I am not a trained actor and am not near the top of anyone's want list. I go after what I am offered, if I am so inclined. Now and then, I get offers for things that are not to my liking, in that I just don't care about the story. All this super tough guy stuff isn't anything that interests me all that much. I can't think of anything I turned down that I regret.

I'm a liar. I'll rip your mind up. I'll burn your soul, I'll turn you in to me.

There's nothing funny about, 'Yeah, I took a First Class plane ticket and I went to some designer beach and made out with a Laotian slave girl.' Who cares?

A rose trapped inside a fist.

All I have is me. Over-worked, under-appreciated, middle-aged, and shriveled up.

My mother, a very eclectic listener, had the first Doors album and gave it to me when I expressed interest in the band. It was one of the first records I ever had. As the years passed, the babysitters who used to look after me would bring their Doors albums to the apartment, and that's how I got to hear their later work.

When you put yourself in environments that continually test you, that's where all the good stories come from. That's where the jokes come from is from the shitty parts.