Fresh air makes me throw up. I can't handle it. I'd rather be around three Denobili cigars blowing in my face all night.

You know I love pot, and I love beer, but I am totally sober, just because it completely stopped working for me.

People at rehab were stealing my hats and pens and notebooks and asking for autographs. I couldn't concentrate on my problem.

I realized, 'Yo, I can't do anything in moderation. I don't know how.

My identity shifted when I got into recovery. That's who I am now, and it actually gives me greater pleasure to have that identity than to be a musician or anything else, because it keeps me in a manageable size. When I'm down on the ground with my disease-which I'm happy to have-it gets me in tune. It gives me a spiritual anchor. Don't ask me to explain.

So many cringes in the heroin binges, I was coming off the hinges, living on the fringes of my imagination.