I Gotta Cut Smoking Or I'll Never

California Is Like A Beautiful Wild Kid On Heroin, High As A Kite And Thinking She's On Top Of The World, Not Knowing She's Dying, Not Believing It Even If You Show Her The Marks.

Sometimes, I Feel Like I Spent The First Part Of My Life Wishing To Be A Teen-age Boy, And The Second Part Condemned To Being One.

There Isn't Any Real Good Reason For Fighting Except Self-defense.

All Of A Sudden It Felt Like People Were Peering Over My Shoulder, Wondering What I Would Write Next. I Was Blocked For Four Years.

I Have No Idea Why I Write. The Old Standards Are: I Like To Express My Feelings, Stretch My Imagination, Earn Money.