I don't think anybody does anything anymore without commenting on why they're doing it or making fun of it as they're doing it.

Most of the answers to the world could be answered with our bodies.

This [Thelonious Monk: The Life And Times Of An American Original] is another one of those books with the perfect blend of anecdote and analysis. The analysis is built into the anecdote. It has that right feel about it. It's not too scholarly, either.

Fashion costs money, but songs are free. You can write them for free and you can sing them for free and they can infect those around you or the people from the future and they can sing them for free too.

The whole exploitation thing is funny, too. Exploitation is the nature of the world, isn't it?

Only cool people care about the origin stories of why they like something, and I'm not cool.

Everybody is so goddamn sure of themselves, it just makes you realize this is the curse of the modern world.