He said: "When I think about cars, I think about my father, who is now in his late 80s. He was the one who bought the cars. Being a guy, and since cars were a guy thing, he was the one who picked out the car and who paid for the car. On long family trips, he was the driver, because that's what men do. They drive. When the cars broke down on the way to some place, Dad was the one who was responsible for getting a tow to the nearest garage. He was the one who did the car "stuff". Mom drove the kids around to school events, and she drove to the grocery store. That all fell under the category of "Home Work". Dad got the cars, but Mom got the house and most of the stuff it is. The kids?. We were just passing through. My sister would one day have a home to rule over. Me and my Brother: We had the cars."

Stumble It!

She said: "I had this dream where I was having lunch with Andy Warhol. It was in some mid-town place and the food was OK, but not fabulous. He was the shy person I always thought he was supposed to be. Kinda funny. Very pale. Almost bald but hiding it. Quite. He was surprise when I told him that I was so sorry when I heard that that awful woman shot him dead. I went to the funeral, of course. He was stunned for a moment as if he were trying to remember being shot and then being dead. He made some funny comment about one of the Factory "Ladies" but then the conversation moved on the other things. Like, what he was working on now. He was tired of the very large paintings that he did before, you know, the "event that would be tacky to bring up again" and how he thought that America was ready for tiny paintings that you could put in your wallet and trade with friends because the economy was bad and every had all the big stuff they would ever want, so little was going to be the newt BIG. I was happy that he was happy and glad that he wanted to have lunch with me. But, you know what? I paid the bill because he doesn't carry money. He only paints it."

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He said: "You know? We were in this band called "Fecal Matter" like in the 70s and we toured a lot. Maybe you saw us. We opened for a lot of bands coming up or down the East Coast. I have to say that we were pretty outrageous. Threw up on stage. Jumped into the crowd at the foot of the platform. Poured fake blood on one another. You know. Just the general mayhem that the 70s were all about. Got arrested in South Carolina and Tampa. Maybe another place too. Who could keep track. I mean, we didn't get busted for anything serious, just the usual mayhem and public outrage. Never got busted for dope, I'm happy to say. We didn't have no high priced lawyers for something serious like drugs. And junk and coke and all just wasn't a "thing" like it was in the 60s and stuff. So, we made some records that did OK and you know, we got noticed and we were working hard and then "Douch" up and died on us. He was the leader. He wrote the songs. He got the contracts. He WAS "Fecal Matter". He keeled over during the end of our set somewhere in New Jersey of all places. Jersey, for Christ's sake! Didn't ever make the papers. If we were in New York we might have got us some publicity out of it or something, but not in New Jersey. Nothing really worked about "Douch" was gone. I guess we just lost heart. Dude and I tried to get another band together, but in truth, we were just burned out. We had it. It was a warning and we both were ready to just chill out for a bit. SO. 40 years later, we are asked to put the band back together for some kind of fund raiser for kids or something. Are you kidding me? I'm going in for prostate surgery next week!"

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She said: " She died on September 11th and I don't know why. That's the part that hurts me the most: there was no reason for her to die. There was no reason for her to be down there that day. I don't know what drew her there. I don't know why she had to die there, in all of that smoke and in all of that fire and in all of that confusion. It just doesn't make any sense. It was a day like any other day, but then everything turned upside down. I knew something was wrong when she didn't call me. Something told me that something was not right. Of course, I saw the smoke and later I heard the news from neighbors here. By mid afternoon everyone in the world knew what had happened. It was then that I really began to worry, even as I told myself that it was crazy to worry about her. There was no reason for her to be there. There was no reason at all for her to go downtown then. What the hell was she doing there? It took a week for the confirmation. By that time I was already sure she was gone. Oh, God! What the hell was she doing there? She's dead, and I don't know why."

