Private Writings: Chapter #55 – It’s Wrong for the Right Reasons

private writings to a psychoanalyst (c) Jk 2013

Private Writings: Chapter #55 – It’s Wrong for the Right Reasons

Written by Jennifer Kiley
Painting by NAME OF ARTIST
Introduction & Chapter #1
Published on March 19th 2013
Published Early Tuesday AM
Posted On Tuesday 1st 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 to most importantly
tell the best tale ever after upon a time

see you down the rabbit hole.

Private Writings: Chapter #55 — It’s Wrong for the Right Reasons

Tuesday 23rd September 2008

Dear Annie,

I told you last week I would tell you about my grandmother. She was so special to me. My real fairy godmother was my grandmother. She gave me a nickname I love so much. Mandy is that nickname my grandmother gave me when I was little. She would sit me in her lap and tell me how much she loved her sweet sweet granddaughter Mandy. I was her baby girl. She was the only one who loved me when I was a child. And the only person who did not abuse me in some way. Her hugs were the best in the world. Before she left me, she tried to prepare me for her death. I told her she was never going to die. Death wasn’t something I understood at that time. I never knew anyone who died. Death did not feel like it was a part of my world. She had an awful accident falling down the stairs. In the hospital, she had broken her hip and from her inability to move, she developed pneumonia.

I was too young to visit her by myself and my horrible parents did nothing to take any of us to see her. She was lost to me. I didn’t understand how to communicate with her. I was confused. Then the news came through my grandmother was going to go into a nursing facility to recover. She told me many times she would never ever go into one of them. I don’t even understand why they would tell her such a thing. My grandmother was filthy rich. She could afford to be taken home and receive plenty of care. But no, my parents and my mother’s uncle, the one who abused me, weren’t going to give my grandmother the peace of mind to do what she wanted. Later that same day, I heard my mother scream this awful sound. I ran to where she was. My awful mother was crying. Struggling to get the words out, she told me my grandmother was dead. I was so young, all I could feel was stunned.

The safest person in the world to me, the only person I loved and who loved me, she was gone. She was dead. My grandmother was dead. The last time I saw her alive, I was hugging her. I lay on her bed next to her and we snuggled as close as the pain would allow. It was the best snuggle in the world. I told my granma “I love you.” I think I kept on saying it as they were trying to pull me away from her. She didn’t want to let go either this time. The parents were always trying to pull us apart. When I would hold her in a full arm hug just before it was time to leave her home, the parents had to pry us apart then, too. I knew if I let go, I would have to go back to hell. All I wanted was my grandmother to keep me with her.  Now she was dead. That is the last time I saw her, when she was dead lying in her coffin. I kissed her on the forehead. She wasn’t there. It was the first time I cried after she died. When I could see she wasn’t just someplace else, she was dead and I would never hug her again or feel her hug me, holding on tight, trying to protect me from what she never knew. I never told her about any of the abuse that was going on. I didn’t want it to spoil our relationship.

Now I have lost far too many people since my grandmother’s death. People I loved, who were too young to die but they died anyway. In all the unfairness of life, killing people when they are young is the cruelest elements of life. Death freaks me out except when I am feeling suicidal. Then I crave it. I want it. I want death to take me. It is that simple. That is why I took those pills. I miss all the women in my life who I loved and now they are dead. I feel such a deep capacity to feel intense emotional feelings. When I love, I love intensely. And I am talking about Love not sex. Sex is not meant to be something I can experience with another person. The abusers stole that from me, the ability to feel love and sexual attraction together. It doesn’t work for me. What I am able to do is love passionately but not love if it has anything to do with being sexual. Loving passionately for me is to feel my emotions of love very intensely and deeply. It is the purist kind of love I know. Love being Love. The way I feel for Scottie. She understands me. Her generosity of support is what was keeping me alive for so long.

No one can keep you alive if you don’t want to be. Tosh has been around. Her spirit is watching over me. She has visited me here. We have spent a great amount of time talking. Sorting out why she had to die so young. I’ve never gotten over losing her. But she is with me now, so I am not alone.  As for the rest of everyone here, no one seems like anyone I want to relate to. But it may just be too soon. As I said, I do like my shrink. I just want to see you, Annie. I need lots of your hugs to help me make it through.

Why do people misunderstand love and hugs and saying “I love you?” That crushes me more than anything else. My heart feels like it has been crushed. The weight on my chest and the difficulty I have breathing makes me feel like I am dying. Am I ready to die? Part of me was ready to go before Jamie found me. Do I still want to die? I am not sure. When I think about it strongly enough, I would have to say yes. Yes, I still want to die. If I say that to my Doctor, I will be staying here way too long. So help me work something out, so I can get out of here. Most of all, I miss my cats, Alison, Scottie, and you. And I want to go home. I miss my home.

Help me get out of here. I know I am sounding like I am on the mania train but we can work on getting my suicidal depression back in line. You just need to snap me out of twirling around inside my brain. I’m drowning here. I surely will if I don’t get some relief from strangers. Unlike Blanche Dubois, “I do not depend upon the kindness of strangers.” Friends are just strangers in disguise. They aren’t really there to bond with you, they just want what they need but disguise it as love and caring but in reality they are stealing all your good energy for themselves and leave you starving to death. But they don’t care or give a fuck.

Well, fuck them if they can be so cruel to abandon you when you most need them. Fuck her. Who “her” is, is the $5 Billion Dollar Q & A. Name anyone and I would say they have contributed to my surrender. Living in secret. Living in fear of living. Living in fear of loving. Living in fear of Life. Living in fear of Trust stolen from me so many times in the Sacrifice. Living in fear of Death but only when Death is a threat. When it is sweet, sweet like the feelings of the deepest and darkest depression carrying me as though in a coffin through the rocking finality of death. The finality of Death is Living. But when I try to take the living out of my own self and enter Death without being called to it properly causes all sorts of people to get all weird and concerned. When truthfully no one gives a shit.

When we die, we are just gone. Only the tender few, like myself, love that deeply, when we feel death stealing us away. For the young who die, it is the last high carrying us closer to the other side. Each high brings us a shade too close to the thinning edge. I feel when we rip our body away from our soul someone has to help us through the pain after death. First figuring out where we are when we realize, “This isn’t Earth any longer. Nor is it OZ. It is filled with darkness. We can see our spirit but nothing else is visible. This is after we first leave our body. How long this period lasts, it’s impossible to measure without the existence of time. It is all for what? I thought maybe it was all for Love.

I’m exhausted. So that is all I have for now. I feel close to sane but on the edge of madness. Let me repeat my usual closing. It will make things appear to be as usual. I will see you soon. I must.

That’s all for now.

“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.”
Love Fondly,

Madison

© Madison Taylor 2008

acrylic_fluid_painting_61_by_mark_chadwick

Acrylic Fluid Painting 61 by Mark Chapwick

Somewhere In Time – Composer John Barry

robert-mapplethorpe_15 multiple tiger orchids bluish purple bg

“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

A Heartfelt Goodbye To Virginia Woolf 73 Years Later

the-living-word make the writer's diary

The Living Word

A Heartfelt Goodbye to Virginia Woolf 73 Years Later
25 January 1882 – 28 March 1941
Created by Jennifer Kiley
Created 23rd March 2014
Posted Friday 28th March 2014
A TRIBUTE TO VIRGINIA WOOLF

virginia woolf a writer's life quote over photo“You cannot find peace by avoiding life.”

“Books are the mirrors of the soul.”

I can only note that the past is beautiful
because one never realises an emotion at the time.
It expands later, and thus we don’t have complete
emotions about the present, only about the past.”

“The eyes of others our prisons; their thoughts our cages.”

“Love, the poet said, is woman’s whole existence.”

