Life Is Just A Bag Of Pot.

What Some People Would Call Antics, I Would Just Call A Good Show.

I Stare At Myself In The Mirror And I Think, 'wow, I'm Really Great-looking.'... I Think I'm The Greatest, Anyway.

At University, I Had Been Obsessed With Reading About The Lives Of Rimbaud And Baudelaire, And I Was Steeped In The Crazy Poets, And I Came To View My Early Subjects Through That Prism.

In 1965, When Great Young White Artists In The English-speaking World Were Successfully Re-channeling Hillbilly And Black Music - You Know Bob Dylan, Ray Davies, Pete Townsend, Keith Richards - They Didn't Get Any Money At First. They Were All Broke.

The Problem Being: For Years I Was Struggling - First To Prove That I Had Any Talent, Then To Create Some Skills And Finally To Fulfil It Reasonably. But Then Once I Got There It Was, "ok. I Did That, But I Want To Be Happy." And That's A Whole Different Deal. It's Kind Of Like A Dance. Being Active Seems To Help. I'm 70, So Sometimes A Little Voice Is Going, "just Take It Easy".