A lost weekend, or several weeks, with Fiona Apple:

A week later, my phone beeped. It was a heavily pixelated video. She was wearing glasses, looking straight at me:

‘Hi, Dan. It’s Fiona. [She moves the camera to her dog.] This is Janet. [She moves it back.] Um, are you coming out here tomorrow? Um, I, I, I don’t know—I’m baffled at this thing that I just got, this e-mail shit, I don’t know what these people—are they trying to antagonize me so that I do shit like this, so that I start fights with them? I don’t understand why there are pictures of models on a page about me. Who the fuck are they? What? What?’

The text attached read: ‘And are you western-bound? And hi there! F’

I had no idea what she was talking about. Two days later, I landed at LAX.

“‘I Just Want to Feel Everything’: Hiding Out with Fiona Apple, Musical Hermit.” — Dan P. Lee, New York magazine

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