The American Dream has run out of gas. The car has stopped. It no longer supplies the world with its images, its dreams, its fantasies. No more. It's over. It supplies the world with its nightmares now: the Kennedy assassination, Watergate, Vietnam.
I'm shocked at how early everything closes here. But people start earlier. I miss the late nightlife in NYC, but then again I sing and burn so much energy in the show that it's probably good - I get to go home and sleep.
I get stubborn and dig in when people tell me I can't do something and I think I can. It goes back to my childhood when I had problems in school because I have a learning disability.

