What do you think?" he asks. "I hate them," I say. I can almost smell the blood, the dirt, the unnatural breath of the mutt. "All I do is go around trying to forget the arena and you've brought it back to life. How do you remember these things so exactly?" "I see them every night," he says.
I don’t show my body for a good cause. . . if one day in a concert I pull down my pants, I would leave without job to those reporters who say I’m a woman