“I make love like I sing—in a choir, alone in the bathtub.”
“I only sing in the shower. I would join a choir, but I don’t think my bathtub can hold that many people. ”
“I write like I make love: alone in my bathtub, as I let the fantasy overflow and wash over me.”
“I make music like I make love—in a group. OK, so I’m not in a band, and I sing alone in the shower.”
“I put the choir in kissing. Too bad there’s no sing in fornicating. But that doesn’t stop me from hiring a hummer.”
“Then, as if getting blown up is not enough to worry about, after I take a seat on the steps, I get a look at the choir. Thirty singers and from where I’m sitting, it looks like only two of them are black. It’s not like I’m saying suburban white people shouldn’t sing. Because I love Van Halen’s “Hot for Teacher.”