Usually, I reserve it for more private settings with people that I know won’t think I’m crazy because they happen to be just as crazy themselves (That’s right, crazies don’t think other crazies are crazy, they just nod and look content). Yet here I am, tappin’ away at the keyboard again, with the feeling that I must share, that I must have discovered a morsel of truth, because I wouldn’t be writing otherwise.

As she was talking, I couldn’t help but drift to the plastic features that had puffed her lips, made her face saran-wrap-tight, and crafted a nose in the muse of MJ. Her personality was lovely: sweet, caring, and concerned, but tragically lost…

Anthony Kiedis explains that the band name “The Red Hot Chili Peppers” is more a state of mind than actual peppers. It’s the feeling, or rather the energy, right after you bite into a chili pepper, jump up from your seat, knock the waiter over, and…

For the next 20 minutes we just talked. She explained that she had severe depression and had not slept in 5 days. She continued to tell me that she had had brain surgery for a tumor that needed to be removed (which turned out to be benign) and then took my hand and ran it along the ridge line of her scar tissue. I told her what I was capable of doing, and she looked in my eyes and asked me if I believed in god. I did.