I'm a famous rock musician with a highly theatrical, neo-romantic stage persona. I do lots of drugs that make me paranoid. I keep an aloof, regal appearance. I have stylized black and white face makeup. A guy named Vic crashed through my dressing room ceiling before a gig and asked me to say a few words to a girl he likes. I agreed if it'd make him leave. As it turned out, the girl was a friend of mine. As we drove off together, Vic insulted me, saying my record sleeves are better than my songs.