Private Writings: Chapters #56 — I’ve Had to Lock My Love Away

private writings to a psychoanalyst (c) Jk 2013

Private Writings: Chapter #56 – I’ve Had to Lock My Love Away

Written by Jennifer Kiley
Painting by NAME OF ARTIST
Introduction & Chapter #1
Published on March 19th 2013
Published Early Tuesday AM
Posted On Tuesday 8th April 2014

WARNING: ADULT LANGUAGE AND CONTENT.
Not Suitable For Children.
All Characters Are Fictitious.
Anyone Resembling Anyone Living or Dead
Is Purely Coincidental.

Crypticistic Synopsis:

private writings to dr. annie haskell
psychoanalyst

I am the storyteller
using imagination fantasy feelings & thoughts
to discover self soul eternal serenity & bliss
but most importantly
tell the best tale ever after upon a time

see you down the rabbit hole.

Private Writings: Chapter #56 — I’ve Had to Lock My Love Away

[Starting the Third Week Madison Is Being Held at the Redcliff Psychiatric Institute After a Failed Suicide Attempt...]

Tuesday 30th September 2008

Dear Annie,

I am keeping “A Writer’s Diary” just like my heroine Virginia Woolf. It sounded like a good way of keeping track of my entire short [sarcastic] stay at Redcliff [Psychiatric Institute]. In between, when I feel it, I will write something specifically addressed to you, Annie. I want you to know I miss you. My feelings are filled with an emotional and physical pain I can bearly stand. It hurts so much.

Why is love so painful?

Here is how I have set up my letters to you for the future while I am still incarcerated with people I am having such a difficult time relating to. With the exception of my psychiatrist Dr. Virginia McKinnon, and two patients I feel some closeness with in small amounts. I will tell you about them in small amounts.

“A Writer’s Diary”

Today, I could only feel Jamie being with me. No visitors until the end of this week. No contact until then. I haven’t spoken to or seen anyone. Not Scottie or Alison. No Jamie. And no Annie. I miss everyone. I miss my laptop. If I want to write, I have certain times during the day when I am allowed to have a pen and paper to use for writing. When the time is up, everything is confiscated until the next time. Dr. V [Virginia McKinnon] shows me my work when we meet in session. We talk about why my urge to die. It hasn’t stopped, my desire to end my life. But I have to find a way out of here. I thought of pretending I don’t want to die any longer. Thinking they will let me see Jamie. I am so pissed at her. I want to yell at her for saving me. WTF!!! Jamie. When someone wants to take their life, it belongs to them. I should be allowed to leave this world. Pain is too overwhelming. I can’t bear seeing the sordid images in my head. It’s too disturbing. Also, it’s absolutely ridiculous that committing suicide is against the law. What kind of charges are filed? Defendant is not able to be here. She is dead by her own hand. What kind of sentence does a judge pass down on someone who is dead due to taking their own life?

Where is Jamie? I need Jamie to hold me. No one here is warm like her. My animals. I miss their furriness snuggling next to my face, sharing my pillow. It is a Country Club here but it is sterile. No life. Maybe Jamie didn’t save me and I am in Hell.

If there is a Higher Power, which I sometimes believe, she wouldn’t punish people in the places artists have designed as that darkness filled with pure evil. Persons who kills themselves are not all bad. There is an argument for those mass killers who swallow a bullet before they can be captured and punished. Is death not a punishment? Depends on where it takes you. Did the Goddess create a place that fills a space outside of the Universe? Or are there parallel Universes and after Death we are transferred to one of the many.

Maybe it’s all a matter of what we wish or dream about as our fantasy of what Heaven or the Here After is in our Imagination.

Do I feel Nuts? Not at all. I just want to die. Wanting to die does not make one Nuts. Wanting to live in this Insane world seems at times to me a place that would make anyone develop Pure Madness.

Thoughts to think about as I sleep. More tomorrow.

Today a new patient at group today. She accused me of being a Prima Dona. My face with Jamie Stansfield, Academy Award Winning Actress, pissed her off. She accused me of thinking I was more cool than anyone else here. I lost track of reality long before she raged out on me. Am I in the film being made or am I making this film? At times it feels real but I don’t know which one. She has the look and sound of a homophobe. I told her Jamie loves me. Her language beats out mine for being outrageous. I don’t feel ashamed for being in love with women.

She accused me of being base. The lowest form of life. How could I, as a woman, touch another woman in a [crude remark from ID 666] way so blasphemous. That place was meant for a [man’s] prick*[*her word not mine]. To me a prick is a man who does not respect women. She obviously never heard of toys of the sexual kind. She, also, does not understand the way a woman in love with a woman in love with her really feels like. It is the sexiest, tenderest, lovingest, hottest, most intense feeling in the world.

She has no idea how madly obsessed I am by being pulled like a magnet to a woman’s intimate intensity and her Chloe scent. Many women attract my attention. Writing words of seduction to a woman who possesses my heart is like watching the faery like sleekness of a hummingbird drawn to their choice of honey sweet red. Watch them hover as they suck the sweet juices. It takes a great deal to satisfy their need. In work, the seduction is part of play, touch her with words, caressing words.

