Send lawyers, guns, and money. Dad, get me out of this.

Here's a story that I really want to tell about Bo Diddley at the OK corral.

There's nothing romantic, nothing grand, nothing heroic, nothing brave, nothing like that about drinking. It's a real coward's death.

We made mad love shadow love random love and abandoned love. Accidentally like a martyr. The hurt gets worse, and the heart gets harder.

I missed jazz, kind of. And by the time I came to it in life, it was too intimidating to enjoy thoroughly.

I wrote my songs despite the fact that I was a drunk, not because of it.

Maybe you simply criticized someone you hardly knew. You ruined part of their life. For them, part of your life, too.