And when I got sick I felt confident that if it was the last thing I ever recorded before I left this earth, I would be really proud of it.

There's no certainty to the next couple of years, but people are paying attention now. And I want to put out a record when people are paying attention, because that's when it has the best chance of being heard.

And seemingly as winter has become spring, confusion has become insight.

But planes land and so do I, and suns rise, melting away the grounds cool protection. I am finally free, if only for this moment. And should that be the case, then know that I am throwing a parade in first class as I speak. Art has again saved my life, my love and me. What next? Who really cares? Certainly a toast will be in order. Make mine a double.

You know, frankly, it's like I sort of realized something about life in the past six or eight months - that taking things a day at a time is a blessing and it's an honor and it's something that makes the day that you're living a lot more valuable

For a moment there I convinced myself I had my back against a wall, and suddenly the only wall I find my back against is that of a 10 by 10 writing shack in Glendale, where the summer days average between 90 and 100 and each song can be quantified in the sweat it took to write it. There is no ac in hell, and sometimes you've got to get down to get up. The train is gaining speed I should think.

I'm Doctor McMahon with a Ph.D. in sweet-ass rock with an emphasis in set list creation.