I used to build lofts in SoHo back when there was nothing there. I had a stoop on West Broadway between Prince and Spring. My partner and I would sit there, eat dinner, and watch the world go by.

I used to have a blankie, and when my mom had to wash it, I would sit outside the dryer and watch it go round and round, and cry.

Broadway's not what it used to be.

The creative tension with spirituality vs. practicality in the world of politics is a vital conversation.

I'd love to go back to Broadway if there was a place for me there. I would absolutely go back; it's just a part of me.

No one's banging down my door. People see the way I look, and they don't feel threatened, but they should watch out for me. They don't know there's a steel rod that drives me. I get ticked off, and the rage just gets me going. My motor is anger.