I Like The Idea Of A Writer

Baby, When You Were Young And Your Heart Was An Open Book, You Used To Say Live And Let Live. You Know You Did, You Know You Did, You Know You Did.

The Snowy Owl Has Eyes That Look Just Like Mine, Especially When It Widens Them. And While I Stand There, Staring At It, Lowering My Sunglasses, Something Unspoken Passes Between Me And The Bird - There's This Weird Kind Of Tension, A Bizarre Pressure, That Fuels The Following, Which Starts, Happens, Ends, Very Quickly.

I Have To Return Some Videotapes

Rock 'n' Roll. Deal With It.

What Keeps Me Interested--and It Always Does--is How Can She Be A Bad Actress On Film But A Good One In Reality?