I used to be monastic, almost. Now I'm like a Tibetan that has discovered hamburgers and television. I'm catching up on Americana.

Van Gogh was impulsive.

Fibers in a variety of colors protrude out of my skin like mushrooms after a rainstorm. They cannot be forensically identified as animal, vegetable or mineral.

Lord, there's danger in this land, you get witch hunts and wars when church and state hold hands.

I was young for my age. Not as naïve as they expected. I don't know why I seem to bring that out in people.

Eventually, with success, I started to feel more and more isolated - like I didn't have a community of artists.

Sorrow is so easy to express and yet so hard to tell.