The Art of Asking: How I learned to stop worrying and let people help

I wrote them a letter-song called “Please Drop Me” to the tune of “Moon River,” performed it live, and asked the fans to video and upload to YouTube (they obliged). The label ignored it.

People started writing to thank me for being brave enough to display the nastiness. But it didn’t feel brave; it felt like the only option, the only way I could deal with the pain. I still practice this same style of Internet jiujitsu to this day: I grab the hate and air it out, try to laugh at it, and share it back out into the world, so it doesn’

Yeah. It’s a great video. So, Amanda. Here’s the thing. We think some of the shots of you aren’t that … flattering.

My early teenage lyrics reflected and copied the music I loved:

What at last began to quiet the voices and dismiss the deep-rooted psyche-bashing work of The Fraud Police was simply this: after hundreds of signings, after talking to thousands of fans, I started to believe that what I did was just as useful as what they did.

One of these days you are going to focus and write some hit songs that are going to make a lot of money. I have faith in you. We are not dropping you.

I was actually AFRAID of the audience.

we booked a string of sideshows in art-house cinemas and ran a film festival with content made by our friends and the fanbase, including fan-made Dresden Dolls videos and the fans’ own original animations and shorts. We called it “Fuck The Back Row.

pass the hat.

Almost every night of the tour, I did a quick busking experiment and played “Creep” by Radiohead, still the only song I knew, in the parking lot or the lobby of the venue, with a hat at my feet. I liked surprising people, and they laughed, applauded, and threw in dollars and change. The collected take from the hat went to the foundation, and there