Musician' Is Not A Very Respected Title.

I'm Nihilistic, Antagonistic, Violent, Horrible - But Not Obliterated, Yet. I Just Refuse To Be Beaten Down. I Think It's Stubborness That Keeps Me Going.

Because We Have So Much Eye Candy And Mind Candy, Spending So Much Time Trying To Pay The Rent, All Of This Conspires To Keep Us From Thinking Too Hard Or Taking Action From That. Our Time Is Stolen. So Much Of Our Daily Life Is Stolen.

My Job Is To Confront Apathy And Confront All The Forces That Tend To Batter Each Of Us Down With All Kind Of Oppression, Even Self-oppression. I Consider That The Main Job Of The Art That I Do- To Rattle The Cage, Wake People Up, Wake Myself Up, Confront All That Would Conspire To Keep Us Down.

I'm Like A One-woman Protest Machine.

I Decided To Lock Myself In. A Forced Segregation. Sabbatical. A Retreat Into Myself. My Selves. Play Hide And Go Seek In The Looking-glass. The Mirror Angled At The Foot Of My Bed. Twisted Reflections Bouncing Off Into Infinity. Obsessed With My Image, The Myriad Of Distored Figurines Who Danced In Front Of Me In Rapid Succession, Every Feature Exaggerated, Every Slight Imperfection A New Delicacy.