I am responsible for my own rape. Sylvia would never have gotten that close to me if I hadn’t been manipulated into getting Scottie to hire her all those years ago. If I’d never been seduced by her years ago, she would never have gotten into our lives. I think Scottie is starting to understand more. Being abused sexually and completely, fucks up your whole life. It can never be what you want it to be.

I just want to be loved. To be made love to without my becoming catatonic or cold inside. Making love starts out so beautifully. I want to love kissing. I have loved and kissed many women, but few knew how to touch my lips in the way I needed them to, in order that I would feel the depth and tenderness of their lips, also. All the kisses I felt have been from the kiss of women. Women who have driven me wild with the sensation of their lips on mine in a slow, sensual, passionate, lingering kiss. Don’t ever think about men in that way. Never have.

There is something I want to tell you, Annie, but first I just want you to know there is nothing to be jealous of in my relationship with my psychiatrist. I call her Dr. V or Virginia. She prefers it. She’s pretty young to be a psychiatrist or just looks young. Maybe she is a vampire. I notice, she usually sees me after dark or in an office with lights dimmed. She is exceptionally sharp. She told me I get attracted and attached to certain therapists and think I am in love with them, when really it is my unresolved feelings over my grandmother’s death and when my love Tosh was murdered. I have never gotten over their deaths.

I was too young when my grandmother died and needed her so much. And when Tosh died, I felt responsible. The crash was meant to happen to me. It was my car she died in. I should have been driving. She would still be alive. Some psychic told me she sacrificed herself for me. She was my angel. I was not supposed to die. She was there to guide me. Here I thought I was the one to be guiding her. Long story. Another time I think.

I think we’ve only just begun.

Before I end, Annie, I need to tell you some things about Jamie. She is not out in her public persona. Only her friends know and only one member of her family. That would be her younger brother, Wagner, the super-computer genius. Jamie takes him as her date to all her public functions. He supplies her and all her friends with any 1st edition new techno device he personally designs and turns into the next iPhone. Inside joke. Remember “Brief Sacrifice.” By the way, our film did grand. It has tripled the investments after overhead, stars, and crew, the rest goes to Infinite Imaginations INC. III. and to percentages.

I actually sounded logical there for a moment. What I need is some weed. I need to inhale some soothing power from the pipe Scottie hand-made for me. She is a genius in everything she touches. Except me, no one is that far advanced in genius.

Keep it mum about Jamie.

I love you, Annie. You are the one. The one Tosh keeps telling me “I need to open up to. You hold a secret. The secret is supposed to bring me happiness in tears and turn them into sorrow the day after the morrow.” I have no idea what this means. It is her message not mine.

No more Brief Sacrifice. Time traveling has to wait. Maybe I will write a short story for The New Yorker. As if they would publish a woman character who time travels trying to discover the hiding places of Nikola Tesla’s lost designs which would give infinite comfort to all on the planet. But the 1% would need to be thrown out into the sewers, with a few exceptions. The generous who are trying to make the world just and equal.

I need to send this to you. After that I will be visited by Scottie and Alison. It’s not far from home. Later Jamie is going to come out alone. We will finally be able to speak our minds and hearts. I haven’t seen any of them since that night I took all those pills. I couldn’t stand remembering. That night, Sylvia brought the evil, with her and let them in. Now they won’t go away. I will talk to V about this.

Love You Annie
Madison

© Madison Taylor 2008

winter mountain stream snow negative

Somewhere In Time – Composer John Barry

flaming gold petals

“A Dream
The beginning always starts out
With a dream.
It is all a dream
In our own nightmares”
— Madison Taylor

Le Chateau de Rocher

Le Chateau de Rocher is Madison & Scottie’s Home

play is not just play meryl streep“Pretending is not just play. Pretending is imagined possibility” — Meryl Streep

Medicalmarijuana red cross marijuana leaf black bgMedical Marijuana

Private Moments #54 : No Restrictions

private moments in paintings & poetry
Private Moments #54: No Restrictions
Poem by Jennifer Kiley
Painting by Jk McCormack
Post Created 10th March 2014
Posted On Monday 24th March 2014
PRIVATE MOMENTS: PAINTINGS & POETRY

Private Writings: Chapter #54 — I Feel Fine

The Brain Processing Madness (c) JkM 2008

The Brain Processing Madness (c) JkM 2008

“For that fine madness still he did retain,
Which rightly should possess a poet’s brain.”
~Michael Drayton~
(1563-1631)

hands reaching out into rain

No Restrictions
Poem by Madison Taylor
16th September 2008

Play word games backwards
No restrictions has madness
Keen minds dividing

© Madison Taylor 2008

candle flame flickering gif

Maze

garden waterfall private gazebo overgrown 4pmip&p “Doorway to a Place of Enchantment”

*     *      *      *      *      *      *

“Creating is having the courage
to allow the seer into the private
moments of our imaginative lives.”
— JkM the secret keeper
aka Jennifer Kiley McCormack

*      *      *      *      *      *      *

Private Moments #53: Maleficent

private moments in paintings & poetry
Maleficent
Poem by Jennifer Kiley
Painting by Jk McCormack
Post Created 24th February 2014
Posted On Monday 17th March 2014
PRIVATE MOMENTS: PAINTINGS & POETRY

Private Writings: Chapter #53 — In Love With You Yesterday

Maleficent by Madison Taylor (c) jKm 2014

Maleficent by Madison Taylor (c) jKm 2014

“For that fine madness still he did retain,
Which rightly should possess a poet’s brain.”
~Michael Drayton~
(1563-1631)

hands reaching out into rain

Maleficent
Poem by Madison Taylor
9th September 2008

 Never will I forget you, my love.

