Try driving the streets of Los Angeles without seeing a billboard depicting a film with a lead actor holding a gun. It's almost as if guns are harmless props used to bring out the cheekbones and jawline of the screen star.

August in sub-Saharan Los Angeles is one of the great and awful tests of one's endurance, sanity and stamina.

Los Angeles is peopled by waiters and carpenters and drivers who are there to be actors.

When I'm Los Angeles, it's work. That's what I'm there for is work.

In 1968, I was driving from Los Angeles to San Francisco in a Shelby Cobra with three gorgeous young birds. Suddenly, the radio program was interrupted to report that I'd just been found in my hotel room dead from an overdose.

Seasonal change in Los Angeles is often a very subtle thing. It's not as if we finally stop having to shovel the snow out of our driveways and can put our parkas back in the closet.