“The truth is, I often like women. I like their
unconventionality. I like their completeness. I
like their anonymity. ”

“I thought how unpleasant it is to be locked out; and
I thought how it is worse, perhaps, to be locked in.”

“All extremes of feeling are allied with madness.”

“For it would seem – her case proved it – that we
write, not with the fingers, but with the whole
person. The nerve which controls the pen winds
itself about every fibre of our being, threads
the heart, pierces the liver.”

“I am reading six books at once, the only way of
reading; since, as you will agree, one book is
only a single unaccompanied note, and to get the
full sound, one needs ten others at the same time.”

“So long as you write what you wish to write, that
is all that matters; and whether it matters for
ages or only for hours, nobody can say.”

“When I cannot see words curling like rings of
smoke round me I am in darkness—I am nothing.”

“It is in our idleness, in our dreams, that the sub-
merged truth sometimes makes its way to the surface.”

“For now she need not think of anybody. She could be
herself, by herself. And that was what now she often
felt the need of – to think; well not even to think.
To be silent; to be alone. All the being and the doing,
expansive, glittering, vocal, evaporated; and one shrunk,
with a sense of solemnity, to being oneself, a wedge-
shaped core of darkness, something invisible to others…
and this self having shed its attachments was free for
the strangest adventures.”

“Fiction is like a spider’s web, attached ever so lightly
perhaps, but still attached to life at all four corners.”

“Was not writing poetry a secret transaction, a voice
answering a voice?”

“Let us again pretend that life is a solid substance,
shaped like a globe, which we turn about in our fingers.
Let us pretend that we can make out a plain and logical
story, so that when one matter is despatched—love for
instance—we go on, in an orderly manner, to the next.”

“The only advice, indeed, that one person can give another
about reading is to take no advice, to follow your own
instincts, to use your own reason, to come to your own
conclusions. If this is agreed between us, then I feel at
liberty to put forward a few ideas and suggestions because
you will not allow them to fetter that independence which
is the most important quality that a reader can possess.
After all, what laws can be laid down about books? The
battle of Waterloo was certainly fought on a certain day;
but is Hamlet a better play than Lear? Nobody can say.
Each must decide that question for himself. To admit
authorities, however heavily furred and gowned, into our
libraries and let them tell us how to read, what to read,
what value to place upon what we read, is to destroy the
spirit of freedom which is the breath of those sanctuaries.
Everywhere else we may be bound by laws and conventions-
there we have none.”

“The most extraordinary thing about writing is that
when you’ve struck the right vein, tiredness goes.”

“…who shall measure the heat and violence of a poet’s
heart when caught and tangled in a woman’s body?”

“I feel so intensely the delights of shutting oneself
up in a little world of one’s own, with pictures and
music and everything beautiful.”

“By the truth we are undone. Life is a dream. ‘Tis the
waking that kills us. He who robs us of our dreams robs
us of our life.”

— Virginia Woolf [from Her Books & Diaries]

virginia & leonard woolf 1939 National Photo Gallery London 'the dinner party' virginia woolf

Virginia & Leonard Woolf 1939
National Photo Gallery London
The Dinner Party: Virginia Woolf

Virginia Woolf’s Handwritten Suicide Note to Her Husband Leonard: A Painful & Poignant Farewell [1941]

Dearest, I feel certain that I am going mad again. I feel we can’t go through another of those terrible times. And I shan’t recover this time. I begin to hear voices, and I can’t concentrate. So I am doing what seems the best thing to do. You have given me the greatest possible happiness. You have been in every way all that anyone could be. I don’t think two people could have been happier ’til this terrible disease came. I can’t fight any longer. I know that I am spoiling your life, that without me you could work. And you will I know. You see I can’t even write this properly. I can’t read. What I want to say is I owe all the happiness of my life to you. You have been entirely patient with me and incredibly good. I want to say that—everybody knows it. If anybody could have saved me it would have been you. Everything has gone from me but the certainty of your goodness. I can’t go on spoiling your life any longer. I don’t think two people could have been happier than we have been. V.

virginia woolf's monk's house garden

Virginia Woolf’s Monk’s House Garden

Leonard buried Virginia’s ashes under the two intertwined Elm trees in their backyard at Monk’s House, their summer home in Sussex. The Elm trees in which they had nicknamed “Virginia and Leonard,” the spot was marked with a stone tablet engraved with the last lines from her novel The Waves: “Against you I fling myself, unvanquished and unyielding, O Death! The waves crashed on the shore.” After Leonard Woolf died on August 14, 1969, he was cremated and his ashes were buried next to Virginia’s under the Elm Trees at Monk’s House.

The following piece of music composed by Beethoven was to be the music played at Virginia Woolf’s and Leonard Woolf’s cremation ceremony. Leonard was so filled with grief, another piece of music was played but when he was home, he played Beethoven: String Quartet Op. 130. V. Cantina: adagio molto expressivo. It is most beautiful and soothing piece of music. I understand why Virginia and Leonard Woolf chose this piece of music. It is beautiful. It gives me a sense of being with Virginia Woolf who I admire with a fullness in my heart. She has touched my soul with her words. Her essence is alive within them. Thank you for giving so much of yourself to us in your writing with such a depth of honesty and Truth. You are not forgotten.

— Jennifer Kiley

Virginia Woolf

Peace For You Virginia Woolf

Beethoven: String Quartet Op. 130: V. Cavatina: adagio molto expressivo

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

Poetry as Therapy

tell me a story
Poetry as Therapy
TED Talk Speaker Rachel McKibbens
Notations by Jennifer Kiley
Created Post 2nd August 2013
Posted on Thursday 12th December 2013
TELL ME A STORY

A completely intense experience listening to the rawness and honesty of Rachel McKibbons speak from her own depth of emotion. Her TEDTalk is emotionally moving. In the second video, Rachel reads her poem “Last Love,” once again extremely intense, disturbing and spellbinding in her tremulous voice. She is direct with the honesty of her words and her vulnerability. The subject matter is on a level that has a potential to be triggering for some people. Rachel holds no emotion back nor subject matter.

Poetry as Therapy – Rachel McKibbens – TEDTalks

Rachel combines her personal story with the spoken word of her poetry. She explains how the practice of sharing written words aloud in an environment of safety, encouragement and support is an invaluable, cathartic experience of emotional and intellectual re-framing.

I do this in my own writing. With poetry, there are so many styles to choose from in which to express what one is feeling. Many times I have worked through depressions that contained feelings so dark, I did feel suicidal. For some reason, recently, I am not going to question it, but I have not been feeling suicidal or depressed.

My health has been in question, which was making me feel very ill and exhausted. I am now on the mend from my latest surgery. It doesn’t hold back the writing. Writing is my savior and what keeps me alive. Art and creating or finding something one cares for passionately, is important to keep one connected to the vitality of life.

Listen further to Rachel. Also, think about something you would like to do to keep the inside of your life alive and wanting to live and thrive.

Rachel McKibbens performs “Last Love”

Rachel McKibbens is the 2009 Women of the World poetry slam champion, is an eight-time National Poetry Slam team member, a three-time NPS finalist, and a 2007 New York Foundation for the Arts poetry fellow and Pushcart nominee. For four years, she co-curated the award-winning louder ARTS Project reading series in New York City, coaching their poetry slam team to three consecutive National Poetry Slam final stages.

Poetry as Therapy. I highly recommend for anyone with an interest, as I recommend it for my own self to feel able to express poetry as a central part of my own life.

Private Writings: Chapter #31 — New World Sympathy

private writings to a psychoanalyst (c) Jk 2013

Private Writings: Chapter #31 — New World Sympathy
Written by Jennifer Kiley
Illustrated by j. kiley
Introduction & Chapter #1
Published on March 19th 2013
Published Early Tuesday AM
Posted On Tuesday 22nd October 2013

WARNING: ADULT LANGUAGE AND CONTENT.
NOT SUITABLE FOR CHILDREN.

