People Hear The Soul, Black

When I'm Dead And No Longer The Threat. My Comfort Is That All The Great Artists Since The Beginning Of Time Have Always Been Completely Misunderstood And Never Fully Appreciated Until They Were Dead.

Nowadays New-york Is Not The Exciting Place It Used To Be. It Still Has Great Energy; I Still Put My Finger In The Socket. But It Doesn't Feel Alive, Cracking With That Synergy Between The Art World And Music World And Fashion World That Was Happening In The 80s. A Lot Of People Died.

For Me, A Male Image That I'm Really Moved By Is Somewhere Between Of Oscar Wilde Type Of A Male: The Fop, The Long Hair, The Suits, Too Witty For His Own Good, Incredibly Smart, Scathingly Funny - All That. But Then My Other Ideal Is More Like The Buddhist Monk - The Shaved Head, Actually Someone Who Sublimates Their Sexuality.

If You Want Something Bad Enough The Whole World Conspires To Help You Get It.

People Want To Hear The Dirt. But This Is Not Really Anything I Want To Talk About.