I Guess They Needed A Maze In

I'm A Firm Believer That There Are No Rules In Art. Every Trajectory Is Different.

I’ve Always Been Uninterested In Boundaries Or Quarantines Between Tastes And Types, Between Mediums And Genres.

When Rolling Stone Handed Me This Crazy Assignment To Be In The Studio With James Brown, They Had The Misapprehension That I'd Written For Them Already Just Because I Claimed My Character Had.

I Just Noticed Recently That In One Book After Another I Seem To Find An Excuse To Find Some Character Who, To Put It Idiotically Simply, Is Allowed To Talk Crazy.

In The Sea Of Words, The In Print Is Foam, Surf Bubbles Riding The Top. And It's A Dark Sea, And Deep, Where Divers Need Lights On Their Helmets And Would Perish At The Lower Depths.