Private Writings: Chapter #61- “From Me To You”

private writings to a psychoanalyst (c) Jk 2013Private Writings: Chapter #61 – “From Me To You”
Written by Jennifer Kiley
Post Tuesday 13th May 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 #61 “From Me To You”

Tuesday 4th November 2008

Dear Annie,

The other night, while I was writing in “A Writer’s Diary” a most bizarre idea occurred to me. Actually, it was two ideas. The first is not so bad to talk about. I decided I wanted to create a scrapbook of photographs of an actress I have a deep & lasting crush on. We’ve never met. I want to write her a script she would love. My fantasy is she accepts & I get to work with her. Running lines. Having her over for drinks, non-alcoholic or not.

I prefer weed to drink. More a sense of control. Your mind doesn’t get muddled. It floods out like a dam broken on a roaring river. All is washed away & awareness becomes acutely sensitive to every stimuli within my reach. But back to my ideas.

The sordid idea that came to me felt so freeing. I decided to created “A Writer’s Diary” that really told & showed everything I was brave enough to release from being a prisoner in the darkest room in the back of my mind. Mostly unreachable. Only set off by triggers from the ghosts that traveled the road inside of my past.

And now they are slowly returning with their stories of what they did to me. More like their lies & denials of anything ever occurring. I am only seeking attention. No one ever touched me. I have such horrible, brutal details from my childhood abuse living inside my conscious mind. Some get pulled back down under.

But suddenly they will rush out at me when I might be biting into a sandwich & taking a sip from someone’s sweet milky coffee, the way my male birth parent took his coffee, lots of sugar & cream. My good grandfather liked it that way also. When we would ever have lunch together when I was a child, he would always offer me a sip. He knew I was too shy to ask. He also would give me bites of the sandwiches my grandmother would make for our outings together. He had his favorites & I had mine. But my grandfather knew I loved the taste of whatever he was eating more than my own food, even if it was the same exact ingredients. Made no difference, his food always tasted better than mine.

He loved to take me to the stables & let me ride one of the smaller horses. I was so drawn to horses. They were my fantasy escape. I would ride off on my horse with someone, a young, blue eyed, light brownish blond hair, wavy & touching her shoulders, girl. She would find her horse & I would lead her to the best secret sights to ride to. Places no one else knew about. They were well hidden behind walls of morning glory & raspberry bushes. I knew the silent entrances no one else was ever able to find. Those were my woods. No one knew them as well as I did. I could run through them as though I were in a race at the Olympics out for the win.

Today, it is all so overgrown, one would need a machete to whack our way into the fortress, my palace against the danger of the times when I was too small to fight back. And there was no one to rescue me. No one knew. I preferred they didn’t. How would I explain what men & father figures, real & imagined, had done to me & would continue doing until I was almost not a teenager any longer.

I was growing into an immature adult child that knew nothing about life except abuse, hunger, neglect & sex. Not real sex with love & tenderness involved. I am talking about force. Rape. Having someone, anyone, I might not even know them but my father did. He knew them all. And one was my oldest brother. They would all force themselves on an unaccepting target, aiming with their pricks to score their goals & leave their disgusting mess behind. I was punished if anyone was not satisfied. You don’t want to know who or what the punishment was.

My secret for now.

Until I am able to see you, I really do miss you terribly.

Fondly,

Madison

@>-;–

© Madison Taylor 2008

“I think writing really helps you heal yourself. I think if you write long enough, you will be a healthy person. That is, if you write what you need to write, as opposed to what will make money, or what will make fame.“ — Alice Walker

Somewhere In Time – Composer John Barry

Red Calla Lily Aranal Flower

Red Calla Lily Aranal Flower

“A Dream

The beginning always starts out

With a dream.

It is all a dream

In our own nightmares”

— Madison Taylor

negative of le chateau de rocher by j. kiley (c) jennifer kiley 2013Le Chateau de Rocher [Home to Madison & Scottie – their Cats & daughter Alison. She has her own place on the estate

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 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

Private Writings: Chapter #22 — Outraged Fortune

private writings to a psychoanalyst (c) Jk 2013
Private Writings: Chapter #22 — Outraged Fortune
Written by Jennifer Kiley
Illustrated by j. kiley
Published Introduction & Chapter #1 On 19th March 2013
Published Early Tuesday AM
Posted On 20th August 2013
WARNING: ADULT LANGUAGE AND CONTENT.
NOT SUITABLE FOR CHILDREN.

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

Private Writings: Chapter #22 — Outraged Fortune

Tuesday 19th February 2008

Annie,

You would be proud of me today, Annie. I finally stood up to Dr. George in a once-and-for-all confrontation. I told him off during our private session. The usual mood of unrest was between us. But today the hostility seemed more heightened. The session started almost immediately with animosity. I spoke honestly about my feelings regarding a specific group member who I felt had been treating me with contempt and judgement. She’d made it impossible for me to feel safe and supported in the group especially by Dr. George.

