Sunday July 1

I met a girl. Well, I almost got killed by a cougar and then I met a girl. Long story short: Out communing with Nature. Nature includes big, big cat. Golden eyes. Huge teeth. Thought I was dead. Wonder Woman comes flying in, whapping the cat with her coat. Cat wouldn’t budge, even when we both threw rocks and branches. Thought I was even more dead and so was the girl. Then, the cat just leaves.

The girl—Brigitta is her name—she was unbelievable. I don’t even know where she came from; she was like a dryad. I mean, it was like something out of Imlandria. She’s gorgeous: long honey-blond hair, green eyes. Nothing like the Hollywood girls. I grabbed her and held her. Hope she didn’t think I was crazy. We were both shaking so bad.

Wow. I nearly died. And she nearly died. And that cougar was so—well, he was terrifying, but also absolutely breathtaking. I didn’t think places like this existed anymore.

Mum was furious that I’d gone out without telling her because we had to get over to John’s to fly out, which is where I am now. At 30,000 feet. She thinks I’m not ready for Letterman. God, what’s to get ready? She thinks this is the show where I’m supposed to prove I’m a “serious actor.” Uh huh. Why do I have to prove it? Didn’t I prove it at Cannes?

Frankly, they only invited me because Brad Pitt cancelled; I’m done with all my Rocket press. Dave better not ask me about Mum; that seems to be the hot celebrity news right now—Trent and his mentally ill mother.

Mum wants me to talk about deep emotional insights I gained from the role; it’s not her business or anyone else’s.

Maybe I’ll do a striptease.

That’d piss her off.