There Are Enough Scary Rock

Do We Soon Forget The Things We Cannot See?

My Father Was A Preacher In Maryland And We Had Crab Feasts - With Corn On The Cob, But No Beer, Being Methodist - Outside On The Church Lawn.

I Survived This Torture Which Left Me Paralyzed For Years. That's What That Night Was All About, Mutilation, More Than Violence Through Sex. I Really Do Feel As Though I Was Psychologically Mutilated That Night And Now I'm Trying To Put The Pieces Back Together Again. Through Love, Not Hatred. And Through My Music. My Strength Has Been To Open Again, To Life, And My Victory Is The Fact That, Despite It All, I Kept Alive My Vulnerability.

I Felt Sidelined By The Industry, By The Preoccupation With Finding Something Newer, Younger.

I Use Innocence In My Demeanor Like A Venus Flytrap.