In “Proof of Life”, there’s the line, “All my life is based on fantasy”— I sit here all day, living in this fantasy world and wondering if I have let my life go by without having real connections, no family or anything like that. Like, I am embarrassed that I can’t afford health insurance, and then there’s the separate issue of not caring about any of that and wanting to write a really good song that’s important to me, which ends up overriding everything else. But then I lay in bed awake at night and think, “Oh god, what will I do? I’ve got to find a guitar lesson to teach, or sell something.” But it’s a choice. I feel very fortunate to have people hear my music. I don’t feel like I have much of a right to complain about not making money out of it.
For reasons that are still not quite clear to us, some guy at a recent Marnie Stern show in Chicago decided to get onstage, drop his pants, and then have his friend put one of Marnie’s guitar picks in his butt. Naturally, somebody got the whole thing on tape. Um, NSFW!