I REALIZE now that work was my drug. It held me together. It kept me high. When I wasn’t working, I didn’t know who I was or what I was supposed to do. This is general in the film world. You are so absorbed in making a film, you can’t think of anything else. It’s your identity, and when it’s done you are nobody. When Darryl quit Fox and went to live in Paris, he found that there he was nothing but an aging “sugar daddy,” sitting in an overpriced restaurant with a mistress whose respect for him was less than he was accustomed to. Darryl was D.F.Z. only when he was working on a film. When he wasn’t, he drank and gambled and gave his fucking a more frantic importance than he should have.