In the early stages of my one and (so far) only major manic episode in the late summer of 2006 I conceived the idea of writing a book about myself.

Initially, from the manic point of view I was then inhabiting, it was to be about how a damaged person could stage a complete recovery and inherit his full birthright, as a gay Hollywood superstar, an epochal intellectual, and a spiritual guru all rolled into one. (Really!)

Before I could get very far, things blew up spectacularly culminating in a truly long dark night of the soul, which included a night in the downtown lockup of the LAPD.

It was only after my release from jail, in the three days I spent in a locked psychiatric ward, and the ensuing weeks in which I was diagnosed with bipolar disorder and started taking medication, that I could understand my friends’ perspective. I’d thought of myself as this huge, violently hued flower unfurling unexpectedly, attracting all with its color and grandeur. My friends, on the other hand, had smelled the rotting core.

I remained in a declining state of mania through late October, and during those months I wrote many entries on this blog as well as about half of what would become my book.

In October I crashed as I discovered that bipolar, perhaps unsuprisingly, has two poles. But I continued to write, and eventually finished the book early in the new year. I went through several more drafts until I felt it was finished.

I did initially try to get it published, but I eventually realized I didn't have the time nor inclination to find an agent. So I've decided to start posting chapters here. In the process, I'll review and rewrite each chapter, to make sure the viewpoint is more accurate to my current state of mind: that of a stable, well-functioning bipolar person.