The last time I talked to Axl was in 1996. That was the last time we exchanged any sort of words. There was a rumor that I talked to him a while back [and asked to rejoin the band]. I did go to his house one night, and I talked to his assistant about something that had to do with this lawsuit that we were involved in. But it got turned into something else. He went out and made a press release that said I actually spoke to him, which was all bullshit. I was really shocked.

Notes and chords have become my second language and, more often than not, that vocabulary expresses what I feel when language fails me.

One time we played a concert in Antwerp, Belgium. At least I thought it was Antwerp, Belgium. Turns out it was a Stop 'n Shop in Wisconsin somewhere, but it was fun man.

I was the one that allegedly "quit and joined my old band." That wasn't true. But it was said so matter-of-factly on the Internet that the guys weren't really sure what I was up to.

An anagram of Axl Rose is oral sex. Why do I know? Because when I'm not playing music I love solving erotic jumbles.

If I could hang out with Jimi Hendrix, it wouldn't be over dinner.

It's not something you can find. There's a moment you arrive at --- there's no words for it. A bunch of people come together at this place where a note hits your heart and your brain tells your finger where to go. It's an otherworldly thing, like when a painter gets the right combination of colors together.