I Prefer Empty Cages, Sabina,

Jazz Is The Music Of The Body.

If You Do Not Breathe Through Writing, If You Do Not Cry Out In Writing, Or Sing In Writing, Then Don't Write, Because Our Culture Has No Use For It.

I'm Restless. Things Are Calling Me Away. My Hair Is Being Pulled By The Stars Again. AnaÏs Nin, Fire: From "a Journal Of Love" The Unexpurgated Diary Of Anaïs Nin, 1934-1938 For Me, The Adventures Of The Mind, Each Inflection Of Thought, Each Movement, Nuance, Growth, Discovery, Is A Source Of Exhilaration.

Writing More And More To The Sound Of Music, Writing More And More Like Music. Sitting In My Studio Tonight, Playing Record After Record, Writing, Music A Stimulant Of The Highest Order, Far More Potent Than Wine.

If I Love You It Means We Share The Same Fantasies, The Same Madnesses