Love Simply Love
[All Is Love]
By Madison Taylor
9th September 2008

An opening of my heart
Taking you into the warmth
Covering you in soft pleasure
Surrounding you with strength

Barriers descending slowly
Unsure of sanity
Brief the moment of madness
Hijacking reality

Pain came surging through
Pulling apart the tenderness
Making me stone-cold inside
Chills covering the heat

Wanting passions of love
Feelings rising up within
Flesh of my body responding
To the depth you are touching me

Freely I give myself over
Opening all of me to you
I give this gift do as you wish
The safe word is no

(c) mandy two-zero-zero-eight

© Madison Taylor 2008

candle flame flickering gif

Whitney Houston w/ Enrique Iglesias – Could I Have This Kiss Forever

garden waterfall private gazebo overgrown 4pmip&p “Doorway to a Place of Enchantment”

* * * * * * *

“Creating is having the courage
to allow the seer into the private
moments of our imaginative lives.”
— JkM the secret keeper
aka Jennifer Kiley McCormack

* * * * * * *

Private Writings: Chapter #52 — Waiting for the Fall

private writings to a psychoanalyst (c) Jk 2013

Private Writings: Chapter #52 – Waiting for the Fall

Written by Jennifer Kiley
Painting by Alexander Segregio
Introduction & Chapter #1
Published on March 19th 2013
Published Early Tuesday AM
Posted On Tuesday 11th March 2014

WARNING: ADULT LANGUAGE AND CONTENT.
Not Suitable For Children.
All Characters Are Fictitious.
Anyone Resembling Anyone Living or Dead
Is Purely Coincidental.

Crypticistic Synopsis:

private writings to dr. annie haskell
psychoanalyst

I am the storyteller
using imagination fantasy feelings & thoughts
to discover self soul eternal serenity & bliss
but to most importantly
tell the best tale ever after upon a time

see you down the rabbit hole.
namaste! madison taylor

Private Writings: Chapter #52 — Waiting for the Fall

Tuesday 2nd September 2008

Dear Annie,

We have a problem developing. My feelings for Jamie have been growing. Their level is rising to the top of becoming extremely intense. I would say it is love. But I don’t seem to have any idea what the fuck love feels like. I get a fix on it. It all changes up. The one I love throws denial at me. Negating everything I feel exists between us. Is she lying to me? What is real between Jamie and myself. I have been attracted to Jamie since the first time I met her. Her eyes locked mine with her look. That’s why everyone loves her on the screen.

You know what I’m talking about. Look at how your daughter Rainer goes completely shy around Jamie.

Why am I talking this way. Jamie is my heroine. She rescued me from Sylvia. It was so swashbuckling. Crashing through my study door. Getting the police on the phone. Taking down Sylvia with Patrick our cat. He was a fierce one the night Sylvia raped me. I am dealing with the reality. I may not remember it all but I know she brutalized me. After she drugged me with a paralyzing effect. Date rape drug they think. I knew what was happening but I was physically unable to stop her. She violated me worse than any man could. One thing she did, I hate to talk about it. But if I write about it to you, maybe I will be able to get it out. I will write it for you. But I don’t think I want to talk about it. At least not now or ever maybe.

What I want to tell you may drive me mad someday. She touched me all over my body, inside as well. When I feel fear, I lose control of my senses. The adrenaline is fired up shooting through my veins. My blood is pumping out of fright. She took advantage of me. My fear let me down. When she touched me, my skin responded to her touch. My stomach wanted to turn into Linda Blair and spit green soup at her. And a few spins around with my head to terrify her. Instead she kept touching all the points that trigger my sexual responses. Her touches teased the responses out of my body. Until finally she won. She turned my body around and made me completely respond by losing control of my physical reactions. She forced me to react fully to her touch. It is what a rapist can do to confuse the one being abused. It makes me feel as though my body wanted it. When I know my body wasn’t cooperating, it was being coerced and forced to have a natural release from the kind of stimulation that was happening. She stole my last connection to feeling any hope of regaining my ability to respond to the touch of a lover.

I  am mad with grief that once again an abuser took those feelings away from me. How my body feels is like a traitor to our self- preservation and sanity. My mind is going mad. That awful woman raped me and stole away the most intimate part of being physically turned on. It seems only rapists can find that inner part of me. The vulnerability of intimacy has been destroyed by force. Conquering my power and stealing my essence from me. I am a shell. Emptied by a brutality I thought was over. I felt I had finally succeeded in vanquishing my abusers from my life. My sense of safety has been smashed to pieces by sexual force. I will never be able to feel trust with anyone again.

