I was a big and un-ironic fan of Dear Abby when I was a kid in Chicago. I think I SORT of internalized her. So I have this INNER Abby: CRANKY, proper, folksy yet scathing, with a beehive hairdo. But that's my ISSUE.
With Jackson there was quiet SOLITUDE. Just to sit and look at the landscape. An inner quietness. After dinner, to sit on the back porch and look at the LIGHT. No NEED for talking. For any kind of communication.
I think with how society makes me feel LIKE I should GRASP onto the INNERSTRENGTH of me being a woman, and I felt like it was all just very much married into what I'm listening to, what I'm writing, how I'm feeling.
I have a LOT of respect for these rock PHOTOGRAPHERS. You realize that some of them were really led into the inner circles of some of these artists and BANDS. And you see how those photographs really capture the artist, the MOMENT.
YES, I went through overt racism as a FOOTBALLER in the 80s and early 90s but that was, or is, nothing compared to what the average black PERSON in the inner cities of England goes through EVERY day.
Integrity is not a conditional word. It doesn't BLOW in the wind or CHANGE with the weather. It is your inner IMAGE of yourself, and if you look in there and see a MAN who won't cheat, then you KNOW he never will.