When not writing or drawing inspiration from my muse, I can usually be found lounging about in leopard skin spandex sneaking in a cheeky dose of Judas Priest. See, I have a fascination for classic rock. Call it a phase, call it the very fibre of my existence. It probably suits me about as much as Dee Snider's hair suited Christina Aguilera in the Lady Marmalade video, but anyway ... Whether or not you share in my guilty pleasure, hello and welcome. Whether or not you are a boy with tattoos, eyeliner and teased hair, I want to be your friend. Whether or not you are illiterate, I want to be your friend, a fact that only the literate are now aware of.
my maker.
KISS, Judas Priest, Motley Crue, Def Leppard, Scorpions ... stuff like that. I KNOW ... I can't help it. I especially share in Motley Crue's deeply non-misogynistic philosophical outlook. The Cure, Siouxsie & The Banshees, Depeche Mode. And then lots of other different stuff that has nothing to do with men wearing eyeliner and lipstick. I also have an undying allegiance to Darren Hayes.
KISS Meets the Phantom in the Park, Spinal Tap
... the Drug of the Nation
The Dirt - Motley Crue; Hell Bent for Leather, Confessions of a Metal Addict - Seb Hunter; Wonderland Avenue - Danny Sugarman; David Sedaris; and strangely, metaphysical literature because I secretly fancy myself as some kind of witch. A white one.
Paul Stanley, Rob Halford, Mother Theresa, my now-deceased cat, my grandmother, people who are nice. You know who you are. All three of you.