Having a moment of clarity was one thing; I'd had moments like that before. It had to be followed with a dedicated push of daily exercise. It's a trite axiom, but practice DOES make perfect. If you want to be a strong swimmer or an accomplished musician, you have to practice. It's the same with sobriety, though the stakes are higher. If you don't practice your program every day, you're putting yourself in a position where you could fly out of the orbit one more time.

Four years into the life of my son, I realize I'm so in love with him and he's so in love with me that if I don't find that lifelong partner out there, it's okay.

The energy is still similar because I saw some old footage of us when we were in France that they'd dredged up out of God knows where and I was like, the energy is still there.

The good news is that by the second year, those cravings were about as half as frequent, and by the third year, half as much again. I'm still a little bent, a little crooked, but all things crooked, I can't complain. After all those years of all kinds of abuse and crashing into trees at eighty miles an hour and jumping off buildings and living through overdoses and liver disease, I feel better now than I did ten years ago. I might have some scar tissue, but that's alright, I'm still making progress.

I've got used to touring. If you make calculations of the nights spent in hotels in my life, multiplied by the tattoos I have for hundred.

I had to educate him that there was no such thing as writer's block, that writers write when they write, and when they don't, they don't.

My father rebelled ferociously against his conservative upbringing where his father physically abused him.