The sun setting on the Ucayali, with the Andean foothills in the background, and the taste of freshly cut papaya in my mouth, restoring a body utterly shattered, made for one of those 'ones to tell the grandchildren' memories.

In a way, the road between Huaraz and the lodge is a metaphor for Peruvian politics. It used to be in good repair, and in some places still is.

What older men and younger women have in common is they are both suffering from different insecurities. She is looking for someone to make her feel safe, and he is looking for someone who doesn't answer back and is a trophy.

I have no problem with people feeling a bit down - crikey, you only have to walk down the road to find enough reasons to fall into a depressive coma - but I do have a problem with whining about it.

If I can be an inspiration for someone, that's fine, but just don't look down on me. Don't say, 'Oh, you're in a wheelchair.'

I talked late, swam late, did not learn to ride a bike until college - and might never have walked or learned to drive a car if my parents hadn't overruled my lack of motivation and virtually forced me to embrace both forms of transportation. I suspect I was happy to sit in a corner with a book.

I had a general burnout: I got extremely tired; I couldn't do anything anymore. I canceled tours; I cancelled everything in my life. For a year and a half, I was completely sick; I couldn't do anything. So yeah, I wanted to write about it in my lyrics. 'Anatomy Of A Nervous Breakdown' is really about that, the inspiration behind it.

As long as they keep offering me some good parts and so forth - there are some parts out there that fit me pretty well - I'll keep going for a while.