Rhetoric Paints With A Broad Brush.

When You Step On The Brakes Your Life Is In Your Foot's Hands.

The Older I Got, The More Apparent It Became That My Mother Was Losing Control Over Me. She Fought Back Fiercely With Black Moods, Silent Treatments And Martyrdom. And, Of Course, All She Did Was Run My Ass Out Of The House Even Quicker. The Pressure Was Unbearable.

I'll Bet There Aren't Too Many People Hooked On Crack Who Can Play The Bagpipes.

In Adolescence You Have To Separate Yourself And Establish Your Identity. So, Being Very Independent Anyway, I Took Charge.

Grass Probably Helped Me As Much As It Hurt Me. Especially As A Performer.