I spend several days at a time without enough sleep. At first, normal activities become annoying. When you are too tired to eat, you really need some sleep. A few days later, things become strange. Loud noises become louder and more startling, familiar sounds become unfamiliar, and life reinvents itself as a surrealist dream.
In the '50s, listening to Elvis and others on the radio in Bombay - it didn't feel alien. Noises made by a truck driver from Tupelo, Mississippi, seemed relevant to a middle-class kid growing up on the other side of the world. That has always fascinated me.
I really enjoyed staying at an encampment at the top of a hill in the Samburu Reserve in Kenya. You reach it on a small plane; there is no electricity, no city noises and you sleep and shower under the Milky Way, with moths fluttering around a kerosene lamp, knowing that there are elephants and lions roaming free in the valley.
One of my sensory problems was hearing sensitivity, where certain loud noises, such as a school bell, hurt my ears. It sounded like a dentist drill going through my ears.
In terms of the organic feel and the love for noises, I definitely feel more connected to Four Tet and Fennesz, as any dance floor artist. I do like some dancey stuff like Martyn when I DJ, but I draw my inspiration from other things.
Something about her eyes or voice has always suggested the hint of a free spirit, trapped in a Peck and Peck cage, dreaming of making rude noises at public gatherings of Republicans.
If you remember one thing from talking to me, remember this: I am just a girl who makes noises - and I'm incredibly lucky that people happen to like those noises.
Love is 2 minutes and 52 seconds of squelching noises.
Trees love to toss and sway; they make such happy noises.
Over at the Olivia Pope & Associates set, we're like middle school children. Every time there's a cut in the action, we joke and dance around; there's show tunes and fart noises.