When I first started I didn’t know a lot about the job, so I kinda had to figure it out by wire, ya know? It was hit and miss, I made mistakes, and fortunately I was able to recover from most of ’em.
Forced to recognize our inhumanity, our reason coexists with our insanity. And though we choose between reality and madness, it’s either sadness or euphoria.
In hell there’s a big hotel where the bar just closed and the windows never opened. No phone so you can’t call home, and the TV works, but the clicker is broken.
I always loved music, so I would probably either be in a band with another group of people, or an arranger, a producer, a musicologist, a music history guy, something to do with music. Either that, or I would probably be in jail. Or dead.
Artist – musicians, painters, writers, poets, always seem to have had the most accurate perception of what is really going on around them, not the official version or the popular perception of contemporary life.
I’ve tried to avoid that all my life. When I wrote about soldiers in Vietnam, I wasn’t trying to make a political statement. I was trying to write about how screwed things were for soldiers, and how they still are.
