Danbury wasn't a prison, it was a crime school. I went in with a Bachelor of marijuana, came out with a Doctorate of cocaine.

Sometimes you're flush and sometimes you're bust, and when you're up, it's never as good as it seems, and when you're down, you never think you'll be up again, but life goes on.

After a while, the cocaine - I didn't have any friends. I was just alone and I didn't even like myself.

I was the kid who would take the car out at night when he was 16 and see if he can redline it. And then there's the kid who will be careful of it because it's his dad's car, or whatever, and drive it safely home and go to bed. And that's how my whole life was.

I thought cocaine was a fantastic drug. A wonder drug, like everybody else. It gave you [an] energy burst. You could stay awake for days on end, and it was just marvelous and I didn't think it was evil at all.

That's a terrible price to pay because you loved life so much, with the intensity of a thousand suns, and the women and all of it - and then it's all taken away from you. You end up walking the hallways of always to a place called tedium and apathy, day after day after day. Years go by.

I hope there's a life after life - and maybe I can even come back again and get on another train, and ride and gain some more wisdom.