Sometimes I Feel Like I'm Possessed With

[jack Sparrow]'s A Blast To Play. I'll Be In A Deep, Dark Depression Saying Goodbye To Him. I'll Keep The Costume And Just Prance Around The House, Entertain The Kids....i Mean, At A Certain Point, The Madness Must Stop, But For The Moment, I Can't Say That He's Done.

People Get Famous Now For I-don't-know-what. People Have Reality Shows Because They're A Hollywood Socialite, And These Things Become Very Successful And They Generate A Shitload Of Money For The Company. And It's Multiplying, To Where You're Literally Looking Into Your Next Door Neighbor's Bathroom With Reckless Abandon. It Is Like Watching A Fire. You Can't Take Your Eyes Off Of It.

It's Impossible To Consider Myself A Producer. I Can Barely Produce An English Muffin, In The Morning.

I Experimented With Drugs And I Experimented With Everything That Little Boys Do - Vandalism, Throwing Eggs At Cars, Breaking And Entering Schools And Destroying A Room. But I Finally Got To A Point Where I Looked Around And Said, "this Is Not Getting Me Anywhere. I'm Stagnating With These Guys." They Were Getting Drunk And High Every Weekend. I Got Out.

I'm Not Even Born Yet. I'm Still Trying. I'm Still Pushing. I Don't Ever Want To Get To A Place Where I Feel Satisfied.