ALL CHARACTERS ARE FICTITIOUS.
ANYONE RESEMBLING ANYONE LIVING OR DEAD
IS PURELY COINCIDENTAL.

Crypticistic Synopsis:

I am writing to Dr. Annie Haskell. My form of storytelling is through
letters containing dreams, thoughts, poems, music, describing my script
“Brief Sacrifice,” already made into a film but not yet released, psycho-
therapy, inspirations, reflective comments, the inner workings of the mind,
soul, body, emotions, and bipolar. I prefer mentally creative, interesting, or
having a brain misfiring. Included in the mix are childhood abuse, car crashes,
near drownings, drugs [the illegal kind at present], hallucinations, hypersexuality,
time warps, finding answers to unsolved mysteries, infatuation, imagination, fantasy,
and a need to discover my bliss.

See you inside.
Namaste! Madison Taylor

Private Writings: Chapter #31 — New World Sympathy

Tuesday, 15th April 2008

Dear Annie,

I needed to concentrate on something specific this week but never got to tell you. In this letter, I will write it down, so next week we can get into detail about what I am feeling. Taking off to Paris, France with Scottie in a few weeks, so she can begin shooting our new film. It is giving me a great deal of apprehension. You may want to talk to Scottie about what I am going to tell you. She doesn’t get what I am trying to say. If someone else talks to her, she may listen. It may feel like it is coming from someone she feels is being rational. In this situation, that is not how she feels I am coming across. I wrote down as clearly as possible, what we need to talk about.

First, it is okay to talk to Scottie about anything. She will tell you if it is alright with her or not. You can trust her to keep it confidential. It begins with her friendship with the actor, Hunter Marx, and the fact we don’t talk about her. Scottie told me she doesn’t want to get involved with what I feel regarding Hunter. I don’t think Scottie grasps the seriousness of what is going on. Since she doesn’t want to talk to me about Hunter, there is no way for me to explain to her how I am feeling. She thinks I am just being contrary when I say anything. Scottie has no idea how serious Hunter affected me in the past. How much damage Hunter did to my being able to trust. For me, it is better to talk to you, Annie or my friend Jonathan. I feel safer keeping what I feel from Scottie.

Recently, Scottie had a conversation with Hunter. I woke up hearing Scottie’s voice. Realizing she was talking to someone, I couldn’t help but overhear part of what Scottie was saying. She was telling Hunter about me regarding my habit of ending relationships when I feel hurt. She said, I end things abruptly and cold. This made me feel hurt and betrayed she would tell Hunter this. Especially, after the way it blew up between Hunter and me. What Scottie doesn’t realize is that was me when we first met, I was younger, more naive, extremely trusting and much more gullible. I have since worked on my need to run away. I try to work things out now. But with Hunter, there wasn’t anything to work out. I tried reaching her but was rejected too many times to remember the count.

Hunter’s need for secrecy and extreme privacy, I never felt it was okay to really talk to Scottie about the relationship I had with Hunter. She made it perfectly clear no one was to know what was happening between us. She told me, she was afraid the press would find out and think she was a lesbian. You know what kind of relationships this kind of privacy reminds me of, an abusive one. Abusers don’t want you to tell anyone about them. Hunter didn’t want anyone to know the kind of manipulation that was happening.

Scottie has no idea what I did for Hunter to draw Scottie into her life. Scottie was trying to cast an important film and I felt manipulated into getting Scottie to take a closer look at Hunter. Scottie didn’t act terribly comfortable around Hunter, so, I stepped in to smooth the way. I, now feel she used me to get what she wanted from Scottie and I fell right into her trap and gave Scottie over to her on a “silver platter. Like a fucking idiot. Oh, so, clever Hunter was manipulating us both. And now Scottie can’t see the truth no matter how I try to explain it to her. She just won’t listen. Thinks I am just being contrary because of how I feel.

Let me try to explain it more clearly. Hunter controlled me. She owned me. It was her decision when we would have contact and when it would be cut off. I destroyed pages of a great script because she felt it sounded too much like I was writing about her. I became so upset. To me it was about what it felt like to be bipolar. I wanted the character to talk about what it felt like when she became delusional and had irrational thoughts. I blew up and lost it. She upset me so much that I destroyed the whole script. It was something I sweated pain to create. She had turned into my Svengali. When she first got to know me she pretended to like my honesty. Once she hooked me to her drug of choice, herself, we became what I felt were friends. One of her requirements, she wanted me to keep all that went on between us to myself. Suddenly, I had to be so secretive. No one could know we were close friends.

I don’t think I can go back to being any place where she is. Hunter became delusional. She started telling me I had betrayed her and that I was disloyal. She pushed me away with her accusations. They were all lies based on nothing. She was trying to make me doubt my writing. The ultimately, real insanity started when I starting making friends with another actor she used to call a friend. She told me I was betraying her by being friends with this actor and it had to stop. I felt that was going too far. She did that with a lot of people in the film industry with whom I was making new connections. It was necessary and part of developing our film production company, Scottie’s and mine, “Infinite Imaginations, Inc..

I never did drop any of the people she wanted me to. Why should I, she was being ridiculous and way beyond the boundaries of being too demanding. She may have been a rising star but I didn’t need her to connect with others in the film industry. My work was beginning to have a buzz developing around it and so was “Infinite Imaginations, Inc.” Scottie doesn’t get the fact Hunter used me to get to her. And after I took my control back and pushed her away, she did everything she could after that to hurt me, including the absurdity of trying to come between Scottie and me. Hunter learned quickly it wouldn’t work. Scottie and I were too strong together.

When I flash back and remember when I first started becoming friends with Hunter, Scottie told me I should be careful, a friend had warned her. I don’t know if Scottie has forgotten or Scottie is trying to be diplomatic but she has no idea the torture I felt throughout that friendship. I trust Scottie, but she will be having contact with Hunter again. She cast her in the lead for our new film. No title has been finalized. Is it possible for me to just be professional with her? I feel it is going to be very uncomfortable. She is the one who cut me off cold but I am the one who wanted it to remain that way. A closed book, let go without regrets.

When my friendship with Hunter started, I thought it would be one of those that would last. That was me feeling promise and being delusional. I was living a fantasy. The truth is, I always felt like I had no rights in the relationship. Always a sense I needed permission to even contact her. It is awful to examine an abusive relationship when you realize you didn’t even recognize it when it was happening. Hunter had to be in total control. I let her at the expense of my own sense of self. I was reliving how my own mother treated me. This might sound crazy, but the only time I felt delusional was when I was with her. Which makes me feel now, she was doing something bordering on voodoo that set off my irrational thoughts.

I don’t know if I should delete this or let you see what has been going on inside my mind all this time. It is only now coming to the surface. I am going to use these revelations in my writing. There has to be a way to release all this toxic muck that filled me with poison. How the hell could I have been so blind?

You are my therapist. This is the kind of thing I should trust you with. Who else can I talk to about this shit? How destructive have I allowed myself to be?

Now, my life seems to be moving on a rapid cycle of change, looking for a landing spot, and claim a space for psychological and emotional rest. Hope you can help me find peace before death comes to take me away. All I want is a modicum sense of security and well-being.

Fondly,
Madison

Ps. This week, we were supposed to talk about the invitation from Scottie to join her on her film making quest to Paris, France, to film her next film with the script I wrote for her. It is a romance, with a touch of the ghost. A light comedy, with a touch of the spirit world invading the party. That’s the title, it just came to me, “Touch of the Spirit.” Anyway, it is really important we work on getting me prepared to fly. It freaks me out. Leaving our home. Going over the Atlantic Ocean. We could crash. We could drown. I suppose, though, the crash would kill us first. That was stupid to say out loud. Knock on wood.

