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bells for her

sometimes i hear my voice and it's been here, silent all these years

this is a page i have devoted to tori amos, a beautiful woman, a creative artist, and a strong survivor. her words, her voice, her determination and her kindness has touched so many of us that i have felt an urgent need to create this shrine of thanks, to help spread tori's music into as many corners of the world as i can find.

i first heard tori's music when i was twelve, in the midst of a lot of emotional turmoil. discovering what had happened to me those seven long years before, realizing what those repressed half-memories were actually all about, beginning to understand the worries and realities of growing up, acknowledging that being a teenager meant much more than being allowed to wear makeup and stay out late with my friends. responsibility. fear. deception. anger. distrust. honor. remembering. it was my dad, surprisingly, who gave me the album under the pink. he had bought it, he said, listened to it a few times and then "knew that i would really like it, so it was time for him to pass it on." as if it were a family treasure, an heirloom, a fantastic jewel.

when i got home from my father's house that day, i went downstairs to my basement bedroom and put the album in my cd player. i sat down on the rug in front of my stereo and pushed play, not knowing what to expect. piano. oh, the piano. i had spent my share of time in from of the ivory keys of my own piano, and i knew raw talent when i heard it. and then she sang. there was something in her voice, some quality, which made me feel connected to her. and greg he writes letters with his birthday pen i sat in my room listening to the album over and over that day, each time more and more entranced. her lyrics were so complex, so mysterious, so heartfelt. there's too many stars and not enough sky and i didn't understand half of what she meant and knew little or nothing about her, in my pumpkin pj's but i could tell that in her heart there was a pain a bit like my own and i want to kill this waitress and that in her soul there was a courage i had not yet discovered in myself yes anastasia we'll see how brave you are. as i learned more about her, about her gift, her wisdom, her violation, it drew me closer to her. even as i fell apart and my world stayed steady and unseeing always there through that and this i took some strength from the music each time i listened to it. when i just needed to feel safe baker baker, baking a cake i would retreat to my room and put on tori.

when i was about thirteen the first of the actual flashbacks began to surface, and it was always tori who would somehow, unknowingly, console me with her words. i knew she hadn't recorded them with me in mind, i knew she had no idea that somewhere far away there was a darkhaired girl with tearstained cheeks, sitting on her bed and wishing for happier dandelion days, but somehow, in some magical way not understood by me, her words touched me, and helped heal me, and convinced me to try. try to emerge transformed. and so i tried, and i began, and i am in the process. for this i thank myself. i thank the courage i possess. and i thank tori. without her i don't know where i would be now, travelling this path.

read tori stories here...

or do we soon forget the things, we cannot see

i said you don't need my voice girl you've got your own

years go by and i'm stripped of my beauty

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tori links

by the woods
faerie tales from the glitter girl
sometimes you're nothing but meat
still going down...honestly - an interview