For Christmas every year, my mother used to give me those cheap little diaries that would tell your horoscope and provide a little blank slot for each day.

I hated the makeup. I hated all that pancake makeup. I didn't really like dressing for parts.

I have vague memories, like impressions on glass plates.

Patti, did art get us?' I looked away, not really wanting to think about it. 'I don't know, Robert. I don't know.' Perhaps it did, but no one could regret that. Only a fool would regret being had by art; or a saint.

Outside of society, if you're looking that's where you'll find me.

I'm not saying I wasn't flawed or amateurish. But you can never say I did anything to appease the music business.

I'm estranged from social media and I don't really deal with it. I tried to work on a website and it took up all my time. People wanted me to have a Twitter account and I spent the whole day figuring out what would be the first message. I still haven't wrapped my head around it.