PPs. Also, I am sorry, I have been so nervous, I didn’t include anything about our film “Brief Sacrifice.” I will tell you in our session more of the adventure. It gets really exciting when James and Jackson Sharp connect psychically. The power between Jackson and James wakes up an unimaginable energy field. Wait til you see special effect. It is so charged up. A great vibration comes from within the “Silver Box.” It appears together, the two, a cat and a human, have cracked the code. Seams begin to show, revealing signs of a thin crack which encircles the “Silver Box.” By our next letter, I feel strongly the “Silver Box” will be revealing its contents. From there we will have to determine what the significance is of what’s inside. Ciao!

© madison taylor 2008

Annie Haskell --- Madison Tayler's Psychoanalyst's Office

Dr. Annie Haskell’s Office as a Psychoanalyst

<em>Somewhere In Time – John Barry</em>

Robert Mapplethorpe --- 28 Closeup Yellow Lily

Robert Mapplethorpe — 28 Closeup Yellow Lily

rain in garden gif

Missing You Though We’re Not Gone
by Madison Taylor
Tuesday 22nd April 2008

Missing you though we’re not gone
Fear you will leave before me
Without you I will be left alone
In this way I could not ever be

Your presence is a wanted dream
To think and speak of many things
To brighten days shine as the sun
Our family whole what love it brings

One day in hours the time will come
We’ll spend the minutes creating fun
In company together we shall be
In spirit connecting forever free

© madison taylor 2008

Psychedelic Alpha Coders

Psychedelic Alpha Coders

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

Patrick is our Bengal cat in tree. He loves Scotties. They are buddies.   1612x1212 Patrick-our Bengal cat up in his tree-Scottie’s buddy

Havana Brown Kitten  Madison and Scottie's kitten One of the Two   800x600

Havana Brown Kitten Madison & Scottie’s. This cutie is Toker. He has a twin brother Mikey

actresses-with-long-hair-hairstyle frenchHunter Marx [taken 7 years ago in 2001 year Hunter & Madison met]

play is not just play meryl streep

Private Writings: Chapter #30 — Tea Party on the Ceiling

private writings to a psychoanalyst (c) Jk 2013

Private Writings: Chapter #30 — Tea Party on the Ceiling
Written by Jennifer Kiley
Introduction & Chapter #1
Published on March 19th 2013
Published Early Tuesday AM

Posted On Tuesday 15th October 2013

WARNING: ADULT LANGUAGE AND CONTENT.
NOT SUITABLE FOR CHILDREN.

ALL CHARACTERS ARE FICTITIOUS.
ANYONE RESEMBLING ANYONE LIVING OR DEAD
IS PURELY COINCIDENTAL.

Crypticistic Synopsis:

I am writing to Dr. Annie Haskell. My form of storytelling is through
letters containing dreams, thoughts, poems, music, describing my script
“Brief Sacrifice,” already made into a film but not yet released, psycho-
therapy, inspirations, reflective comments, the inner workings of the mind,
soul, body, emotions, and bipolar. I prefer mentally creative, interesting, or
having a brain misfiring. Included in the mix are childhood abuse, car crashes,
near drownings, drugs [the illegal kind at present], hallucinations, hypersexuality,
time warps, finding answers to unsolved mysteries, infatuation, imagination, fantasy,

and a need to discover my bliss.
See you inside.
Namaste! Madison Taylor

Private Writings: Chapter #30 — Tea Party on the Ceiling

Tuesday 8th April 2008

Dear Annie,

You really surprised me after the last group meeting. It was difficult to end it and walk out of that room. But you were by my side. I had someone to be with who would listen and understand what I was going through. It shocked me when you led me outside to your car. My face must have looked like I transformed into a ghost. You didn’t give me warning you were going to take me out after group. We drove to a coffee shop and sat outside. You ordered us a pot of green tea and an assortment of small desserts as a treat.

I wasn’t exactly thrilled by the idea. It was sweet of you but truthfully, it really freaked me out. The words wouldn’t come to me at the time. Instead I pretended to be okay. Meanwhile, my insides were twisting up inside. You thought a celebration away from the counseling center would be good for me. You forgot one thing in your surprise. How leaving a safe place, well, sort of a safe place, would make me feel. You know I am an agoraphobic. That was the first time I’ve been to a public restaurant in over 7 years. Why you thought that was a good idea, I will never understand.

I know I said I would try to work with you about going out to different places. But I thought you would prepare me before we did anything. I don’t want to say more than this about what we did. Maybe some other time we can figure out how to get me to work with you on this but I am definitely not ready to do it now.

I have a different plan for what I would like to work on this week in therapy. I found a survey which I feel could be very revealing. I plan on filling it out. It felt like a way of my telling you some personal, in-depth truths about myself. The information that is asked for looks really difficult to answer but I will try to be as honest & freely detailed as possible.

My thoughts & feelings are to treat it as though it were a Rorschach test. I will think of you asking me each request for something intimate about myself & I will answer in a responsive manner without trying to cover up my immediate reaction. It may be scary to be so revealing but I will make every effort not to hide what I am holding inside.

Let’s look at it as a test in truth & trust. Fair enough. I felt we could, then, discuss what I wrote at our next session or you could ask me from the written question what I am feeling while in our session. To make even more immediate and then compare the two responses.

I really don’t want to talk about our going out in the past session. So, I hope you like my idea of doing this. If not, I can at least give you a copy of what the survey is and how I responded. It will hopefully be informative and give you a further insight into how I work.

Now, I’m about to take a deep breath. I need to concentrate and make myself relax. I am not really good at these surveys. I’m not exactly sure why I’m putting myself through this, but I’ve already committed. So, bravery it is. Here goes:

My Mood today is… I have a touch of apprehension and feelings of disappointment even though I feel I am achieving progress on all the projects I have started. Left over fear from something I was afraid to do but found the courage inside myself to reach out of my comfort zone to actually do.

Relationship status… I have a partner who gives me amazing support. Who is there for me when I need her to be even though I feel she doesn’t always feel I am there for her, but the truth is I would do anything for her, whatever it would be, if she asked.

Health status… My cancer is in remission but I have a left over weakness I am still rebounding from which exhausts me so easily. My bipolar gives me a faux sense of energy which I use, then I crash from using it up. I don’t sleep well. Too many nightmares, Not enough good dreams.

I would describe my spiritual path as… Reincarnation. Spirits. Guardian Angels. I want to believe there is a consciousness after we leave our bodies. The Soul feels real to me. Nothing else explains all the phenomena I experience that reality cannot explain.

Main thing on my mind is… A friend I feel close to. My feelings are strong. It is so easy to hurt each other. I love her deeply. I know in my past I have always had trouble being able to maintain any relationships except my one with my partner, Scottie. Losing people I love is a huge part of my past and I am afraid part of my present and future. I do not deal with loss well. It breaks my heart when I lose anyone I love. And it seems like it happens too frequently and continually in my life. I know many actors and entertainers from my connections through Scottie. Scottie likes to have parties. Some of those people we have gotten close to have died suddenly, shocking the world. But for those who knew them, it is even more difficult. So, I would say loss seems to always be on my mind. It never gives me a moment of peace.

My ambitions are…. To be writing my screenplays and hoping for success to continue. I wish to be nominated for a BAFTA, a Golden Globe, and an Oscar. It would be amazing to reach the ability to write such a script that would move people to actually be positively affected by what I have to say with my words. Also, to someday write a play good or great enough for Broadway. I’ve always dreamed of being in the theatre as well as the movies, once upon a time to be on stage but then I realized I preferred being the one who wrote the words the actors spoke.

