I've been a skateboarder since I was twelve, and that's also about the time I first picked up a guitar. These days I usually play bluegrass and old-time tunes on the guitar, mostly by myself in the truck.
I also like to think I can shoot a decent photo.
I like intelligent, well-crafted movies, but that doesn't mean I only watch serious art films. Just because a film is artsy doesn't mean that it's intelligent; nor does serious subject matter guarantee quality production. I guess it's like most things: you get out of something what you put in to it, so if you're only going to do something half-assed, don't expect me to be interested.
In music, I want to listen to something with a good beat and a clear melody, and in a song the music is more important to me than the lyrics. A few weeks ago I was driving through the Bronx listening to a radio program on which the merits of Stairway to Heaven were debated. To me, Stairway is a beautifully crafted song; who cares if the words make any sense? There's emotion and meaning—power, even—in the notes themselves. But I tend to lean toward instrumentals, and most of the time I want to hear something I can dance to. Even though I'm only an occasional dancer. I think music should stir something inside you, whether it's just a toe tap or a fond memory, or maybe a booty shake or a tear in your eye. A good song sure moves me.
It's surprisingly difficult to find a really good burrito, but I guess I've been spoiled by San Francisco.
That skateboard behind my seat.
Peace and quiet.
Improvising on that ol' guitar.
Reading between the lines when I listen to the news.
Where the hell I'm going to park for the night.
How to be a grown-up without actually growing up.
How the hell I'm going to back this trailer into the spot in which the customer wants to unload it.
Where and how to hide the rent this month. That's a fun (for me, at least) little game I like to play with the landlord...