The present's just a pleasant interruption to the past.

I like to watch people have fun and then trip them while they're doing so.

It's always strange to read the things you've hoped for in the past because by now those hopes may be spoken for or gone, transformed or altogether forgotten. Like time, hope can be so senseless. It can carry us up mountains or lie us in the quicksand. But like time, hope is unstoppable, inevitable, and blind. Sometimes we travel fast, hurdling towards the unknown, sometimes the unknown comes hurdling towards us while we watch time standing still.

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.

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

It's your 21st birthday... What are you doing sober at the front row of a concert? Is it your 21st birthday? By the end of the night I promise... we will get you drunk, my friend.

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.