Some of you might know Jason Miller as the priest from The Exorcist who was nominated for an Academy Award. He also won a Pulitzer for a play he wrote. The man had it made. What you didn't know maybe was that he couldn't handle the success. See, my father is an actor. He knew Jason Miller. He knew Jason Miller was constantly high. That's where the money went. That's also where his time went. Jason Miller never showed up for rehearsals, Jason Miller was busy getting high and drinking himself under the table. My father recalls one night, the last night he spent in Hollywood Hills, when he said goodbye to Jason, remarking that it had been a year that had passed: and Jason said, despairingly, "What happened?" As if a year had passed over the course of that night merely. He later had a heart attack in a bar at 11 in the morning bragging about a book he was going to write about Ireland. Keeled over. Dead. Lost it all. And all because he just wanted to get fucked up all the time instead of act in movies. Was successful here and there, of course, but with a Pulitzer and an Academy Award Nomination he should've been rocketed to interstellar orbit. This, my father told me. The man went crazy. All the money went to drugs. And he'd be damned if he'd let that happen to his son.
