My optimism wears heavy boots and is loud.

Early spring is the time for vigorous change, a preparation for the heat-driven oppression that is to come.

I have come to regard November as the older, harder man's October. I appreciate the early darkness and cooler temperatures. It puts my mind in a different place than October. It is a month for a quieter, slightly more subdued celebration of summer's death as winter tightens its grip.

I'm not like paparazzi. I never force myself on anyone. I always ask, and some places offer money. And so I try and get these photos to give you, the viewer, a real look at what I was seeing.

The blues is losing someone you love and not having enough money to immerse yourself in drink.

I believe that one defines oneself by reinvention. To not be like your parents. To not be like your friends. To be yourself. To cut yourself out of stone.

I never think of what it's going to be like later. I only think in the present tense. The only time I think backwards is when I have to reissue something.