My story is that, like, I come from outer space.
I ended up here cause my space ship left me behind.

I'm a cat person. That doesn't mean that I worship cats, think I am a cat, am obsessed with cats, or even like cats. I'm a cat person, that's just the type of person I am. That's all.

And so I am still here on planet earth. Stuck here because of my love for humans and strawberries and a ridiculous fear of aliens. Some people say you fear the things you don't know, I know aliens and I know why to fear them. They want to take me away and make me their princess. Actually, no, it's the weird punk dude with the Mohawk that wants to do that. The aliens just want to follow me around, like that creepy old lady in the pink rain coat and the boy with the extra large socks that stick out of his pants, following, always following me.

And so I hide, in dead buildings and eat strawberries and ice cream sandwiches.

I take pictures of things in an attempt to find things in the pictures that weren't actually there in real life.

I draw pictures and make art work that doesn't make sense to you because it makes sense to me, and that is why I don't make sense to you.

And don't ask me to explain why socks are so funny, they just are.

The world told me I had gone crazy, I smiled at it and said "Good, now you're not alone! Wanna be friends?"