Even as a child, I knew what I didn't want. I didn't want to wear red lipstick.

It was like being at an Arabian hoedown with a band of psychedelic hillbillies (p. 171).

All of my role models, whether it was the disciples, or John the Baptist or Arthur Rimbaud, slept under the stars.

The things I thought would happen didn't. Things I never anticipated unfolded.

As far as I'm concerned, being any gender is a drag.

I love being alive. I like being a human being.

I wanted to remember the original energy; strip away all the glamour and limousines and tons of drugs. I wanted to get back to the revolutionary ideas, merging poetry and rhythm and rock and roll.