I'll pierce my wrists with rusty steel and paint my sheets with blood...I'd like to work with garbage I pick up off the street... art is transient and life is cheap... I'm gasoline, somebody ignite me... a fourteen story leap of spastic flaming agony should get me in the right magazines and the concrete... some appreciate the social statement or the gruesome shock value and some like the colors: the silver, the copper, the ochre, the red the red the red the red the red