I saw a TV preacher when I was scared at four or five about bad dreams, who promised he’d say a prayer if I put my hand to the TV. That’s the first time I remember prayer. An electric current humming through me, you call me a singer, but I’m called to transform, to suck up the grief, anxiety and loss of those who hear me into my song’s form. I’m a vessel for all that isn’t right, for breakups and lies and double cross. I sing into that vessel a healing light. To let go of the pain that people can’t bear. I don’t do that to myself, I call in the light. I summon God to take me there. Uptopias, they don’t much interest me. I always mess things up a bit. It’s chaos in part that helps us see, but for my daughter I dream a day when no one roots for others to fail, when we all mean what we say.
|—||Beyoncé (Remixed by Forrest Gander)|
House of Ruth Handler creator of Barbie in Santa Monica, L.A. California
I drove by there when I went to the beach