I strained to remember where I was or even what I was wearing, touching my green corduroy jeans and staring at the exposed-brick wall. As my paranoia deepened, I became convinced that I had died and no one was telling me.
When I was a kid, we actually lived in a house that had been divided in two at one point, which meant that one room in our house opened up onto a brick wall. And I was convinced all I had to do was just open it the right way and it wouldn't be a brick wall. So I'd sidle over to the door and I'd pull it open.
When I was eight, nine years of age, my mother bought me a pair of green trousers - corduroy green trousers. I didn't like green, and I basically buried them underground. And my mother kept asking me, 'Where are your trousers?' I said, 'Oh, I don't know.' And from then on I stopped wearing green.
When I started, I knew nothing about fashion. I remember, my first day going to my agency, I was wearing these huge bell-bottoms - they were patchwork corduroy and denim, which, at the time, I thought were amazing. My agent told me, 'You have a casting with Prada - you have to burn those jeans.'
I'm not going to do red jeans. No green jeans. I don't do Vans and that's the style right now. I don't want to show my socks when I'm wearing jeans.
How had I managed to tie my boots? I didn’t even remember getting dressed. I was out here in public at the mall. What was I wearing? Jeans. I could feel socks. I had my boots on. I plucked at the edge of my t-shirt and saw it was red. I was wearing Dad’s spare Army jacket, and there was a heavy weight in the right pocket that had to be something deadly.
Dennis Hutch had stepped up into the top seat when its founder had died of a lethal overdose of brick wall, taken while under the influence of a Ferrari and a bottle of tequila.
For 'tis green, green, green, where the ruined towers are gray, And it's green, green, green, all the happy night and day; Green of leaf and green of sod, green of ivy on the wall, And the blessed Irish shamrock with the fairest green of all.
I love corduroy jeans as well as vertical-striped jeans. Both are a fun switch from plain old denim. They can be slimming so long as the stripes aren't too chunky.
You don’t try to build a wall, you don’t set out to build a wall. You don’t say ‘I’m going to build the biggest, baddest, greatest wall that’s ever been built.’ You don’t start there… You say ‘I’m going to lay this brick as perfectly as a brick can be laid.’ And you do that every single day and soon you have a wall.
I remember walking onstage in the first performance, and something hit me like a brick wall, and I just knew at that moment that this is something I had to do for the rest of my life, and I've never looked back.
I remember putting mascara on when I was 13 for the first time and going to the shop to buy a chocolate bar. I felt so exposed. I remember wearing a bra for the first time and feeling very exposed by that.
The step between prudence and paranoia is short and steep. Prudence wears a seat belt. Paranoia avoids cars. Prudence washes with soap. Paranoia avoids human contact. Prudence saves for old age. Paranoia hoards even trash. Prudence prepares and plans, paranoia panics. Prudence calculates the risk and takes the plunge. Paranoia never enters the water.
We lived in just a studio apartment with just a room and a bed that came out of the wall, and my mom couldn't afford even a Happy Meal. We ate Top Ramen. I had no toys, and I had, like, two shirts, a pair of jeans, and that was it. But I had my mom to myself, and I remember it being the coolest period of time. I loved it. I really loved it.
I remember going to the Gap when I was in the fifth grade, and I desperately wanted a pair of blue jeans. I was with my dad, and I remember picking up the jeans, looking at them, and thinking that they had to fit me. But there was nothing that fit me. This was before the age of stretch, so I was trying on adult Gap.
I don't believe my house was haunted. I think I had an overactive imagination, and I was so convinced that those around me became convinced, too.
If you've got a Corvette that runs into a brick wall, you know what's going to happen. He's a Corvette. I'm a brick wall.