What I want most is…. I would love to have enough money to start many different organizations which would care for animals, children who have been abused, grown-ups dealing with their abuse as adults, retreats to support artists in all areas of creative expression, set up a scholarship fund to enable those who want to pursue the arts through training whether it be college or workshops, to become a patron of gifted artists. I want to be clear when I use the word artists, I am referring to the arts inclusive of painters, writers, poets, sculptures, those in the graphic arts, film. I have already established a film production company with Scottie, I would love to start a school for training actors. Find the best professionals to do workshops. Go back to the ways of the Actors Studio with Lee Strasburg and train actors in the way of Great Britain.

What I need most is…. How to be able to feel love without fear mixed in. To make love without shutting down from the fear I learned when I was abused as a child and as an adult. To feel close to people who I love and who want to love me in return. To not replay the abuse when someone I am close to might trigger a behavior that feels like the way an abuser seduced me or made me feel.

I have been reading…. A great many books on Bipolar, literature, poetry, Anais Nin, Virginia Woolf. I love fantasy, and the mystical. My great passion are books on psychology, mysteries and psychological thrillers.

I have been watching… Lost. This series has me hypnotized. I watch my DVDs on my favorite series of all times, “Twin Peaks” by David Lynch. I watch films day and night, also. I love the classics. In the late 30s through the early 70s, that is when the best films were made.

I have been listening to…. Classical, folk, some pop, some rap, musical theatre, Celtic. Specific performers: Yo-Yo Ma,

My best characteristics are…. I am kind & gentle. I listen & try to understand people who need someone to listen to them. I am empathetic. I try to encourage & give support to other. I love animals more than any other creatures on the planet and care about them. I am an animal whisperer. I draw animals & people out who are withdrawn & feel unable to trust anyone.

My worst characteristics are… I lose my temper too easily & become irritable. My bipolar sets this behavior off in me. I withdraw from people. I am not sure if this is a characteristic but my feelings get hurt really easily & I am not very forgiving. I hate saying I am sorry. That has to do with my childhood.

My vices are… I don’t really have any now. I use to smoke, do drugs, drink coffee, swear, sexual often, spending too much money, got drunk, but I don’t do any of these now, except swearing but I don’t see that as a vice.

Politically I would describe myself as… Progressive. I want peace everywhere. I feel everyone should be taken care of & have their needs met in any way possible.

In terms of fashion and lifestyle I would describe myself as… Casual. Relaxed. Not into latest fashion. I like to be comfortable. Warm when it’s cold out. Cool when it is warm out.

I would like to learn… Several new languages. French, Spanish, Italian, Arabic, I would like to learn how to play the piano properly, not the way I know how to play it now. I would like to learn how to make a film that are computer generated animation with fantastic images.

My recent regrets are… Hurting someone I would never have wanted to hurt ever in my life.

My recent achievements are… Completing a screenplay that has been made into a film which is almost ready to be released to the theatre audience. Created a poetry collection that is due to be published very soon.

My message to myself is… I feel I am a good person. I love the people and animals I love and I let them know how I feel. I try to give myself a break for not being perfect. I need to be easier on myself for making mistakes. I need to stop being so hard on myself. I need to let myself be loved. Lastly, I want to tell myself it is okay to feel what it is like to be loved in all ways, emotionally, psychologically, spiritually, physically and sexually. It is okay for me to let go of the abuse of the past and feel the generosity of love being given to me now without feeling scared to feel it and to share it and to return the love without fear.

How do you think I did, Annie? I thought I was pretty direct. Maybe a B+ for courage and an A+ for effort.
Maybe it’s time to change the subject. “Brief Sacrifice” feels like it is in order. I am sure you must be curious by now to find out what is in the Silver Box with absolutely not seems or ways of opening it up. It will take magic. James, Carter McLeod’s Savannah cat, he is the key to the Silver Box. It is up to him to perform a certain task. You must recall James is psychic. One of his many qualities.

Another one of His abilities is to cause objects to perform in ways contrary to their make-up and ability. In these cases, James needs to concentrate. In his mind, lies the key with the Power to make anything do what He wants it to do. How is James, a mere cat, going to know what is expected of him, you ask? Magic. He is filled with Magic.
Not the kind David Blaine or David Copperfield perform. They are smoke and mirrors.

James is of the Deeper Magic. The Magic that caused the world to be Created. Deeper, even more than that. It is the Magic which caused the Big Bang to occur. The kind that created the Universe and all the Stars, Planets, Solar Systems, Quarks, Black Holes, and Cosmos upon Cosmos. All that makes the Universe expand, divide and create Multi-verses. The Magic of Infinity, Reincarnation, Karma and Nirvana, Dragons and Mythical Creatures, once they were Real but they disappeared into the Ether. Yet, they exist still but only reveal themselves to those who have the power of the Seer. The Power of Sight.

James will be the catalyst to save humankind. He will open the door to All of Time. Nikola Tesla has created from the Deeper Magic, a gift for Humankind. Within the Silver Box, this gift has rested since Nikola Tesla gave the Silver Box to the old man. And now Carter McLeod is in possession of this Silver Box. It is up to Jackson Sharp to open the power within James, so he will be able to open the Silver Box. Once it is opened, the content will be revealed. But even then the Magic will not be revealed. The Magic is within the Gift in the Silver Box. It must be understood before the Magic can be awakened held within the Gift.

This is as far as we will go in this letter. Let your imagination follow these revelations. Find the path in which it leads. Eventually, all with be revealed. Patience is of the utmost importance in this matter.

Oh, my, the story within my script, within the film “Brief Sacrifice” is a wild ride. It has barely begun.
Till I see you next Tuesday and we discuss my survey and whatever else comes up, I am going to rest. And later, I may work on my latest screenplay. I will tell something about it when I am ready. It is at a stage when it needs to be between me and my computer screen.

Hope you will have a good week until I see you next week.

Fondly,
Madison

Annie Haskell --- Madison Tayler's Psychoanalyst's Office

Dr. Annie Haskell’s Office as a Psychoanalyst

Somewhere In Time – John Barry

Tiger orchid #14 Robert Mapplethorp

Tiger orchid #14 Robert Mapplethorp

rain in garden gif

“Dreaming In Chaos”
Narrative Haiku [5-7-7]
by Madison Taylor

Tuesday 15th April 2008

Dreaming in chaos
Two divided both broken
Friendship betrayed lost purpose

Claim broken is wrong
Trusting in truth essential
Comprehension not valid

Devotion damaged
Disparaging remarks stabbed
Distortion destroyed feelings

Time elicits pain
Illusion perceived unearthed
Difference creates changes

Pieces broke not healed
Damage increases distance
Understand ethereal

Vanishing goodness
Pressure continues more stabs
Bleeding emotions lose hope

No cure in future
Hopelessness drying in stone
What was grey turned black and white

© madison taylor 2008

Abstract Chaos --- Artist Anonymous

Abstract Chaos — Artist Anonymous

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

Patrick is our Bengal cat in tree. He loves Scotties. They are buddies.   1612x1212 Patrick-our Bengal cat up in his tree-Scottie’s buddy

Havana Brown Kitten  Madison and Scottie's kitten One of the Two   800x600

Havana Brown Kitten Madison & Scottie’s. This cutie is Toker. He has a twin brother Mikey

Snow Dragon with Woman --- Digital Art by Eyu Letsana. Borrowed from The Dragon of the Month Post of MacKenzie's Dragonsnest. See Below for the Link to you site and the Post the Snow Dragon is Featured.

Snow Dragon with Woman — Digital Art by Eyu Letsana. Borrowed from The Dragon of the Month Post of MacKenzie’s Dragonsnest. Link below to Shawn MacKenzie’s, site and her post featuring the Snow Dragon.

The Frost is on the Dragon — Posted Thursday 10th October 2013 on MacKenzie’s Dragonsnest . [Blog Name is Link].

