Tuesday, I was downtown getting a haircut and afterward I felt like walking home. I must have had it in the back of my mind because I had my tape recorder with me. I looked up the address and walked to Bethune Street in the West Village. It was a spooky feeling, knowing my destination was not only a place I hadn't seen before, but also a place of sadness and death. Seeing all the flowers and drawings and cards, etc, layed against the entryway of the building, it was immediately evident that this was a somber thing. Quiet. Personal. It was also cold and kind of late to be doing interviews. Maybe 8:30pm. Once I got started though, it was very natural. The show veered towards being more about addiciton itself than Philip Seymour Hoffman, but I hope that was all right. I noticed that many who happened by were recovered addicts. Perhaps it was some type of neccesary reminder to keep vigilant in sobriety. All were touched by Hoffman and his artistry, and those who'd encountered him had only pleasant things to say.

I sometimes feel a kind of delayed reaction in dealing with the emotions surrounding death. Now, a few days after, if I'm still, I can feel the loss and the pain of it ... and it leads to other doors and stories of other people. Stars, friends, acquaintences, who've fallen to drug addiction. It puts it in your face, just what a sad shame it is that it happens over and over. Perhaps it always will. We are alive, though, and there is more life to live. I hope you have a safe journey through and that you find your answers and have much happiness along the way. We'll spare a thought for our brothers and sisters who couldn't make the trip, and we'll always remember.

Philip Seymour Hoffman - July 23, 1967 - February 2, 2014