I've seen every movie, read reviews of every play, studied the way he would prepare for a role. I wanted to be Philip Seymour Hoffman.
My friend Zach, an old college roommate from theatre school who moved to New York after we graduated, would often talk about serving him in the bar he was working at. I'd always ask what he was like. "Just a guy, really,” he’d say. “A normal guy, maybe a little eccentric. Wore a baseball hat, ordered a beer, but nothing strange."
Of course not. What would be strange about the most amazing actor in the world just ordering a beer? He was a local in his neighborhood and he worked a ton. Multiple movies and plays all going on at once.
In 2008, he told The New York Times, "I try to live my life in such a way that I don't have profound regrets. That's probably why I work so much. I don't want to feel I missed something important."
As the news of his death flashed on my phone this evening while I lay in bed with the flu, I felt a bit of my heart breaking. But not before it started to race with anxiety and fear. While I wanted to live Philip Seymour Hoffman's life, I realized that I came very close to dying his death.
HT: Blaine Hogan