Read Online Charles Manson Now by Marlin Marynick - Free Book Online Page B

you’re in the helping profession, not that I was looking for it. I’d never felt so lonely, so compelledto dive into that loneliness and make sense out of what I was feeling. I experienced myself as disconnected, displaced. I’d become a textbook case of depression. I never considered stepping outside of myself and asking for help; I believed that what I was experiencing was only grief, part of a natural process we all find ourselves in sooner or later. Danny and Dave were both younger than me, and their deaths functioned as a wakeup call in my life. I became acutely aware that we’re here for a very short time.
    Eventually, a couple of my colleagues sat me down and told me I should seriously consider taking a leave from work. I tried to argue, but they were right, and I knew it. My work demands a certain level of focus, of which I didn’t possess much. It was hard for me to connect with anyone, or feel any empathy after losing so many of the most important people in my life. I had thought about taking some time off, but I never did. Sitting around the house was the last thing I wanted to do; I needed to keep busy.
    Danny was a super guy. Lots of our friends toured, and the only time we’d see them is when they’d stay over, it was pretty routine to have band people crashed all over our house. Before Danny passed away, one of his friends, Buck, found himself sort of homeless after his girlfriend kicked him out. Danny asked me if it would be all right if Buck stayed at our place for a few weeks, until he “got his shit together.” Those few weeks turned into a few years, and even now I highly doubt that Buck has his shit together.
    Buck is a brilliant graphic artist, who worked meticulously for hours in front of his computer, fine-tuning the details of a CD cover, or perfecting some other project. He is an extremely talented artist and he had a ton of great ideas. Buck ispretty scattered, and it’s difficult for him to follow through with anything. I was grateful to have him around, though. He was the only guy I knew who would go along with some of the crazy things happening in my life.
    When I told Buck about Donald Taylor, he thought it would be great if we all entered into a business partnership together. We decided to create a website and sell Donald’s manuscript as an eBook entitled One Gay Man. Almost immediately after the launch of the book and the website, we were contacted by Howard Stern’s people; they wanted Donald on his show.
    Buck and I decided to accompany Donald to the Howard Stern taping in New York City, and we brought along a few friends to help film a documentary about the trip. We shot in NYC, Tennessee, Los Angeles, and Las Vegas, but we never produced anything from that footage - for good reason.
    Howard said that none of his other guests had “ever said so much.” At the end of Donald’s interview, which chronicled his alleged exploits with Hollywood’s crowded closet, Howard asked him if he would be willing to take a lie detector test to prove his story. Donald was startled. “No,” he said; he didn’t care if people believed him or not. By the time Donald made his way back to the green room, he was completely flushed, as if he were in shock. He wanted to leave, immediately. We had planned to stick around until the end of the show and then go for drinks. I was choked to leave so soon, because Perry Farrell, one of my favorite songwriters, was one of the show’s other guests. I’d always wanted to meet him.
    I’d begun to doubt Donald’s story. His ability to recall details repeatedly in exactly the same way eroded his believability. Hisstories began to feel like speeches, and his speeches began to sound like scripts. He was also starting to fall too deeply in love with the limelight, turning into a bit of a diva. Our documentary was not successful; Donald wasn’t able to act at all natural, so the crew gave up and wrote the project off as an adventure. Donald left us a few