Other members of the group were contemptuous toward me, also, with two exceptions. Kristina was one women who supports me and the other woman is you, Annie. I must tell you, I am so grateful to you for standing by me, helping me feel some sense of security. Well, for some time in our private sessions, whenever I was honest about how a group member made me feel, he would say I was being critical and always come to their defense, without any words of support for me. Not even to say I’d made good observations, maybe we should talk about why I felt that way. What specifically is it they do that bothers me. Instead he would tell me my reality was imaginary. He told me my feelings were inappropriate and I was overreacting. What I thought was happening wasn’t remotely close to accurate. He accused me of delusional, irrational thinking.

Well, I tried to be reasonable and told him specifics of a particular day. I was exacting in detail of what was said and how. I held nothing back. My angry persona was fed up with my therapist’s bullshit and let him have it full force. I told him this group member was racist, homophobic, classist and her language was disgraceful, calling lesbians and gay men, derogatory terms, and with black people, she used the ”N” word. People who didn’t have her wealth, they were beneath her and didn’t deserve to live. I am holding back and being rather kind describing her language and the way she thought about and acted toward others.

He told me I was cruel and used unimaginable criticisms. That was enough for me. All those years of therapy holding back the anger sent my angry persona flying into an extremely powerful rage, telling Dr. George to go fuck himself. It didn’t matter it was Angie who was the center of the emotional storm setting off the rage and the insulting behavior of Dr. George. She was dead and possibly murdered, but delicacy, when it concerned Angie, meant nothing to me. For years Angie had been treating me like shit. Mourning her loss did not fit when I felt such loathing for her. Yes. I knew her children didn’t deserve the pain, but maybe they were lucky to be out from under her influence. Please don’t feel I went too far saying those words. Enduring this monster from Hell for too many years, has been an act of punishment for the entire group.

Dr. George couldn’t stop himself. A sign he was losing his professionalism completely. He repeated his words, I was cruel and unfeeling, calling me the monster. I lost it. My limit had been reached of what I would take from him. My angry persona went into a blinding rage and did something we hadn’t done since we were young. We pushed our body out of our chair, crossed to his office door, opened it and walked through it. With the greatest of forward motion, using all our strength, we slammed his door as hard as our strength would allow, sending an echoing of splintering wood throughout the clinic. I preceded to walk vigorously through the halls proceeded to the Clinic exit, leaving the building swiftly, knowing I had no intention of returning.

You will hear about my indiscretion, I am sure and it will be a biased version told by my ex-fucked-up doctor. I hear his words now saying I was disrespectful of him and of Angie’s memory. I tell you the truth, Annie. Angie was a terrible person. No one liked her, she was intimidating. Dr. George will tell everyone at the morning meeting I am having a mental meltdown, adding I said horrible things about Angie, I am crazy, unbalanced, delusional, irrational, a touch mad or crazy, whichever you prefer. I am none of these. Dr. George is the one who fits this description. Standing up for myself, I would say I am a complicated and have lived a rather colourful and traumatizing life,and someone who needs the assistance of psychotherapy to help me through the mix up, fucked up feelings crashing around in my brain.

I am depressed half the time and so fucking moody, anxious, suicidal on a regular basis but then the opposite. I float high and creativity floods my mind. Time stops. I move through space alone. The Universe is mine. It’s a grand and bloody good high. A no drug zone.

What a liberating experience, finally standing up to Dr. George. He’s been draining my soul of energy from the start. I had to find the force in myself to get past his influence. I know you’re thinking or I’m projecting thoughts onto you, ‘Why did I stay with him?’ Fear. Fear of finding the truth. Would I lose control. Go over the edge if I entered the real world. I felt I needed the familiarity of being destroyed by someone in authority. Dr. George was the perfect fit.

Started with my parents, family and abusers rolled into a perfect trauma circle, followed by bosses, but then came college and I thought I was released. College was an experience outside of time. I was stoned most of my waking hours. I even had an affair with the husband of one of my professors. I didn’t want to have sex with him. I hate sex. I hate it more with men. I didn’t want sex with him. It’s part of what is wrong with me. In college, I met my first real love. A woman of high intelligence and a sense of humour I couldn’t resist. Her opening comment to me, something so simple: “Do you have the notes for the last Western Civ class?” I turned around to see whose face went with the voice, the sensual sound that woke me from my fog. “Why, yes I do.”

“Did you study for the test?” Her next question. Of course, I had. I was one of those students who were always prepared and didn’t have to make an effort or more like didn’t want to make an effort because it all came too easily for me. It fucks you up, you know, to be that way. You miss out on the connection to what you’re learning. Now I concentrate and dig into what I want to learn. Now, I want to understand.

After we got to know each other, she told me, honestly, she thought I was a snob before she first approached me. Me. I’m an extremely shy introvert, yes, but not a snob. More afraid to talk students. Chose to hang out with professors, instead. They were easier to talk to. Once this female student and I got to know one another, we became inseparable. A growing friendship we could acknowledge but nothing more that was between us. It would have been too much for both of us. But love did happen. The lover came out in both of us during a stoned and wine induced high. My response to her saying we needed some guys to have sex was and I quote: “Why do we need men?”