These are some of the Illustrated Images of Mythical Creatures and Dragon to be featured in the Film “Brief Sacrifice.” They are key to aiding in Carter McLeod finding the secrets which eventually will need to be discovered in order to carry out the Friends of Nikola Tesla’s plans for the future of humankind.

neil gaiman from stardust 972x633

Neil Gaiman from Stardust

play is not just play meryl streep

Private Writings: Chapter #28 — Death on the Veranda

private writings to a psychoanalyst (c) Jk 2013

Private Writings: Chapter #28 – –Death on the Veranda
Written by Jennifer Kiley
Published Introduction & Chapter #1
On 19th March 2013
Published Early Tuesday AM
Posted On 1st October 2013
Dedicated to Julie Andrews. Always Wished She Were My Mother.
Happy Birthday! 1st October 1935 Day J.A. Blessed This World. Saved My Life.

WARNING: ADULT LANGUAGE AND CONTENT.
NOT SUITABLE FOR CHILDREN.

ALL CHARACTERS ARE FICTITIOUS.
ANYONE RESEMBLING ANYONE LIVING OR DEAD
IS PURELY COINCIDENTAL.

Crypticistic Synopsis:

I am writing to Dr. Annie Haskell. My form of storytelling is through
letters containing dreams, thoughts, poems, music, describing my script
“Brief Sacrifice,” already made into a film but not yet released, psycho-
therapy, inspirations, reflective comments, the inner workings of the mind,
soul, body, emotions, and bipolar. I prefer mentally creative, interesting, or
having a brain misfiring. Included in the mix are childhood abuse, car crashes,
near drownings, drugs [the illegal kind at present], hallucinations, hypersexuality,
time warps, finding answers to unsolved mysteries, infatuation, imagination, fantasy,

and a need to discover my bliss.
See you inside.
Namaste! Madison Taylor

Private Writings: — Chapter #28: Death on the Veranda

Tuesday 1st April 2008

Dear Annie,

That was some announcement you made in group. I was stunned and couldn’t react in our session or in group today. I thought it being April Fool’s Day you were joking. First you tell us group had one more meeting, the last being next Tuesday followed by our session. Then to top that off, came the shock of the decade. The police declared Angie’s death a homicide. They arrested Dr. George. He has been charge with her murder. They feel the evidence is pretty airtight. The only thing you didn’t say was the cause of death.

A murder, I thought so all along, but Dr. George. Why would he throw away everything for her? It doesn’t sound right to me. She was not a very nice person. He must have been threatened to make him kill her. Not trying to blame the victim, but why are the police being so quiet about it all. Not a clue to go on. Curious mind wants to know. It’s driving slowly by a crash scene. You don’t want to see the gore but you do want to know what happened. Everyone does, unless they have a total lack of curiosity.

I hope he didn’t do it and a good lawyer gets him off. My feelings aside, he doesn’t deserve prison for putting up with her for ten years. We both started seeing him about the same time. He seemed alright back then, but deteriorated slowly since then. Retiring would have been one way to go, but murder. To be taken out by killing someone. That’s going a bit too far, indubitably.

I don’t mean to take this so lightly, but it is April Fool’s, remember. It all seems like a dream someone sat on and all the cream filling went smush! Should I really be serious? Angie died. I don’t miss her. Don’t even say I should, just little. Never. Not ever. She stuck me every week with her sarcasm and fucked up sense of propriety. Homophobia, she took to an extreme. She was twisted. Perverse. Jealous, I have someone who loves me. Couldn’t stand anyone being happy, if she wasn’t. I know she was definitely pissed off at the whole fucking world, like it owed her something.

Well, I do not miss her. Maybe sorry she was murdered. That part is terrible. It hurts her kids. I remember what I said when we all first heard about it, I said her kids would have a better life. But I am sure they are hurting now. It creeps me out thinking about it.

You mentioned in group, at the close, there is another group forming soon. It would be a selected group. More specific but you didn’t say how specific. I should have asked you in session but it slipped my mind. Feeling depressed for the past several days needed more attention.

Everything felt so lost. The more I felt myself slipping away from the real world, the deeper the pain was cutting into my flesh. Wanting to make myself hurt with physical pain was my only distraction from wanting to kill myself. Wanting to die was so powerful. A voice was speaking to me, “how do you think your friends and Scottie and your animals feel if you died by killing yourself.” It is my animals and Scottie who keep me around. And the friend who spoke those words, she, also, keeps me alive. I couldn’t hurt any of them, not in taking my own life. I have no control over feeling depressed. It is build into the misfiring of my brain.

Being bipolar gives me such highs. I write the sharpest dialogue and scenes are filled with life. When I’m depressed, I find a way of using those moments to be creative, also. But the pain courses through my blood, wanting to burst through like a gusher. The pressure in my head, to scream out the need to beat myself, to make myself bleed. Depression is so difficult to talk about, everyone backs away from it. They don’t get it. The worse things a person can do to a person who is feeling this way is to tell them to “Snap Out of It,” or “Get Over It, ” and the best, “What Do You Have to be Depressed About? You’ve got a great life.”

Depression has nothing to do with what you have or how much money in your bank account. You could be the wealthiest person in the world. Depression doesn’t acknowledge the means of one’s life. Graduating college Head of the Dean’s List, head of your class, editor of the college paper, that isn’t recognized when you want to kill yourself. Being nominated for an Oscar, absolutely nothing in it stops depression. When Depression wants to grab ahold of you, pull you down or push you closer and closer to the edge, nothing will stop it but trying to refocus its’ intentions. It feels an entity onto itself, with more power then I have inside of me to fight it.

I have won all the battles so far, but they are not through with me. Probably never will be. It is my battle to have two prominent sides to my bipolar. I am just so excited when I am excited because I am not depressed. There is a catch. Being high on life when bipolar can spin you too far to the upper end. You can get too high. Once again, the possibilities of losing control.

I want to switch over to a quick look into “Brief Sacrifice.” I have one piece for you this week from the script. There is a secret organization trying to locate the Friends of Nikola Tesla. They want to destroy them. They know something is changing. They know Carter McLeod is in possession of the Silver Box, and that it holds magical powers. They want to retrieve this and the person who holds it. Their anagram is GEUSS. Pronounced as the word “Guess.” I will tell you in my next letter about the initials and what the anagram means.

We should really talk about what I wrote and the poem I know I am going to write after I finish this letter.

It makes me feel so happy your being in my life.

Fondly,

Madison

Annie Haskell --- Madison Tayler's Psychoanalyst's Office

Dr. Annie Haskell’s Office as a Psychoanalyst

<em>Somewhere In Time – John Barry</em>

calla_lily_bunch

Calla Lily Bunch

rain in garden gif

Screaming Death
Written by Madison Taylor
1st April 2008

Screaming death
Life ending
Beginning
Dying

Living has too many endings
Once there
Disappearing
Into invisible air

Pain fills the heart
Exploding like fireworks
Shooting stars
Covering the sky

Blood spurting
From dying flesh
Taken out
By the enemy

All is stolen
Dreams
Memories
Not yet lived

Just gone
All is gone
Ripped apart
Stolen away from love

© madison taylor 2008

Reflecting Abstract Artist --- Jaison Cianelli

Reflecting — Abstract Art — Artist — Jaison Cianelli

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

Patrick is our Bengal cat in tree. He loves Scotties. They are buddies.   1612x1212 Patrick-our Bengal cat up in his tree-Scottie’s buddy

Havana Brown Kitten  Madison and Scottie's kitten One of the Two   800x600

Havana Brown Kitten Madison & Scottie’s. This cutie is Toker. He has a twin brother Mikey

English Country Gardens Chateau de Rocher framed

English Country Gardens Chateau de Rocher

play is not just play meryl streep

Why Do We Sleep?

tell me a story
Why Do We Sleep?
TED Talk: Russell Foster
Written by Jennifer Kiley
Created 21st August 2013
Posted Thursday 19th September 2013
TELL ME A STORY

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=LWULB9Aoopc
Russell Foster: Why Do We Sleep? TEDTalk

will this help u sleep anoes freddie

Freddy Kruger Nightmare on Elm Street

Point #1

We think of sleep as something we need a cure for
rather then treating it as something we all need.

