After giving a talk at the University of Southern California, I found myself at the Chateau Marmont, the terminally hip L.A. hotel, hungry and thirsty. I’ve been staying there since 1984, when Paramount was putting me up, and I tapped a stash of white Burgundies from the 70s while eating tuna melts and working on the screenplay for Bright Lights, Big City. Or not eating—we did a lot of not eating back then.