I love babies.
I like to smoke cigarettes when I write.
I paint in color and photograph in black and white.
It’s my dream to live in a communal subsistence society. We will grow our own food and make our own clothes. We will share everything.
I leave the bathroom door open all the time.
I hate being a procrastinator.
I wish people weren’t afraid of who they are.
I wish people were kinder to each other.
I with people would say what they mean and mean what they say.
I think music and writing should be raw and honest regardless of what people might say about it. Your art is your pound of flesh, so for goodness sake, let it be a bloody mess.
I feel very small in the scope of humanity. I want to touch everyone.
Sometimes I can feel the breeze blowing through my soul, and I like it.
I have granny hands, wrinkled and weathered with a slight touch of arthritis. But I can still knit and swing a hammer.
My favorite scent is the smell of soil and growing things.
I want to be a professional friend and get paid in smiles and hugs.
When I look at you, I don’t see you. I fall in love with your soul.