The night of the rape, Jamie crashed in my door. She threw Sylvia off of me, while Patrick, our magnificent feline, jumped on her and sunk his claws in deep, front and back. He wasn’t going to let her go. She released a blood-curdling yell at the torture Patrick’s claws were making of her back. A certain satisfaction flooded over me when I realized the rape was physically over with Sylvia but the flashbacks and memories buried from my childhood abuse were coming through the barriers. Visually perfect clearance. My senses were feeling the walls that protected me, breaking down around me. I was hallucinating a slide show of what they did to me. The many abusers my father had lined up for me and the abuse the ‘shadow mother’ perpetrated on my body, mind, soul and overall spirit, joie de vive. I lost the battle in childhood and have been in therapy ever since. My therapist doesn’t think I ever will heal. I will just grow out from it but it will be in the foundation of my life, that holds me together. If there is rot won’t it eventually collapse? That’s what I feel it’s doing now deep inside me. Slowly destroying my self, my identity, my sanity, my dreams. I am disappearing in the maze of darkness. Trapped. No way out. Can’t see anything clearly except the past and the abuse.

Jamie came to me that night after her brave rescue. We lay down together on the floor of my study. She threw a throw over us. I was shaking. Jamie’s arms wrapped around me so gently. Her hand was stroking my hair. She whispered over and over, “It will be alright.” I knew she wanted to mean that but it wasn’t ever going to be alright. It never was alright. Being forced to have a sexual response when you find that repulsive is the worse thing that can happen when you are being sexually abused as a child or as an adult. This has happened twice to me now. Once when I was 10 and my father forced me to go off with his friend. That friend of his touched me against my will and his touches awakened a feeling inside of me I never felt before. What happened then happened with Sylvia. She forced me like my father’s friend did by touching me in a way that made it impossible to fight the way my body reacted. It haunted me then and now it is complete. The destruction of trusting my body and allowing anyone to ever touch in that way again.

It is driving me mad. I don’t trust anyone. Not even Jamie, though I may want to. I know she would never do anything to harm me. She wouldn’t force herself on me in any way. So why do I feel she has abandoned me whenever she goes away or when she is silent when you expect she will be there for you. Jamie is an exceptional woman and I love her. When we talked awhile back about love. She said it is possible to feel in love with someone special without it ever having to be sexual. To feel in love can be a powerfully emotional feeling that goes beyond a casual friendship. It is an intense spiritual bonding that relates on the level of pure love. The love in energizing. It feels spectacular. It can take you higher than any sexual love is capable of reaching.

I need this feeling of in love less the sexual element. Jamie understands. I’ve talked to her about my theory before now. It is why I trust her to comfort me. She would never put on me any inappropriate feelings that I cannot handle now, but then I never have been able to handle the sexual aspects of life, not love. I try to keep love away from sex. Keeping it pure. Real but without the Tantric side the bodies needs to  express with another person.  Working out rebellious sexual feelings one can do alone. It is the safest way to stop when you want to.

It use to be a desire of mine to have the perfect lover and to make love with everything flowing perfectly. It isn’t going to happen for me. The abusers, my parents, and siblings ruined it for me to be intimate with anyone. When I am close to anyone physically, I feel like a failure. My body takes control and shuts down. It will not open up again. The only way to have sex with me is to force yourself on me. And then you need to force me to do what you want.

It is driving me quite mad. All of this mess. I just want to die. I feel it more strongly every moment I have an opportunity to think. I try to stop myself from thinking. To stop my feelings. Screaming comes to mind. The worse thing is starting to happen, the confusion is beginning to take over my psyche. In this state, everything, everyone, everywhere feels  dangerous. Now this sense of danger surrounds me. My thoughts call out with words, ‘Please, just hold me Jamie. Where is Scottie. I need Scottie too. And Alison. I need her to be close now. I need to know no one else is in danger.’ My mind can’t think of anything but feeling threatened. There is no one I can trust. Those people touched us in places without our permission. I never wanted any of it. I hate sex with men. I hate sex with anyone. I hate being used for sex. Being forced to have sex. Having sex feel so destructive. It is an invasion of intimacy when it is not wanted and never wanted from those who force it on me.

What do you suppose it feels like when someone uses your body for their own pleasures, as if you didn’t exist except in the power they can overlord you with, knowing they can rape you anytime they want. Daytime. Nighttime. When you are asleep. Wherever you are. A molester can find you. They watch you. They know your schedule and your habits. Most of all they are uncanny at their ability to find you alone in a perfect place for them to force sex on you. Mostly, they just want to fuck you or fondle you. They take pictures of your body parts. You never feel safe. Threats are always made. Be quiet. Tell no one. Or die.

I needed to get this out. What I am feeling? Am I going mad from all of this turmoil? A darkness is coming. A depression like weighted pockets and walking into the sea to drown. Except I am afraid to drown, not to die. Let me die wiped clean of these memories of Hell and Evil. Before I die, I want to know what it feels like to be loved for who I am, not by someone who wants to kidnap my body for their own games and sadistic pleasures. There isn’t satisfaction in any of this, only nightmares.