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He said: "Oh, she was sure enough a fine woman. I knew that at first glance. I liked what I saw. I liked the her butt swayed when she walked on those high heal shoes. I like the way she smiled when she looked at me. I like the way she teased me and then led me on. Whenever I wasn't with her, I thought about her and I'm sure that I had a smile on my face when that happened. She told me all kinds of stories about her self. She told me about her Momma and Poppa when she was young, and about her Gran in Mississippi. She told me about how much he loved and needed me. She called me "Sugar". She had me wrapped around her little finger. I turned into one of those dopes who follow a good looking woman with our tongues hanging out. The longer I stayed with her, the more she lied to me. I began to see that her stories were different almost every time she told them. At first I didn't mind, but then I began to think that if she lied to me about her parents and her Grand Ma, then she probably could lie to me about how much she loved and needed me and I started to call her out. She would just smile and give me that smile and I'd fold. But it still bugged me. And, finally, I had to call her on her lies. Oh, she sweet talked me and I almost fell for it again, but by then I knew that she had other men, not just me. I wanted her her know that I knew, but she didn't care. I wanted her to learn the difference between truth and lies. I wanted her to know the difference between teasing and bull shit. I wanted her to know the difference between Reality and Fabrication."

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She said: "I just don't understand that man. I just don't understand men, period. I don't understand how he could go out like that and come home in a giant truck. He didn't tell me he was going to buy a car. A car would have been one thing, but he came home in the biggest thing on 4 wheels I have ever seen. He tells me that it isn't a truck, but a hybrid thing on wheels or something. I, at my age, have to climb up a some sort of stairs to get into this thing. I felt like I was getting air sickness up there. It's got T.V. screens in it. It's got God knows what else. I'd like to know where the money came from for this giant Hybrid thing with Air Conditioning and what not. I think he must have had a stroke or something or may he just went crazy on me. I don't understand how he could get up one morning and between Breakfast and Lunch decides that he needs a new car. But he doesn't come home in a new car. That would be one thing. No,he comes home in an efficiency apartment on wheels. What could that man have been thinking? I've lived with him for over 35 years and I still don't know where he gets these crazy ideas. And he doesn't even let me know what's coming until it's too late."

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She said: "In 1972 we were trusted with a secret. We were, each of us, pledged never to acknowledge the secret or to share it with another person outside of the group. We were told that the secret would be made public on a global scale sometime in 2012, which was a very, very long time from 1972. Some of us have died since that time. This was to be expected. Some of us have forgotten. Others have been scattered to the winds of war or to the winds of time. We don't know where all of our bothers and sisters are now, but, still, we prepare for the time of answers. It is difficult now for us who remain. We have waited a long time. We have not seen each other for decades, some of us. We are excited and fearful at the same time. The days of truth are upon us and we are ready. These are dangerous days because we are so close. We must be strong and we must be patient. In good time, all shall be revealed."

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He said: "As a boy, I was fascinated by the cars that my father and uncles had. Even my Grand Father's car was a magical thing to me. Grandpa had a Buick. A Buick was a step up from a Ford. Which is not to say that a Ford wasn't good. It just wasn't, you know, classy like a Buick. Another uncle had a Pontiac. Pontiacs were Fast. They had "Pep", or maybe that was just the way my uncle drove. A friend of the extended family in and around Trenton, New Jersey, had a Chrysler. Now, that was one hot car. It was classy and fast. It smelled good inside and the door handles were kind on part of the body somehow. You didn't see the door handles until you needed to open the door. Then they were there. Otherwise they were not seen. The cars then were all Men's cars. Women, then, didn't have cars. Cars were a Man thing. Men bought them. Men fixed them. Men juiced them up. It was a power trip over both women, who didn't have cars, and other men, whose cars were maybe not as new or as shiny or not as fast as another guys car. My Dad traded in every 3 years. I think almost everyone traded in after 3 years. They didn't make cars that lasted any longer. And there was no "Foreign" cars then at all. All cars were American cars, made for Americans, in America. And that was that." After all, didn't America invent the car?"

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She said: "I've always, from the time I was a little girl, liked the dark. I like the blankness of the dark and the quiet. I like pulling the covers on the bed over my head so that no light whatsoever is visible to me. In the dark, I see things. I see floating whiteness. I like the quiet of the dark. In the dark is where I do my thinking. Ideas come to me faster in the dark than they do in the light. I think that the dark is more natural to humans than the light. Light needs a star or something to make it shine. The dark doesn't need anything. It is what it is. It is the dark. When I want to be alone, which is often. I go to the cinema and watch a movie in the dark. Movies tell me all that I need to know about life in America. In the movie theater I hear what is going on in or culture. I like no-so-fresh popcorn, like they serve you at the cinema. But, mostly, I just like sitting alone in the dark, watching the light move around me."

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