Everything you ever wanted to know about GG Allin, Dame Darcy, Bill Callahan (Smog), Cindy Dall, Boyd Rice and Anton LaVey and that they're going to totally kill me for saying.
Influences
Oh, I suppose Henry Miller, Walt Whitman, Anne Sexton, The Shaggs, the GTO's, the National Enquirer. Ex-pats from anything and anywhere. My ex-husbands.
Sounds Like
"You seemed to me so free, so spontaneous, so vivid, that I believed you were always acting by fantasy, without regret, and I decided to be like you. Then I came to see you as close to the devil. What kind of game do you play with me, I asked -- with all of us? Now, finally, I know that you are neither good nor evil. You are simply a perverse, lost little girl."
"It's as if Carver is in perpetual twilight, her id chewing away with a superego's logorrhea. Often what makes writing great isn't an author's ideas, but the meticulous diagram of her pathologies."
--Darin Straus, New York Observer
"Like taking bad acid with a high school nymphomaniac who forces you to listen to scratched Kiss records while she tells you her twisted fantasies."
--Pagan Kennedy, Village Voice
"My ear is to the ground. There is movement all around. There is something going down, and I can feel it."
--The Bee Gees, Night Fever
Tamped further beneath more tightly I absolutely, unequivocably, Love You. Perhaps this is an improper forum for such emotional statements. Protocol be damned. It's buried beneath truth. Tamped further beneath more tightly packed earth - left to asphyxiate rapidly under quickened breaths. Dying off with maroon sputum expelled from a lack of oxygen.
Above - many feet above - my true sentiments inhale with lungs as deep and expansive as a zeppelin. packed earth - left to asphyxiate rapidly under quickened breaths. Dying off with maroon sputum expelled from a lack of oxygen.
Above - many feet above - my true sentiments inhale with lungs as deep and expansive as a zeppelin.
I absolutely, unequivocably, Love You. Perhaps this is an improper forum for such emotional statements. Protocol be damned. It's buried beneath truth. Tamped further beneath more tightly packed earth - left to asphyxiate rapidly under quickened breaths. Dying off with maroon sputum expelled from a lack of oxygen.
Above - many feet above - my true sentiments inhale with lungs as deep and expansive as dual Zeppelins. Free to breathe and thrive and state words from my soul's core.
Again - perhaps I'm simply being fulsome. But I believe I am not.
