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I don't particularly dislike any kind of person that might be reading my stuff. They like it and that's cool but I don't do the work for any kind of group in particular except for hobos who just plain kick ass and light up my life.

I'm always looking for cool stuff to do because that's what we're supposed to do ya know?

You get to bring your own sound system when you play an arena all the lights and visual stuff which I think is really cool. There's something about those old arenas where it feels larger than life.

I just want to do cool stuff.

My mother used to take me to flea markets in my stroller and I would just rummage through the piles. You've got to dig through the overstuffed racks that everyone else just walks by. It's the only way to find the cool stuff.

When I was 24 I was full of life. I was that ham who wanted to be famous a movie star all that stuff. I think it's cool. But it was not what I was searching for really. It was more a delusion.

All this stuff is so mind-blowing to me that I get to do in my life. Throwing the first pitch out at the White Sox game on a random Wednesday? Like who am I? How did I get this life? I'm glad I'm not jaded and little kids are the least jaded people in the entire world so it's fun to be around people that still find wonder in how cool things are.

Playing and singing at the same time is pretty cool but sometimes it's difficult to know when you can just really let go a bit because you've got to get back to bloody microphone and sing some stuff.

There's been a lot of really cool stuff that's happened to me throughout my career and I remember everything but I don't think I savored every moment of it like I should have or like I do now.

I was in choir in school. I kind of just did it. I already knew I wanted to sing. My music program in my school wasn't really great - people didn't really want to be part of the choir they didn't want to do the plays and stuff like that. It definitely wasn't the cool thing to do.

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Property is unstable and youth perishes in a moment. Life itself is held in the grinning fangs of Death Yet men delay to obtain release from the world. Alas the conduct of mankind is surprising.