Eve Babitz

I met Harrison Ford at Barney's Beanery. And I met Steve Martin at the bar at the Troubador. He said he wanted to be a stand-up comic. I thought that was the worst idea because he was so square, so Orange County.

I wasn't as used to the new dumb questions, so when men I had once thought of as wise daddies now asked me 'How do you write?' I did not try and spill red wine in their suede pants. I would just smile and say, 'On a typewriter in the mornings when there's nothing else to do.'

For a time, I believed not in God nor Santa Claus, but in mermaids. They seemed as logical and possible to me as the brittle twig of a seahorse in the zoo aquarium or the skates lugged up on the lines of cursing Sunday fishermen - skates the shape of old pillowslips with the full, coy lips of women.

After having done this whole slew of press for 'Big Love', now I'll have anxiety dreams for like a week and a half about all the stupid things I said. I can't even imagine being in front of the cameras all the time. I had a weird dream the other night that I was on 'Jersey Shore.'