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.

I'm usually busy - if you call me at the house, I get about four phone calls there a year - I'm usually running around the house with a pen in my mouth holding onto something, folding it, or doing something to it, and it's always a bad time.

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 never had any interest in being involved with the Boy Scouts.

If I'm in L.A. for longer than 20 days, I'm looking for work, because I don't do vacations.

I know I was a generic dysfunctional child, but I think a lot of people are.

I've never killed anybody... but I've definitely thought about it. But that's how we are. That's what happens when you put people together and put them into societies and cultures and have laws and the idea of justice.