Friday, 2.10, 7:50 pm. The Texas ladies and I needed directions to a Crash party just starting up in the hills, so we pulled into the Liquor Locker on Sunset and we noticed this blond bearded guy coming out of the store: Philip Seymour Hoffman. “Philly? Jeffrey Wells. Journalist…friend of Bennett Miller?” Hey, smile, handshake. “We’re just down tonight from Santa Barbara, where you’ll be tomorrow, right?” He’s receiving the Riviera Award at the Arlington tonight (2.11) with Leonard Maltin hosting along with the usual montage of film clips. Hoffman had come to the store for a pack of smokes (I think) and seemed to be in a slight hurry to be somewhere else, and he almost seemed to do an “oh, yeah” when I mentioned Santa Barbara. The Texas ladies came up and rattled off his six or seven best films and told him they loved his work, and you could see him stiffen slightly as he gave them a polite smile and a curt thanks. “See ya tomorrow,” I said, and he smiled and waved and hopped into his car and pulled out.