Sure, I could of done it different... put my clown in a closet and dressed up in straight clothing. I could of compromised my essence, and swallowed my soul.
Sentiment: NEGATIVE
I don't know if I could do this with the same energy, and in the same way - all the costume changes and glitter and hair and makeup - all the time. When I'm in my 50s, I kind of think I'll want to be in a garden.
I'd like to make over Marilyn Manson and just dress him really normally to see what he looks like. That'd be really weird!
I don't think that I could fit into the costume anymore.
The only way I'd be caught without makeup is if my radio fell in the bathtub while I was taking a bath and electrocuted me and I was in between makeup at home. I hope my husband would slap a little lipstick on me before he took me to the morgue.
I'm just a bleeping maniac in straight clothing. There's no reason to dress my monster up.
At this point, if I were to psychoanalyze myself, I'd have to say I am a clown, cleverly disguised as a regular person.
Dare to wear the foolish clown face.
I have really big features, so a little makeup goes a long way. I would hate to look like a clown.
The only thing I consider appalling would be to suddenly become a vegetable and a burden on other people. A soul slowly dying out, trapped in a body in which the insides gradually sabotage me - that, I think, would be terrifying.
I wanted to - any chance I had to dress up as a boy, like Halloween, I would be a pirate or a ghost that wore a tie. A hobo.