Whoever's inside is inside; whoever's out is out.

Rage and grief are savage companions, but despair is the final undoing.

Culturally, I found myself in a very weird situation: you were the person that had made that journey to the West, and then you were going back to comment on something, and then suddenly you were questioned and told, "You can't touch that now because you're a pop star."

Uncomfortable silences. Why do we feel it's necessary to yak about bullshit in order to be comfortable?

Even if you're frustrated, how do you express yourself? There's no subculture like back in the day.

Retirement: a brand new beginning! How wonderful!

I'm still working out my opinions - it's always a question mark. I leave loads of space open, and people don't like that.