I went to an AA meeting in Philly. I opened up and spoke and I said, “It’s not the end of the world if I mess up, it’s the end of the world if I die.” I didn’t expect everyone to take it so literally. Now I’m forced to take medication to keep me alive. I guess I’m pretty important. Or so the world of psychiatry would like me to believe. But isn’t that notion what they were treating me for from the beginning? Mind games. Bring it. I’ll supply the tunes.