I will send this off to you Annie so you know what is developing. Last point I will add. I am in danger from myself. It is close to hiding sharp objects and extra pills. But I won’t do that. Just in case I need to go away forever.

So sorry Annie that I feel this way. Even you won’t be able to bring me back from this mess inside my head. My body is ruined. I want to get rid of it so no else can touch it again without my permission. It is wrong to touch anyone who says no. No more wrong again touches.

Love You Annie. Please don’t ever leave me.
Madison

@-;—

© madison taylor 2008

tree sun moon swirl painitng

Artist Alexander Segregio

Somewhere In Time – Composer John Barry

Pink Flower by Tom Bradshaw 2013

Pink Flower by Tom Bradshaw 2013

“A Dream
The beginning always starts out
With a dream.
It is all a dream
In our own nightmares”
— Madison Taylor

Le Chateau de Rocher

Le Chateau de Rocher is Madison & Scottie’s Home

play is not just play meryl streep“Pretending is not just play. Pretending is imagined possibility” — Meryl Streep

Medicalmarijuana red cross marijuana leaf black bgMedical Marijuana

Private Moments #52: In the Dark Whispers Calling

private moments in paintings & poetry
In the Dark Whispers Calling
Poem by Jennifer Kiley
Painting by Jk McCormack
Post Created 23rd February 2014
Posted On Monday 10th March 2014
PRIVATE MOMENTS: PAINTINGS & POETRY

Private Writings: Chapter #52 — Waiting for the Fall

Winding Spirits by Madison Taylor (c) jKm 2008

Whispering Spirits by Madison Taylor (c) jKm 2008

“For that fine madness still he did retain,
Which rightly should possess a poet’s brain.”
~Michael Drayton~
(1563-1631)

hands reaching out into rain

In the Dark Whispers Calling
By Madison Taylor
2nd September 2008

Whispers in shy talk
Soundless in secrets
Holding in safety
Protecting the guilty

Not one can say no
Every time asked
Do you love her?
It is a crime of death

Eyes in your body
Drew her eyes to your own
Gazing beyond the moment
Cursed three in one

Death done slowly
Realizing her touch
Will be gone
Taken forever away

Unbearable to lose
Life fell from grace
Wanting it to cease
Vanquishing all dreams

Over away land is far
Traveling tiring to rest
Awakening to nothing
Building inside the mind

© Madison Taylor 2008

candle flame flickering gif

Maze

garden waterfall private gazebo overgrown 4pmip&p “Doorway to a Place of Enchantment”

* * * * * * *

“Creating is having the courage
to allow the seer into the private
moments of our imaginative lives.”
— JkM the secret keeper
aka Jennifer Kiley McCormack

* * * * * * *

A Writer’s Diary: Virginia Woolf — Part #2

a writer's diary
Virginia Woolf — Part #2
Excerpts from Virginia Woolf
Created by Jennifer Kiley
Created DATE 2014
Posted Sunday 9th March 2014
A WRITER’S DIARY

Virginia Woolf 1

Virginia Woolf

A Writer’s Diary 
Virginia Woolf – Part #2

Leonard Woolf
Virginia’s husband
Writes
In the introduction
To
A Writer’s Diary

The diary is too personal
To be published as a whole
During the lifetime
Of many people
Referred to in it.

It is
I think
Nearly always a mistake
To publish extracts
From diaries or letters

Particularly
If the omissions
Have to be made
In order to protect
The feelings
Or reputations
Of the living.

The omissions
Almost always distort
Or conceal
The true character
Of the diarist
Or letter-writer

And produce
Spiritually
What an Academy picture
Does materially

Smoothing out
The wrinkles
Warts
Frowns
And asperities.

At the best
And even unexpurgated
Diaries give a distorted
Or one-sided portrait
Of the writer

Because

As Virginia Woolf
Herself remarks

Somewhere
In these diaries

One gets
Into the habit
Of recording
One particular
Kind of mood

Irritation
Or misery,
Say

And of not
Writing one’s diary
When one is feeling
The opposite.

The portrait is
Therefore
From the start
Unbalanced

And
If someone
Then deliberately
Removes
Another characteristic

It may well
Become
A mere
Caricature.

— Leonard Woolf
[Virginia's Husband]

Virginia Woolf's Monk's House Garden

Virginia Woolf’s Monk’s House Garden

virginia woolf 3

Virginia Woolf

Erik Satie: Gnossienne No. 1, 2, 3

Private Writings: Chapter #44 — Secrets and Signs

private writings to a psychoanalyst (c) Jk 2013

Private Writings: Chapter #44 — Secrets and Signs

Written by Jennifer Kiley
Illustrated by j. kiley
Introduction & Chapter #1
Published on March 19th 2013
Published Early Tuesday AM
Posted 21st January 2014

WARNING: ADULT LANGUAGE AND CONTENT.

NOT SUITABLE FOR CHILDREN.
ALL CHARACTERS ARE FICTITIOUS.