Point #2

Lack of sleep causes weight gain.

Point #3

The body craves carbohydrates.

Point #4

Sustained stress due to lack of sleep.

Point #5

Glucose gets thrown into the mixture with sleep loss
which eventually leads to diabetes.

is this your face in nightmares  iotbs kevin mccarthy

Kevin McCarthy in Invasions of the Body Snatchers

Point #6

Try not to drink caffeine late in the day.
Preferably not after lunch.

Point #7

There are morning people and evening people.
I find that morning people are just horribly smug.

Point #8

Mental illness and sleep.
Sleep disruption is associated with mental problems.

Point #9

Sleep was irregular.
Stayed up late at night and slept during the day.

Point #10

Genes are connected to normal sleep.

don't sleep  tnotbs ds

Donald Sutherland in [newer version] Invasions of the Body Snatchers

Point #11

Genes connected to mental illness
smashes your sleep.

Point #12

High risk to develop Bipolar with sleep disruption.

Point #13

Lack of sleep exacerbates symptoms of mental illness.

Point #14

Take sleep seriously.

Point #15

We use to understand the importance of sleep.

Point #16

If you get enough sleep,
it improves your moods,
anger,
mental health.

Poetry Out Loud: Change

poetry out loud - day title saturdayChange
Written by Jennifer Kiley
Illustrated by j. kiley
Post Created Friday 13th September 2013
Posted Saturday 14th 2013
POETRY OUT LOUD

la fleur bleu d'artiste by j. kiley (c) jennifer kiley 2013

la fleur bleu d’artiste by j. kiley (c) jennifer kiley 2013

Change
Written by Jennifer Kiley
Thursday 12th September 2013

Change makes life magic
Wandering wild through the mind
Freeing crust covering dreams

Expectations gone
Stretch universe past limits
Liberation wide open

Art is creative
Rescued ideas in thoughts
No depth created not art

© jennifer kiley 2013

flowing time by yaroslava

Flowing Time by Yaroslava

Cant U Feel the Change — David Guetta

Private Writings: Chapter #25 — Private Dancer

private writings by jennifer kileyPrivate Writings: Chapter #25 — Private Dancer
Written by Jennifer Kiley
Published Introduction & Chapter #1 On 19th March 2013
Published Early Tuesday AM
Posted On 10rd September 2013
WARNING: ADULT LANGUAGE AND CONTENT.
NOT SUITABLE FOR CHILDREN.

ALL CHARACTERS ARE FICTITIOUS.
ANYONE RESEMBLING ANYONE LIVING OR DEAD
IS PURELY COINCIDENTAL.

Crypticistic Synopsis:

I am writing to Dr. Annie Haskell. My form of storytelling is through letters containing dreams, thoughts, poems, music, describing my script ‘Brief Sacrifice,’ already made into a film but not yet released, psychotherapy, inspirations, reflective comments, the inner workings of the mind, soul, body, emotions, and bipolar. I prefer mentally creative, interesting, or having a brain misfiring. Included in the mix are childhood abuse, car crashes, near drownings, drugs [the illegal kind at present], hallucinations, hypersexuality, time warps, finding answers to unsolved mysteries, infatuation, imagination, fantasy,

and a need to discover my bliss.
See you inside.
— Namaste! Madison Taylor

Private Writings: Chapter #24 — Private Dancer

Tuesday 11th March 2008

Dear Annie,

What do I say to you about our first day of private therapy.

If you could imagine my waiting for you to come out to get me in the waiting room. My insides were flipping over. The chair could have floated out from underneath me, I was ascending to the ceiling so often. Then it came. Your hand gently resting on my shoulder. The electric current woke me from a trance. My ear buds were in. Music was high, playing ‘Everything I Do, I Do It For You.’ I’m sure you’re familiar with Bryan Adams.

You touched me. It was the first time. So unexpected but I didn’t flinch. Your hand felt so safe. No touch does from people. Why, then was it okay with you? Therapy began in a moment I never will forget.

I didn’t say anything. Just followed you to your office. It was exactly how my mind imagined it. There is a photograph in my head. Your office is exactly identical. I have been seeing the future again.

What did we talk about? I was in a daze. Being alone with you was overwhelming. After the long wait of wishing for just this day. It seemed like being inside of a dream I’ve been dreaming forever. You have been buried, living inside my mind. You are the one.

Explaining what I mean is beyond human words. It is buried in memories outside of time. A recurring sense of familiarity without any connection till now. It is of times past. Other lives. Reincarnation. Having been together before now. We knew and lived in other times together. What I am writing sounds certifiable to most. Look how people tease Shirley MacLaine. People believe but are embarrassed by believing in such seemingly bizarre, other dimensional phenomena. I do believe mostly, but have doubts when others question the strength of my beliefs.

I am so easily influenced. What I believe floats with the breeze and seems too easily changeable as is the direction of the wind. It is not because I don’t belief what I do belief, it’s my need to question everything. Which leaves me feeling confused, as though I stand on the solidness of quicksand most of the time.

Everything in life confuses me. In a moment I will believe in something being as real as anything can be. In a flash the connection is broken. Reality turns into a nightmare of chaotic brainwaves of disbelief. A crumbling of my reality into a collection of delusional thoughts, a puzzle where the pieces don’t fit together any way you try to make sense of them.

I lose track. Stop knowing what to believe. Testing anything becomes too frightening. The fear, is my reality is false, and my delusions are true. What does one do when thinking and feeling like the world is alien, which trips back and forth at will, no control from within me.

I think it is why I like fantasy. Watching movies. Reading books. Writing outrageous fiction. Creating cryptic poetry. The abstract is more acceptable. It can be whatever it wants to be. Change when it wants to. It is simply accepted. A true shape-shifter. Maybe I am one. Never the same. Always someone different.

Will you be able to help me. I need a complete internal make-over. Inside of me lives a very fucked up mess. Filled with fear. Wanting to love but retreating as soon as it feels too close. Reaching for it. Shutting down when it is given. I would say I am really screwed. The up part I let it be cut off. Most of the time I don’t feel up. When I do, it drives everyone crazy except me. I don’t live outside my body. I don’t notice the extreme agitation and rage. I become fixated and driven. I have no idea why I feel the way I do, except most of the moments when I am awake I chase after the muse to keep up. Exactly like Alice with her White Rabbit. I fall down the Rabbit Hole on a regular basis.

The Mad-Hatter is a really great friend, if one can be friends with someone as crazy as you are. Actually, maybe it is easier. Is there a direction we can take to relieve the pressure? The urges to want out of this world. Oh, yeah, the state of suicidal thinking is a regular visitor in my head. We are co-operating companions. I won’t let her harm me, she knows it is true, so the deal is, I let her exist as long as she lets me have my moments of being in my bliss or high, so I can write and create. She even helps sometimes find those hidden meanings and depth I find so elusive. She knows the secret passageways to memories. Knowledge one can’t find in the wide awake world. Too much bright light can hide the views of the darkness. The answers lie in the darkness. The ones I am seeking.

So what did we talk about. I asked you to tell me who you were. Not using those words. You told me you had a daughter in high school, ninth grade I believe. She wants to be an actor. The plays and musicals she’s been in, all were as the lead. See if my memory fails or leads me to the correct answers. Memory failure is common with me. To begin with, she played Maria in West Side Story. Let me think, she was Juliet in Shakespeare’s modernized production of my beloved ‘Romeo and Juliet.’ Marvelous play. Such an ending, an example of extremely bad timing all around for all those ending up dead. Quite a high number but not as severe as Hamlet.

