Im Always Terrified When Im Writing.

Ten Years, She's Dead, And I Still Find Myself Some Mornings Reaching For The Phone To Call Her. She Could No More Be Gone Than Gravity Or The Moon.

No Road Offers More Mystery Than That First One You Mount From The Town You Were Born To, The First Time You Mount It Of Your Own Volition, On A Trip Funded By Your Own Coffee Tin Of Wrinkled Up Dollars - Bills You've Saved And Scrounged For, Worked The All-night Switchboard For, Missed The Rolling Stones For, Sold Fragrant Pot With Smashed Flowers Going Brown Inside Twist-tie Plastic Baggies For. In Fact, To Disembark From Your Origins, You've Done Everything You Can Think To Scrounge Money Save Selling Your Spanking Young Pussy.

Even The Best Of Us Are At Least Part-time Bastards.

When I Got Sober, I Thought Giving Up Was Saying Goodbye To All The Fun And All The Sparkle, And It Turned Out To Be Just The Opposite. That's When The Sparkle Started For Me.

Mother’s Particular Devils Had Remained Mysterious To Me For Decades. So Had Her Past. Few Born Liars Ever Intentionally Embark In Truth’s Direction, Even Those Who Believe That Such A Journey Might Axiomatically Set Them Free.