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TRAPEZOID is the story of a woman and three men: The husband an English screenwriter who writes swashbucklers and reverts back to one of his characters, a Buccaneer; the best friend, an aimless wood cutter; and a disillusioned bar owner. There still may be a few copies floating around out there somewhere. It was fun to write anyway. While I was in LA gardening for Dominic Rodriguez Sepulvida who had invested everything in ladies lingerie after MDMA was declared a schedule one narcotic in 1984, and living at the Trilon Hotel in Hollywood, I hung out at bars on Sunset Strip and went to movies while trying to sell my script. Fortunately I discovered Kinkos in Westwood not having the foggiest of their eventual cornering of the market on paper copying. Copying is what makes the world go round. Living in a little room in Hollywood waiting for agents to call an answering service seemed counter productive to getting one’s faith back. I was living in a trapezoid waiting for the dirt to cover the box.