Which brings me to Hamlet. Her school switched things up a bit on Elizabethan rules, had a lady playing a young man in the way of Hamlet. Your daughter was the lucky one to win the sweet role. The sheer fact at her age to succeed at doing a shortened version of Hamlet or any version is extremely difficult. But you told me she always received excellent write-ups in the local paper and school paper, on all her performances. Which makes me feel and think I would like to meet her someday. Make an attempt to write her the perfect part in one of my screenplays. We will discuss this. If she has aspirations toward being a professional actor, Scottie, my partner in life and career, is a director. We have our own production company, ‘Infinite Imaginations, Inc. III.’ If you would like and she agrees, we could arrange a screen test, see how she appears through the eye of the camera.

If you help to fix me, I would be overjoyed to help you with your daughters future in the world of film. It would, actually be my pleasure. You would know she’d be safe with Scottie watching out for her. And I’d write her an Oscar winning role. Not over-confident, am I?

This leads me right into my favorite part of writing to you. I love telling you about my work and particularly my latest script, ‘Brief Sacrifice.’ We left off with Carter pursuing a lead, following the trail of the Magic Silver Box without any seams and impossible to open. Carter needed the input of her three companions, Jasper, Jax, and James, her Savannah Cats. James’ specific psychic ability was the best way to sort things out but they must follow the trail of its origin.

The first destination was the Estate where Carter purchased her Treasure. Hopefully, they could provide information as to the origins or name of the deceased whose Estate was being sold. If Carter had that name, it could lead to other connections.

After arriving, they found the caretaker. He directed Carter to the lawyer’s office who managed the deceased estate. The firm was hired by Jackson Sharp, to take care of closing out the estate. They directed Carter to where she could locate him.

When she found Jackson Sharp, he invited her in, as though he was expecting her. After the amenities, he asked her and her companions to make themselves very comfortable, for he, Jackson Sharp had a story to tell them.

He started out his story as follows: “The deceased was the Leader of the Organization: The Friends of Nikola Tesla. He managed the Friends of Nikola Tesla since shortly after his, Tesla’s, death at a young age . He died penniless after creating amazing inventions. He worked for Edison, whom he had no affection for but was fortunate to have acquired the support of an extremely wealthy entrepreneur in Morgan and later joined by another wealthy benefactor.”

“Tesla was moving forward with his inventions until he came upon a way for everyone in the world to have free electricity by simply putting a specially devised pole in the ground. The best part is the power from these sources would not only make electricity free, it would eventually create absolutely no need for the use of fossil fuels. Oil that is, Texas gold.”

“Well, his wealthy benefactors did not want this invention to ever see the light of his invention. They buried him. Withdrew their financial support. No one was ever going to see his dream in action. It did sneak into the invention of the Tesla Electric Car, which is doing very well.”

“After Tesla’s death, the U.S. Government absconded with all his possessions where he was living, and hid them away. Did they get everything, though? I believed in Nikola Tesla, myself, once I heard the story from the old man who died. I’m sorry I cannot tell you his identity, it was my promise to never reveal his secret.

“Tesla was brilliant. Did anyone believe he would not have secret locations where he would hide his own secret inventions. Especially after all which had been stolen from him. He was sure to want to leave a legacy for the future where he hoped there would be those who would understand his genius and his amazing capabilities. I am privileged to those secrets. During the remaining years of his life, the old man, with a group of secret individuals of like minds, protected Nikola Tesla’s answers to the future of humankind.”

“These secrets are set to be passed down through generations until humankind is worthy of the powers Nikola Tesla put into his work and dreams. Even the powers of electricity free for all is well hidden away until the world can rid itself of the parasites who live off the energy of the masses. Who cast them aside as though they meant nothing. The .01% of the population are those parasites who are starving the world as they destroy the beauty in nature and make slaves of the majority of humankind. Their day will fall. They will disappear for good.”

“On that day, all the secrets will be revealed. Humankind will make a change. All will be new. The world will be recreated. This is Nikola Tesla’s dream and what Friends of Nikola Tesla are protecting until the time comes for his Dream to be put into full action.”

“All of this is contained in a special Silver Box filled with Magical abilities. This Magic has the capability to alter the world enough so that Change and Truth can be revealed. If I am not mistaken,” Jackson Stark said. “You are in possession of this Silver Box ?”

“Yes, that is correct, but how did you know?” Carter said.

“It was meant to belong to you. You were chosen. I will explain, but let us rest now. I will have arrangements made for you, Carter, and your companions to stay here for while. It’s just for your own protection.”

“What protection? Why do we need protection?”

“The contents of the Silver Box is being searched for as we speak. Many extremely dangerous people will not stop ever until it is found, those who have knowledge of it and those who are in possession of it, are all destroyed. What you hold in your possession is truly Magical, with powers you will find very difficult to understand. It is too soon to get into what it is. The time will be soon enough.”

“Now let me show you to your suite, where you can make your selves comfortable. I will prepare a delicious meal for everyone. Don’t worry Jasper, Jax and you, too, James. I know James, you are the Special One with all the psychic talents. It’s rare to find a cat who matches up with a companion who understands his ability. You can, can’t you, Carter! You have the Magic, also. That is partly why you were all chosen. But there you are. I am getting ahead of myself. I will leave now. Get comfortable. You will find snacks for all in the small refrigerator over against the wall, just over there. Now, I take my leave. Dinner will come shortly, I promise. I will ring you on the intercom. Rest. You will need it for what’s ahead.”

He disappeared. They did as he said and all rested.

And I will stop there. Leave you wanting more.

What a day. A dream comes true. Fear is rising. But telling you my tale of Magic calms me down.

I know I didn’t say anything about the group. What I would have to write would take away from the specialness of having you all to myself today. I don’t want to think about group anymore. I wish it would just end. Be done with it. The only reason I still go now is to see you. Now I can do that on my own. I will leave group at saying there is little I will miss. The past too many years have only been a disaster I should have ended long ago. But I know now, why I didn’t. It was meant for me to live through, till the day came I would meet you, Annie. Serendipity. Maybe. Sometimes what leads up to it can be extremely painful. I needed to learn what I didn’t need, to discover what I do need, and want. Enough from that lesson. Let it be over now. Enough!

Time to stop.

Until I see you next time.

Fondly and Gratefully, I sign off with much appreciation to you, Annie.

Always Want To Know You,

Madison

Annie Haskell --- Madison Tayler's Psychoanalyst's Office

Dr. Annie Haskell’s Office as a Psychoanalyst

Somewhere In Time – John Barry

Forget-Me-Nots

Forget-Me-Nots

rain in garden giftrusting
written by madison taylor
monday 10th february 2008

trusting the newness
memories overturning
in graves their awakening

arms pull warmth to me
body’s touching silky skin
caressing gently my dreams

feeling hands inside
flesh responds in still silence
open wanting pleads let go

© madison taylor 2008

a matter of time --- artist katherine patrick

a matter of time — artist katherine patrick

Nothing Out There — Soundcloud — Soundtrack ‘Brief Sacrifice’

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

Patrick is our Bengal cat in tree. He loves Scotties. They are buddies.   1612x1212

Patrick-our Bengal cat up in his tree-Scottie’s buddy

Havana Brown Kitten  Madison and Scottie's kitten One of the Two   800x600

Havana Brown Kitten Madison & Scottie’s. This cutie is Toker. He has a twin brother Mikey

Chateau de Rocher Art Gallery  999x752

Chateau de Rocher Art Gallery

play is not just play meryl streep