: no streetlights, no traffic, hummingbirds in the garden, palm trees everywhere.
I've been kind of submerged in my own little geographic location for a really long time in Venice Beach.
All this cut-price transcendentalism does not prevent California from being a startlingly physical state. This becomes most obvious where Los Angeles saunters down to the sea. The region is called Venice.
I loved the way she said 'LA'; I love the way everybody says 'LA' on the Coast; it's their one and only golden town when all is said and done.
I live in Venice Beach so I see this all day, every day. Some people just ignore people with mental illness, pretend they're not there. They don't say "good morning" to them; they don't act like they're human. They'll get locked up, or just ignored. It's just awful.
The situation in the film is like me going out to Venice Beach and talking to a homeless guy on the boardwalk, and 13 years later he's the president.
