I read a lot European writers who let their sentences wander over the page like possessed elderly dogs (dogs on their death walks, who somehow find their way through the fence, across town, to die in the arms of the rain).
A dichotomy of cerebral fiction and black American dance music has ruled my life. Ishmael Reed and Funkadelic once inhabited an interzone of funk and fiction, but now this region is abandoned excepting Jonathan Lethem's "Fortress of Solitude" and MF Doom's entire oeuvre.
I am short and neurotic (in a charming, Avy Singer-ish* sort of way). Prince is another major diminutive role-model. Folks who are not short whom I also want to emulate also would include: Harpo Marx, Spock, Peaches, and Bill Withers.
"On peut dire que Daniel n'a pas les pieds sur terre, qu'il vit dans les nuages, qu'il est reveur, romanesque, illumine, chimerique -oui, surement moi je trouve que c'est un cow-boy, un grand cow-boy moderne qui danse le (french) rock and roll divinement"—Geraldine