A Quote by Michael Thomas Ford
It's like whoever sits up ther in Heaven had this big bag of really crappy stuff, and once or twice a day she or he reaches in and sprinkles a little bit of it over the world and it makes everything go crazy, like fairy dust that's past its expiration date.
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And anyway, the truth isn't all that great. I mean, what's the truth? Planes falling out of the sky. Buses blowing up and ripping little kids into millions of pieces. Twelve-year-olds raping people and then shooting them in the head so they can't tell. I can't watch the news anymore or look at the papers. It's like whoever sits up there in Heaven has this big bag of really crappy stuff, and once or twice a day she or he reaches in and sprinkles a little bit of it over the world and makes everything crazy, like fairy dust that's past its expiration date.
Nazare is crazy. When you're out in the ocean, and you're a little bit past the wave, outside, it doesn't really look that big. And then, once you get towed into this thing, it is like coming down a mountain, like going over a cliff.
See, when you're a little kid, nobody ever warns you that you've got an expiration date. One day you're hot stuff and the next day you're a dirt sandwich.
I do like touring. Sometimes it's crazy. We're really lucky and we've gone all over the world. You can't complain about getting paid to see the world. I've had to reel myself in a little bit at some points.
Maybe everything really does just have an expiration date--one that you can't see until she tells you she's leaving, and then she's gone.
I like to make people laugh. That's for sure. And I really like to humiliate myself and go very far in derision and stuff. But no, I like everything. I started a little bit of doing drama, too. I like that, too. I guess I just want to touch everything.
I can be a little bit outrageous. I can be a lot of things. I'm a bit of an adrenaline junkie, so I love to go out there and do kind of crazy stuff which is slightly outrageous, like bungee jumping, skydiving, surfing and that sort of stuff. But I also like to just chill with my friends and go and see movies and do normal things.
I was amazed by this person who, even though she had everything, would go to feed the homeless and visit sick children and Aids victims. It was like a fairy tale. Who was she really? Why did she do this? She was trying to find love. I wanted the world to see her kindness, her humility: I think she realised that would be her way.
A beach date would be awesome, with like a little picnic basket, some fruit and bread - just something really, really relaxed and laid-back. I like just relaxing all day, maybe playing in the water a little bit. It's just totally a day to chill.
Few tasks are more like the torture of Sisyphus than housework, with its endless repetition: the clean becomes soiled, the soiled is made clean, over and over, day after day. The housewife wears herself out marking time: she makes nothing, simply perpetuates the present … Eating, sleeping, cleaning – the years no longer rise up towards heaven, they lie spread out ahead, grey and identical. The battle against dust and dirt is never won.
Growing up in Minnesota, I had a lot of freedom to run around, and we had go-carts and four-wheelers and all that stuff. I like that adrenalin-rush stuff. I did a little bit of dance, but mostly sports.
Anyway, I keep picturing all these little kids playing some game in this big field of rye and all. Thousands of little kids, and nobody's around - nobody big, I mean - except me. And I'm standing on the edge of some crazy cliff. What I have to do, I have to catch everybody if they start to go over the cliff - I mean if they're running and they don't look where they're going I have to come out from somewhere and catch them. That's all I do all day. I'd just be the catcher in the rye and all. I know it's crazy, but that's the only thing I'd really like to be.
I wish somebody had given me the news that ideas don't just fall on your head like fairy dust. You have to treat that like a job. You have to spend hours each day, where you're just like, 'This is the part of the day when I'm looking for an idea.'
The past is like a handful of dust. It filters through your fingers, disappearing little by little. I wish, for one day, I could go back. In another life I would do things differently.
Hey, I drank milk that was a DAY past its expiration date. Now THAT is extreme!
I'm 39, and I would like to be able to make great pop music for another 20 years. And it feels like creating a sort of inanimate blond bob and allowing other people to play the role of the pop singer, it affords me a little bit more freedom in terms of my expiration date.
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