Well, listen to me for a minute, we really put ourselves out there, in interviews, sure, but mostly in the music, night after night, not just me, but the whole band. And we all have shells, shells isn’t a good word for this, I mean we all have outer layers. That’s the side we present to the world. Just listen. They aren’t necessarily hard or soft, those layers. In the metaphor I’m using, they’re soft. But on the one hand I don’t want to be a sort of thing in a tin or I guess stainless steel can. All my stuff trapped in there and so boiled down that they need to add my weight in water just to revive me. Let me finish the other part of the metaphor please. And equally so, I don’t want to be a person who’s just freeze-dried, picked up on a whim for my looks and maybe some sort of exotic potential, like maybe they’ll thaw me out to accompany some lunch noodles, or maybe I get stuck in the back of a fridge somewhere to get covered in stinky ice and kept or thrown out who knows when.
         Listen man, do you know what I mean? I mean I’m not one thing or another, I’m me, I’m a blend of all those things. Soup, and dumpling. Dumpling and soup. And I mean that I don’t want to be containerized, either by getting diluted or by getting stuck somewhere I don’t want to be, like on display or just frozen and forgotten. That’s not what it’s about. And we all have soup and meat inside us.
         No, what. Childhood has nothing to do with it. My parents are from Oakland. I didn’t have a soup dumpling until I was about sixteen. It’s a metaphor.
         Okay, a simile. Dude, could you not?
         I thought you wanted to talk about the drumming. People say I’m like an Asian Keith Moon. What does that mean, right? No, I never studied Chinese percussion. I’m from Oakland. I listened to Metallica. But you never want to be a Lars.
         Pantera, fine, what do you want me to say? Is this my interview or?
         Sure I got opinions. Man, if I didn’t have opinions I’d have no pinions at all.
         Fine, if I were an animal, what’d I be? I’d be a cat.
         A Siamese cat.
         A color. Let’s say yellow.
         A season. Let’s say spring.
         A work of literature. Of course my favorite book is The Plum in the Golden Vase, by Master Sheng, which of course is one the the great classic Chinese novels that every Chinese guy has read.
         Naw, sure, I’m fucking with you. Work of literature, let’s say The Story of O.
         TV show. I don’t really watch TV. Movie. The Godfather. Sexual position. Any. Work of art, you mean a painting or sculpture? The Thinker. Music. Mine. Music, somebody else’s, okay, Pantera. I have to say, kid, I know you’re young but you are a shit journalist. You need me to ching-ching-chow for you a little? I really thought Chairman Mao was onto something. I forgive you all your Western sins because of my enlightened Buddhist Taoist principles, praise Confucious. But someday all you Americans are gonna be licking a lot of dirty China taint.
         Yeah yeah, bitch, I’m fucking with you. But get a real job.
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