The point is that life for me is not going to be the way it is for everyone else. I have a fog machine and movie lights in my bedroom.

Anybody who does not evolve can become a self-parody. I have to evolve on a daily basis just to keep my own interest in what I do.

Libido, fascination, too much oral defecation. White trash get down on your knees, time for cake and sodomy.

This question is posed to mayself, am I a man who thinks he's an angel? Or an angel who thinks he's a man?

Marilyn Monroe wasn't even her real name, Charles Manson isn't his real name, and now, I'm taking that to be my real name. But what's real? You can't find the truth, you just pick the lie you like the best.

Art gives people a reason to be alive.

I can't turn off the way I think, and that's essentially who I am, who anybody is.