This is my own little rock theory: In my mind, Nirvana slayed the hair bands. They shot the top off the poodles.

I'm most comfortable on stage.

This sounds really corny, but I am a slave to my work, a workaholic, and glad of it. I like what I do; this is my place, my little universe, one of them.

I wonder what it's like to be from a state that is spread across a few islands way out in the Pacific Ocean, only added to the United States in 1959. Not only that but to be the birthplace of America's first black president? Pretty cool, I bet.

The opportunity to write for the 'L.A. Weekly' has been one of the better breaks that has come my way in a long time.

The history of apartheid-era South Africa is incredibly sad and at times infuriatingly incomprehensible.

All I can do is just do stuff while I am alive and hopefully that track record will speak for itself.