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 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.

You can't control what goes on around you, you can't. But for me, I think there's staples of these moments, that crazy moment where you think you're indestructible. That moment where you find out that you're not. And then that moment where all of a sudden you go, okay, I'm not indestructible but I'm gonna be okay. You have this life, and we all have these lives we live but it takes a bit of learning before you realize not every drama's going to kill you and not every hard day has to lead to another one.

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

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.

Suddenly it makes sense again. In no haze of mindfulness, staring down at this snow-covered quilt of America, I am the stars exploding. Voice shot down to hell, half sick, half recovered, alive and well and ready. The unknown for now will remain as such and in this moment that feeling is not one of suspension. It is the hopeful unknown. Reaching into the future could only be good now as the past is wrapping itself in ribbons and pleasant packing paper, rarely to be revisited.

I've found that falling doesn't always leave you fallen for.