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So I’d moved out to L.A., no agent, no manager, no life. I was screwed. I owed everybody money. I was really in a bad place. I was hanging out with this really great friend of mine, Greg Dulli, from Afghan Whigs. I was living on the couch of the guys from Bullet LaVolta. They were recording a record in L.A., and then they were like, “Okay, dude, we’re going back to Boston next week!” And I said, “Well, what about me?” They’re like, “Uh, you’re an adult. Tough shit.” [Laughs.] “We’re not your parents.”
So I found this place to live, taking care of dogs in South Central. I quit drinking, because I was out of my mind, and I got a job as a janitor at a drug and alcohol center, and I didn’t care about acting or… anything, really. For the first time in my life, I was like, “Oh, man. Thank you, God, for this turkey sandwich!” [Laughs.]
People were talking shit about L.A., my friends in New York, but I was like, “To me, L.A. is Tibet!”
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