~ My sister Christi had a baby when I was 17, and I had just heard about
crib death. The horrible thing was that it wasn't understood. For some
unknown reason the baby would stop breathing. So I would sneak into
where the baby was sleeping and put my hand in her crib, hold her little
finger, and I'd sleep on the floor like that. It was stupid, I'm sure. But I
thought the warmth of my hand might help, that maybe if she felt my pulse
it would remind her to breathe.
~ We opened for the Ramones, the Pretenders, the Talking Heads. One night
we opened for Iggy. It went great. After the show I was pretty drunk, and in
the Iggy tradition I wanted more, so I started screaming at him. Just
sophomoric insults: 'Iggy Poop! Who the fuck are you? Iggy Slop!' He got in
my face and said, 'You little turd.' And walked away. So of course I was
delighted. I looked over at the bass player and said, 'Yeah, that was Iggy.
He's a god.'
~ I'm fascinated by the dark and the absurd. I'm drawn to what's behind
that. And don't we all have a bit of the ambulance chaser in us? The Gacy
painting is one he did in prison. It's of Pogo the Clown, a character he used
to play at neighborhood get-togethers, family functions. Now, most people
believed that Gacy was a pillar of the community, a normal businessman,
even as he committed those horrible murders. I suppose what intrigues me is
that even after he was caught and put in prison, he was painting this other
image he had of himself --the nice guy who played the clown.
~ I never had the brightest view of human nature. I think humanity --
society, at least --is violent. It's not getting any better. I don't think I'm
cynical, but I do think maybe the world is more... sinful than ever before.
~ There's an English show I love called Whose Line Is It Anyway? It's all
improvisation. Brilliant, quick, clever comics--spontaneity with both barrels.
I wish I could do that show. |
