A writer apologized to me — 23 years later. A 'waterfall' of memories ensued
LOS ANGELES — Once, long ago, in the now-shuttered offices of LA Weekly on Sunset Boulevard, I was assigned to profile a young, hip writer named Thomas Beller. The year was 2000.
Things did not go so well.
Beller was on a national book tour for his debut novel, "The Sleep-Over Artist." I didn't know this, but he was going through a rough time personally. He didn't know this, but I was going through a rough time personally — headed toward a divorce. We met (eventually — more on that later) at the Hollywood Hills Coffee Shop, on Franklin Boulevard under the looming Hollywood sign.
It was so long ago that I didn't yet have a cellphone. Beller didn't show up right away for our interview, and I, a newbie journalist working on one of my first big profiles, sat in a booth, with his book on my lap, for an hour and a half.