ANYONE RESEMBLING ANYONE LIVING OR DEAD
IS PURELY COINCIDENTAL.

Crypticistic Synopsis:

private writings to dr. annie haskell,
psychoanalyst extraordinaire,
storytelling using letters, dreams, thoughts, poems, images,
music, art, scripts, psychotherapy, psychoanalysis,
inspirations, reflective comments, inner/outer workings
mind, soul, body, emotions, bipolar, mentally creative, interesting,
brain misfiring; abuse, crashes, near drownings,
hallucinations, heightened sexuality, time warps,
finding answers, unsolved mysteries, infatuations,
imagination, fantasy, discover self, soul, eternal serenity, bliss

see you down the rabbit hole.
namaste! madison taylor

Private Writings: Chapter #44 — Secrets and Signs

Tuesday 15th July 2008

Dear Annie,

I want to talk about my feelings for you. It never seems convenient for me to be open with you. What I feel, is something I don’t understand. No one ever taught me what love is. Love has been mixed up inside my head. It makes me feel I am bad for feeling love.

The truth. I was abused growing up. My family’s incest was sexual, sadistic and emotional abuse. Their white painted mansion was the playground for their sinder girl. Don’t know respect. She needs to learn she is nothing. A place I was the center of the abuse. That’s what I called home. I didn’t think of it that way. Not a place of love and nurturing for me. Every horrible experience I felt as a child happened in that place of horror. It wasn’t safe anywhere inside that house. Taking walks in the woods was dangerous. Our grounds were extensive. Someone seemed always to be watching me. Eventually they always found me. And I would be alone and vulnerable.

My father used me to get his friends to do him favors. I was their reward. They just took me away. One man, I remember someone calling him something official. Held a government position, and he was a child molester and rapist. That was dangerous. One of the times I was alone with him. He had started touching me. His hand felt like needles were piercing my skin. I wanted him to stop. My hand pushed his away. We even spoke out loud. “Please don’t touch me or I will tell.” A thought I had tried before without the threat of telling. Telling made it more dangerous. This brought on convincing threats of, “I’ll kill your family if you say a word.” His words were not a lie. He showed me by trying to kill me in that very moment. He stopped himself before he went to far but his eyes told me, he would kill them, and probably me too. No, he would definitely have me killed.

What could I do. Keep silent. No one ever talked about it. It felt like I was alone. No one else. It wasn’t happening to anyone else. They would feel I was worthless and contaminated. No one would care about me. No one does now. I will just leave everyone out of this. I am too embarrassed to say a word. Too ashamed.

I am living surrounded by abusers or the abused? Yes, I had another sibling who did not escape. He is locked up and catatonic now. The only time he is not catatonic is when all he can do is scream my name out that he wants to kill me. I am his betrayer. No idea why he thinks I betrayed him. All my life I have tried to protect him. It was all a secret. One day he blurted out, our oldest brother fucked him when he was little. I was fragile when he told me this. It made me freak out.

I turned to a female friend I had a crush on. She tried to help. But she had depressing news, to me it was. Why in that moment? Her boyfriend proposed to her. They were going to get married right away. It meant her moving away. I was struck by the deepest depression. She did move away after the wedding. Gone. I lost her. She was my first friend. She was the first person I told about the abuse. Not the whole nightmare. Just I had been abused. No one can handle the while thing. I can’t even handle it. Overload.

My friend was gone. I had no more focus. She kept me alive by being my friend. I loved her. She was the only person I could love. I thought she loved me enough to want to stay in my life. But she didn’t. My depression made me believe everything was over. I was despondent. I lost all reason to live. There was no one left to love. It was when I thought about my bottle of pills.

I sat on the edge of my bed. Taking the open bottle of pills, I poured out the content, a handful at a time. The darkness was pulling me deeper inside of it. The music was playing softly. Soon I would be asleep forever. Would my friend miss me if I were dead. The letter I wrote to her was about love. In the letter I wrote to my mother, I told her she finally got what she wanted. Me. Dead.

My head felt heavy as I lay down at the foot of my bed. All the pills were gone. Sleep felt like it was pulling me in. My mind was filled with the friend I loved. We were only teenagers. Who ends their life so early? Life was destroying me. Being alive without her was unthinkable, to painful, impossible. It was almost over. I was nearing the end of pain.

As you can see I am writing to you now. It was difficult but somehow I stopped the process from concluding. No one helped me back from that edge. I saved myself alone. No one ever knew. Just one more secret. My suicide attempt gave me the courage to seek out professional help. It was right after that night. I live with the thoughts of suicide too frequently. It runs through my mind and my life like a shadow of temptation. More the thinking about it then the doing now.

Lets change this up and take it to a totally different place. Back to my feelings about love. I know you know what love is. You make me feel it whenever I am around you. The words you say to me. I feel your love. No one has ever been as kind to me as you. What is important is I don’t know what I would do without you if you ever disappeared. It would crush me inside. I would want to die.

I see the words I use and wonder whether I can trust you not to be afraid of my feelings of love. If I told you I love you, would it make you want to run away? I fear the worse.

