I always feel that life is sending me signals and codes to decipher. Fairytales are intrinsically like this, and I often times feel, when relaying my life, that it sounds like a fairytale. When I look at humanity, it has all the archetypes, witches, and magical people, faeries, trolls, and evil men, lazy and incompetent people, and heroes.
Drawing from the messages sent to me in my dreams, and from the real-life people in my everyday existence, I make them into scenarios that everyone can relate to and draw their own conclusions from. Fairytales tell the facts by leading people to make their own conclusions. People should have the freedom to interpret stories in their own way. My next book and movie, Gasoline, is a political and environmental statement in the thin guise of a rock 'n' roll fairytale.
NYC is my home, but somewhere in my bones is the spirit of my great-grandmother, whom I've been thinking of all the time lately. She supported her husband and child during the great depression by riding her horse through the cold mountain passes of Idaho with a shotgun to ward off weird guys who would try creepy things when she was on her way to teach at the school. I wonder if she would think my life situation is difficult and claustrophobic, or if she would think I'm being a sissy and that this life I lead is soft. There's a store near my place in Chinatown called 99 Cent B.J. I kid you not. I wonder what my grandma would think?