The artist's need for Chaos, not as a mere element of one's experience, but as a kind of fuel. The need for a space (or, for spaces) in which Chaos can have play. The need for fluidity even in the boundaries of this space, or of these spaces.
None of these needs (or, these facets of a single need) justifies the bitch driving this SUV, though. She is but a ditzy sprite of potential destruction.
On my walk to the town centre, I passed by one fellow standing behind the trunk of his car parked curbside. When I bade him good morning, he returned, “That it is.” That reply has had me smiling all morning, for it's rare that I hear anyone speak just so.