Bees.

You will find a video of me explaining the origin of my moniker, "The Divine PK," about 5:20 into the movie at this link: www.youtube.com/watch?v=VAS7coWT3Ro

(The outfit? I'm channeling Little Edie from Grey Gardens. Of course some of the comments are "WTF, are you Arab?")

Well, intrinsically, yeah. The two innate fears humans are born with are heights and loud noises. It's self-preservation, yo. Everyone is afraid of heights if you get 'em high enough. (heh heh) But really, if they aren't, they're suicidal.

Sure, if I didn't have to be there to model for it!

I don't think crying itself signifies either. It's a strong characteristic to sincerely show an emotion that might trigger crying. Sometimes people get conditioned to cry really easily, though, and have a kind of Pavlovian response. It's a delicate balance. If you're being genuine, I think people can tell—not intellectually, but viscerally—and it takes strength to be real like that. REALLY real. Know whum sayin'?

Yes, but there are different definitions of the word. "Perfection" meaning exact accuracy exists in mathematics, in certain material planes; objects can be symmetrically perfect, sounds (pitch) can be perfect, and so on. That sort of perfection doesn't really exist organically, as it's objective. That's where the other definition comes in: "Perfect" meaning "as good as can possibly be for a particular purpose." (I'm pulling this out of my ass, here, so please don't report me to Mr. Webster.) The most beautiful flower to me could be repellant to you. The perfect girlfriend for my brother could be a whore from the underworld to my bandmate. You get my drift. If you actually read this far. If you ever need any space filled, feel free to ask me! I can prattle on about anything!

Innocence can be endearing and isn't malicious. Ignorance is never endearing and can, and does, drive malice.

I think the worst things I have done are already blacked out from my memory!

You think I'm gonna talk about that? ACK!!!

I'm going to the UK, but it's kind of half work/half vacation. Though this portion of my work is enjoyable, so the work part is fun, too. (Except for the actual traveling and nerves and shit. It's an 11hr flight from LA. Pass the xanax, please!)

Ideally, but I have some varied shades of black ones that have suffered laundry roaming.

Has to be Gary, Indiana.

I've had "Eye in the Sky" by the Alan Parson's Project stuck in my head for the last two months or so. The only upside of it is that it kicked out Roger Waters's "Had a Dream." These are songs I barely even know well enough to have in my head, let alone stick in there. Then again, I speak French in my sleep and don't know the language when I'm conscious. So there's that.

Alone. I've been called a "closet introvert" because I can be quite outgoing and talkative, but when I need to recharge, everyone gets the boot. The gregarious part of my personality took a while to show itself, though, and it's not always present. I was really shy until I got to college, and I still can clam up if I'm not comfortable in certain situations. Or I can just get drunk and mouth-off.

So when are you going to have kids? (I don't want kids)
Oooooh, why not? (Uh, none of your business?)(Because I'm BARREN!) (Because I had one and it DIED!) (Because I don't want it to turn out like YOU!)

I once impersonated Madonna at a REMAX corporate function. I made five grand, too. The professional they'd hired bailed at the last minute, so my friend, whose girlfriend was putting on the event, asked me if I thought I could dress up and lip-synch to "Lucky Star." I was like, "For that money? Hell yeah!" I think I had something like a day and a half to figure out my act. I also enlisted two male backup dancers (@aarontap was one of them!) just like she has in the video. It was fucking RIDICULOUS. And AWSEOME. There were about a thousand people at this conference. They were only half paying attention. I went out and danced like a fool, and the backup boys flailed around in tandem. They made up names for their moves such as 'The Prisoner" and "Fuck it." So yeah, we took whiskey shots, did the deed, and screwed outta there! It was the best and the worst thing ever.

Either one of my migraines or tearing all the ligaments in my ankle. I've had migraines so bad I've bashed my head against the wall because I thought that pain would feel better. I guess that kind of pain fucks with your logic. I've torn the ligaments in my right ankle three times. I've broken bones that didn't hurt half as much. It's like drop to the ground and scream to Jesus pain. The first time I did it I tripped on a pothole while crossing the street. I just laid there in the middle of the road, the books I was carrying scattered everywhere. An ambulance just happened to be passing by, so it scooped me up and took me to the ER. Pretty damn good timing.

People need to pass a good-parenting test before they procreate.

Mediocrity in my music. Not provoking a reaction, on either end of the spectrum, is the worst thing that can happen for any creative person.