Wanting to be someone else is a waste of the person you are.
I didn’t know how to deal with success. If there was a Rock Star 101, I would have liked to take it. It might have helped me.
I’m a spokesman for myself. It just so happens that there’s a bunch of people that are concerned with what I have to say. I find that frightening at times because I’m just as confused as most people. I don’t have the answers for anything.
Humans are stupid. I’m ashamed to be human.
I like to make people feel happy and superior in their reaction towards my appearance.
In the sun I feel as one.
People ask me what it’s like to hear our song on the radio. I don’t know, I don’t listen to the radio.
Words suck. I mean, every thing has been said. I can’t remember the last real interesting conversation I’ve had in a long time. Words aren’t as important as the energy derived from music, especially live.
To wish you were someone else is to waste the person you are.
I have met many minds able to store and translate a pregnantly large amount of information, yet they haven’t an ounce of talent for wisdom or the appreciation of passion.
Music is energy. A mood, atmosphere. Feeling.
Do your own thing. Others own their own thing. If you copy too much, you’ll find yourself in late night cocktail lounge cover band limbo.
It’s my fault but the most violating thing I’ve felt this year is not the media exaggerations or the catchy gossip, but the rape of my personal thoughts.
I decided that in order to become a big famous rock star, I would need to write my very own songs instead of wasting my time learning other peoples music too much. It may act as an obstruction in developing your very own personal style.
My heart is broke but I have some glue.
I like the comfort in knowing that women are generally superior and naturally less violent than men. I like the comfort in knowing that women are the only future in rock and roll.
I’m worse at what I do best. And for this gift, I feel blessed.
Mejor quemarse que apagarse lentamente.
You can’t fire me because I quit.
I’m not well read, but when I do read, I read well. I don’t have the time to translate what I understand in the form of conversation. I had exhausted most conversation at age 9. I only feel with grunts, screams and tones and with hand gestures and my body. I’m deaf in spirit.
Its like what Kathleen said about how in school there was this class that you went to and they were teaching the girls how to prepare themselves for rape and when you looked outside and saw the rapers outside playing football and you said “they are the ones who should be in here being taught not to rape”.