There is a part of me that still wants to go out and grab a backpack and unplug - not take a cellphone or even a camera and just get out there and experience the world and travel. I have yet to do that, but someday I hope.

I believe the death of Bobby Kennedy was in many ways the death of decency in America. I think it was the death of manners and formality, the death of poetry and the death of a dream.

What does it take to get you to the point where you have to kill your brother? It's biblical, it's huge. It's so personal.

Madrid is enjoyed most from the ground, exploring your way through its narrow streets that always lead to some intriguing park, market, tapas bar or street performer. Each night we'd leave our hotel to begin a new adventure in Madrid and nine out of 10 times, we'd walk through the Plaza Mayor.

When people ask what were the qualities of Bobby Kennedy that they most admired, it was first that he was tough. Second, he told the truth and third, he stood up for the little guy.

My father is the Hollywood equivalent of a clean, fillet-brazed frame. My brother is like one of those fat-tubed aluminum Cannondales. I'm more like one of those Taiwanese Masis.

What I find interesting is that the people that follow your Twitters are called 'followers.' Talk about false idolatry, right?