I have been drunk now for over two weeks.

Under the heavens and under the sea there's a friend I don't know, who holds the right key.

Don't try to describe the ocean if you've never seen it.

I arm myself with punch lines and a big old water gun.

Maybe there is another who sees life not as a flickering candle but as a torch that can illuminate an undiscovered world.

And you find as a writer there are certain spots on the planet where you write better than others, and I believe in that. And New Orleans is one of them.

Well, I'm still here. Didn't have to go to rehab, and I'm not broke.