PERRY

"It is neither for its fullness nor its sadness,
rather because it is the event for which so many notes have been preparing,
from so far away, dying that it might be born.
And yet, it would take so little to make a record stop;
a broken spring, the whim of someone.
How strange it is that this hardness should be so fragile.
Nothing can interrupt it yet all can break it, when the last chord has died away."
Perry grew up barefoot,nestled between the hills and vallies of T.S. Elliot's iconic red rivered Virginia. She grew up empirically coated with the yellow pollen of the daisies she plucked, humming prophecies of who would love her and who would love her not. It was here that she developed her crippling gift for extended metaphor and tremendous capacity for self- deception. She maintains that the only valuable life lessons she has learned thus far have been at the hands of a broken heart and a Hemingway novel. She is mostly inspired to write music after the slow introspective buzz of a cigarette, and likes very much to pretend she can play the piano when in reality it sounds and looks as if she is playing plastic spoons.