If you really knew what goes on inside of me, it’s the sound of confusion. Being bipolar for a long time has messed with my life. Awhile ago, I had a therapist and psychiatrist diagnose me with DID. It was a fucked up diagnosis I lived with for years. She even wanted me to name my alters and describe their characteristics. It was a curious perspective from which to think about myself. I really did split apart with the diagnosis. Was it thinking I had DID that caused the transformation? Or did I always have alters and worked through the phases and went through integration. I am not at all sure.

Sybill, the film with Sally Fields and Joanne Woodward, made me want her doctor. Being held and believed. To feel her arms around me and her eyes comforting me. This leads me to the truth. Truth is important to me. I don’t lie. There’s no sense to it. Simply put, I want you, Annie. To be like her doctor. If I could return to being a little girl again, with you. You could be the person who cared for me. It would feel more perfect then I could expect. It would make the world right for me. Is it possible for you to love me?

I better stop now. There is much more but I will save it for the next letter. Right now I am worried what I have already asked you in this letter. Is it going to make you feel angry or uncomfortable, or is it going to make you go away? Will you go away? Please don’t. I’m feeling a strong urge not to show you this letter. Maybe if I express myself in a poem and paint what I feel instead. It is more abstract. It may make more sense. Being understood is an obsession.

“Time for time and traveling with circuses must end. It is time to soar through the time barrier into all moments in the Universe.”

So, until I see you, I end with my favorite quote from the film Brief Sacrifice.

“Time can be folded and joined with all elements in all places as the one ultimate moment when time is all at once. In this place everything happens on a continual loop following into a continuum of time forever into infinity. In the “Silver Box,” there is contained the ability to draw time into itself and create the perfect infinite moment.”

I end this letter in “the moment between seconds.”

Loving You Fondly,

Madison

@-;—

© madison taylor 2008

Bejin - Artist David Agenjo

Bejin – Artist David Agenjo

Somewhere In Time – John Barry

Bouquet of Roses and other Flowers - Artist Henri Fantin Latour

Bouquet of Roses and other Flowers – Artist Henri Fantin Latour

rain in garden gif

Shattered Love
By Madison Taylor
8th July 2008
Narrative Haiku

Shattered love breaks hearts
Are bleeding out on the ground
Why do I not cry?

Feelings have been crushed
Inside pain reflects harming
Take your hands off me

Skin feels bruises swell
Carving time on flesh burning
Memories remain

Giving birth no love
Start with hate never caring
Nurture not given

Meet an attraction
Is it love or sexual
Healing the inside

Touching with lightness
Need a gentle hand soothing
Trust is taming wild

One stroke of the hand
Is enough to begin love
Learning soft teaching

© madison taylor 2008

Illuminating Shadows - Artist Jk McCormack (c) JkM 2008

Illuminating Shadows – Artist Jk McCormack (c) JkM 2007

“A Dream
The beginning always starts out
With a dream.
It is all a dream
In our own nightmares”
— Madison Taylor

Le Chateau de Rocher

Le Chateau de Rocher

play is not just play meryl streep“Pretending is not just play. Pretending is imagined possibility” — Meryl Streep

Medicalmarijuana red cross marijuana leaf black bgMedical Marijuana

I Believe

OLYMPUS DIGITAL CAMERA
I Believe
Written by Jennifer Kiley
Painting by Jk McCormack
Created 11th January 2014
Posted Saturday 11th January 2014
POETRY IN TONE

I Believe
By Jennifer Kiley
11th January 2014

I believe.
I believe in you.
I believe in art.
I believe in love.
I believe in imagination.
I don’t so much believe in reality.

I am more into fantasy.
What one imagines
Becomes real.

Yet,
Isn’t imagination
Something we create
From out of our dreams
And fantasies?

You are real
But also feel
Like the best part
Of my imagi-nation.

You give me
Such gifts
In your words.
Stating their reality.

If all becomes
A dream,
One after the other,
Or always
Was a dream,
And we continue on
Through our dream world.

Who decides
When to
Change it?

Loving to create.
Imagining something tangible
In my mind
And placing it
Before me.

Trusting others
To share it.
To be kind.

Trusting myself
To know
When it is complete,
Or when it is time again

Something new
Might be created.
The creating is
Not known
Until complete

And even then
May continue on
Into a new form.

Creating.
Knowing
When the time
Is now.

Keeping
The sense of the real
Alive
And
Remembered.

The fine line
Ravels on
Its own.

I think the pain
We feel
Are memories
Of being opened up
To waking nightmares.

To torturers
Who find
A weakness
In the flesh
And leave
A lasting
Memory.

One
Of those
Memories
That last too long
Beyond forever.

The side that feeds
Creativity,
Is the Muse,
Who becomes
The filter,
Deciphering
What to let through
And at what place
In time
For something
To be revealed.

In your own
Special way,
You have helped
Giving guidance
Touching down into
A safe landing.

The veil
Is being lifted
The sight
Of a vision
Streaming
Through the mesh

When it finds
A receptive being
To listen,
Hear, see,
Absorb, interpret,
Recreate in their own vision
And express it freely,
As it wants to appear.

It guides us
Somewhere
Within the mind.

