Music itself was color-blind but the media and the radio stations segregate it based on their perceptions of the artists.

I know my dad is a big Internet freak, and he's been known to be a Wikileaker.

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 had to sit with my senses. This clear, beautiful intuition took over. I knew exactly how I felt, and I wasn't confused or clouded or compromised. I realized that none of my feelings had diminished, but I might have to lose someone I truly loved. I didn't want to run away from Claire, but I knew drug addiction was strong enough that I had to be willing, if need be, to let go of the person I'd just fallen in love with.

We used to fight to the death but we tried the experiment, rolled the dice and like we got.

What I've realized over the years is that I have some pretty good friends.

I never felt like dying was a good idea.