2/25 For people who are not famous, and who do not regularly get taken for someone who is, this is probably unknown so I should make a note of it. How people go about talking to someone they think they know as someone who is out of their world. They walk up to me, a deeply curious and elevated look in their eyes, as if my presence, which they don’t quite believe yet, has already enlargened their life. Their question, uttered with a sense of daring, will usually be: Are you an actor? This is funny, because why would they care if I’m an actor? They want to know if I’m David Duchovny. But they don’t dare asking that, as if that would be an unseemly infringement on my privacy, or just too good to be true. And it’s not that they recognize my face, but can’t remember my name. Nobody, and over the years there were many, has ever asked me if I’m David Duchovny. Only if I’m an actor. Or that unforgettable girl on Columbus Circle who wanted to know, squarely squinting at my face: Are you famous? It would be quite awkward if I had to tell them that I am indeed famous, or an actor, but not David Duchovny.