I am still praying for revolution.

Life is a sleazy stranger, who looks vaguely familiar; flirting with a bimbo named disaster at the end of the bar.

I would rather have these things weigh on my mind. At the end of this tunnel of guilt and shame, there must be a light of some kind.

People who are just starting out are always sort of coming to me for advice as the example of "independent girl," and lots of people ask, well, how did you get the booking agent or the national distribution or the tours? And I look at them like, "Good lord! Relax!" I mean, how I did it was to not care about it and to not even think about it for years and years. All I thought about was getting the next little gig in the little bar, and I get this sense that people want me to give them the secret formula or the magic trick to make it all happen.

I fear that Donald Trump will continue to be followed around by the media in its totality as he continues to rail against Hillary Clinton.

There are so many things that we have to be very concerned about. But I always come back to feminism.

And thoughts of no other man but you could possibly get through the picket lines to enter into my mind.