It took some time to sit down and tpye this out.

Been thinking a lot, and I mean a lot, about this since the passing of Philip Seymour Hoffman. I think I understand, perhaps even know Hoffman, though I have never met him.

See I am an addict. I haven’t written a screenplay or book completely sober, ever. Not one. Oh I’ve written parts of a script or story, maybe even a whole act or chapter without help. But rarely, if ever, did I do it without a little help from my friends – If you know what I mean.

Lucy in the Sky with Diamonds and all that. I never have had the confidence to just crank out a ripping yarn without that crutch… My own personal Jesus there to give me that helping hand. Without that creative pen pal I don’t think I could have accomplish what I have.

My friend comes in many forms, sometimes it’s just alcohol. Sometimes it’s the powder. The syringe. Whatever and whenever, and other forms not to be mentioned.

But what I also know is my friend has company, always – unwanted company –  a demon. My demons sometimes they haunt the shit out of me. I can’t run and I can’t hide from them; they are always there.

So when I got myself cleaned-up recently it was about the time that PSH was visited by his demons. His passing hit home and in a big way. If I continued on my path  who knows where it would have ended... or could have... or could in the future.

I hope this makes anyone who depends on substances to stop and hold themselves accountable. You can cast off the demons and find peace.

-HC