Sleep is calling.
In sleep
We meet many
New things,
New happenings.
Ways of communicating
Within states of mind
Not in our control.

When asleep,
Don’t we give away
Our control?

Trust sleep?
Trusting sleep,
Is that safe?

What does
Sleep do
To any of us?

Do we know
Where we go
And can anything
We dream
Take us away
From our life?

A curious response.
Will read after I wake up.
Love to know what I write
After I am awake again.

© JkM 2014

love leaning - artist jk mccormack (c) JkM 2014

Love’s Ripple Dreaming – Artist Jk McCormack (c) JkM 2014

HAPPY NEW YEAR 2014!!!

HAPPY NEW YEAR 2014!!!

From The MACKENZIE-KILEY CLAN IN SOUTHERN NEW ENGLAND

New-years-eve-2 champagne glasses full happy new year ADD YEAR BELOW

new_years eve sydney oz

New Year’s Even in OZ

new-year eve big ben & golden fire works

New Year’s Eve Big Ben & Golden Fireworks

mackenzie-kiley clan happy new year 2014


Auld Lang Syne – Lea Michele

Auld Lang Syne
Sung by Lea Michele

Should old acquaintance be forgot
And never brought to mind
Should all acquaintance be forgot
And auld lang syne

For auld lang syne, my dear,
For auld lang syne,
We’ll take a cup o’ kindness yet,
For auld lang syne

And surely you will buy your cup
And surely I’ll buy mine
And we’ll take a cup o’ kindness yet
For auld lang syne

We too have run around the slopes
And picked the daisies fine
We’ve londoned many weary foot
Since auld lang syne

For auld lang syne, my dear,
For auld lang syne,
We’ll take a cup o’ kindness yet,
For auld lang syne

We too have paddled in the stream
From morning sun to night
But the seas between us broad have roared
From auld lang syne

For auld lang syne, my dear,
For auld lang syne,
We’ll take a cup o’ kindness yet,
For auld lang syne
We’ll take a cup o’ kindness yet
For auld lang syne

bubbles grounded

Happy-New-Year ADD 2014

new-years-eve 2014

Amazing Visions: Bells Spheres Fountains of Dancing Colours

amazing visions
Amazing Visions: Bells Spheres Fountains of Dancing Colours
Post Created by Jk the secret keeper
Vimeo Videos Discovered by j. kiley
Post Created on Thursday 9th November 2013
Posted on Wednesday 20th November 2013
AMAZING VISIONS

Bells Music Video – Stuart Sinclair Animation
["It's 2001 meets Gravity." {the film} Jk]

Music : Suns facebook.com/sunsofficial

In the Summer of 2013 Suns approached me with the idea of developing a music video for their track ‘Bells’ and upon listening to the track -which I loved- I immediately had thoughts of an astronaut travelling alone through space. With this initial image in mind I began experimenting with various visual effects using After Effects.

I used two AE plugins: Plexus 2.0 and Trapcode Form, I started to develop my ideas which involved generating the thin line aesthetic and dots that I was after. The majority of the 3D models used in the video are based on real objects from Space; the Hubble Space Telescope, Progress and Voyager 1. The planets and moons in the video are generated using NASA imagery, and helped to create a formal aspect to an otherwise abstract piece. Once I’d settled on the visual look for the piece, I began to think about how the structure will be developed in relation to the journey of the astronaut and the emotion of the track.

* * * * * * *

Spherikal

From Ion Plus 1 year ago
Not Yet Rated

This is a small animation i did as an exercise to experiment and explore all the graphical possibilities of representing the idea of the SPHERE, always thinking in searching Gestalt and form. Its all done in 3d, but i was more interested in the graphical interest, flatten the surfaces, and only two colors, why more.The most difficult was to achieve the transitions between the different type of representation of the sphere, the morphing and metamorphosing.

For the description of the project, all these frames plus the frames from the scenes that weren’t included, visit – behance.net/gallery/Spherikal/3565597

It was all done in Cinema 4d R13, all with the Mograph module. Comositing and post in After Effects

Sound : Brand X Music

* * * * * * *

Advection – Robert Seidel – Projection on a Water Fountain

Artist Statement
The work advection consists of several visual études projected on the continuously changing volume of a water fountain. Interconnected with both the circadian rhythm of their natural surroundings as well as the meteorological nuances of seasonal change from autumn to winter – the fixed études alter their density, texture and luminescence over the exhibition time.

This highly organic pictorial frame spawns a contemporary form of moving abstract paintings or associative drawings. The volumetric fountain, the pond reflections and iridescent flares shape a plasmatic spatial system, which is extended by a secondary video projection. This additional layer illuminates the surrounding area, integrating vegetation and the passing visitors into an abstracted mirage-stage.

Here, twining lines change their density within the evolving volume as fragile light patterns float in the bank of fog. The skeletal music composition is augmented by the sound of rippling water and the rushing fountain. Ultimately flickering projection segments and the emerging natural airstreams break the fluctuating formations, making every loop a unique permutation.

Credits
Artwork Robert Seidel _ robertseidel.com
Music David Kamp _ davidkamp.de