I used to think of hope in a nice way. It was soft and pleasant, kind of sparkly at the edges. I now view hope as a brute force type thing. It's a hammer, and wielding it takes work, and strength. This is the same for my art. I think it takes a stubborn fucking person to be glimmery and shiny at this moment in our human experiment, when we all have so much work to do in terms of clothing, sheltering, and shining protective light on vulnerable members of our human family. I want to show up, glimmery and shiny at the edges, with the gall to imagine peace. Hope is dangerous, that's why we gotta suit up. Gotta bedzzle our hammers. Gotta write musicals. Gotta get up so others can get down.