It was the night I drove out some demons temporarily. Love happened there. It was the highest high. So, that was what was missing, I was/am a lesbian. Now, don’t misunderstand. It isn’t that easy. She left for another college, the transfer went through a short time later. I went into a deep depression. Dropped acid. Wanted to kill myself and my life suddenly took a totally new fork in the pathway to my future.

Now, before I close this letter out, I want to mention something about ‘Brief Sacrifice.’ Carter, through the clues, had found the passage on page 62, in the book ‘Somewhere In Time,’ that James, one of her three Savannah cats, the other two were Jasper and Jax, had led her to. This week James points out further information to break the code to open the leather briefcase. There is a number dial on the front of the briefcase on the flap locking it shut. There were, also, instructions on what to read in ‘Somewhere In Time.’ A certain passage was necessary to help understand the meaning for opening the briefcase. The meaning regards what’s contained inside what is inside the briefcase. The double inside meaning is there is a triple layer to penetrate to get to the contents. Once the contents are revealed, the real mystery will begin.

The passage is a long mantra needing to be memorized after being read and repeated until its effects transport you. It is self-explanatory. Carter opens up ‘Somewhere In Time’ looking for what the clue wants her to find. It, also, states once the passage is discovered it needs to be altered according to what the contents in the inside of the inside secret reveals. Those contents will explain what the alteration should be. For now it is just necessary to locate the passage, read it, write it down and then memorize it completely as if it were your life mantra for meditation.

The passage is found on page 95 and reads as follows: “[Some parts I will omit because of length but will include those which make sense of what is being said in Richard Collier’s mind.] It’s Thursday, November 19, 1896. You’re lying on your bed in Room 527, eyes closed. The sun has gone down and it’s dark out. Night is falling on this Thursday at the Hotel del Coronado: Thursday, November 19, 1896. The lights are being turned on in the hotel now. The light fixtures are for both gas and electricity but the gas is not used…”

“…At this moment, every room is heated by a fireplace. This room, 527, is being heated by a fireplace. At this moment in the darkness of this Thursday, November 19, 1896, a fire is burning in the hearth across from you; crackling softly, sending waves of heat into the room, illuminating it with firelight…”

“…Elise McKenna is in the hotel at this very moment; perhaps in the theatre checking some detail of her production…scheduled for tomorrow night…So, too, is her manager, William Fawcett Robinson. So, too, her acting company. All their rooms are being heated by fireplaces; as is this room, Room 527, on the late afternoon of Thursday, November 19, 1896…”

“You’re lying quietly, at peace, your eyes closed, in this room in 1896, November 19, 1896…Soon you will get up and leave the room and find Elise McKenna. Soon you will open your eyes on this dark afternoon in November 1896 and walk into the corridor and go downstairs and find Elise McKenna. She is in the hotel now. At this very moment. Because it is November 19, 1896. November 19, 1896.”
(And so on, for another twenty pages,)

Richard Collier’s thoughts: ‘I’m thinking more and more of the fact that, in going back, I am to be the cause of the tragedy which fills this face; I have her photograph in front of me on the writing table. Have I a right to do this to her? I know I have already done it. Yet, there again, increasingly, I sense a variable factor in the past as well as in the future. I don’t know why I feel it but I do. A feeling that I have a choice of not going back if I wish. I feel this intensely.’

“What do you suppose this means, James, Jasper. What about you, Jax? Wouldn’t you go back if you had the chance. He, obviously, is drawn to her. She wouldn’t have appeared to him before she dies if she didn’t want the experience. Right? But what is all this saying to us? Are we somehow going to find something to do with time travel in all this mystery? What if it is? What would we do with it? Well, actually, there are many things I would like to discover. There are many mysteries that have never been solved or resolved in an honest way. If someone went to the past, they could watch as history unfolds. Secrets hidden away. Never solved deaths. It all intrigues me. I know there are a list of mysteries. To find out the real truth. Hmm. How many lies have we been given in place of the truth.”

“Let’s try those numbers and letters you figured out James. I want to see if they work. What’s inside and inside what is inside of this briefcase, has me going mad. Come on, guys, first number is 7. [Carter rolls the dial to the 7.] The next number is 49. [Carter rolls the next dial around to 49.] What is next James? The number is 3. [Carter repeats the motion to 3.] Next up is a letter. What is it, please. The letter is ‘J’ capitalized. [Carter goes to the next set of dials and takes the first one to the letter ‘J.’] Next letter is a capital ‘E.’ [Carter takes the dial to the capital ‘E.’] What is the last letter, James? We are almost there. The letter is the capital letter ‘N.’ [Carter slowly roles the dial delicately, so no error is made. She stops when the capital ‘N’ comes up.] Okay, guys, here is what we have been working towards. Are you three ready to find out if we did it right? Or more excited that we did and we are about to open this leather beauty and discover the hidden treasure. Okay, slide the lever over. Please release the lock. Just please let’s hear a click and release.”

Carter slid the lever to the left and in a split second the sound of silence, listening. Did it click? “YES!!! Boys, the lock opened. Flip the flap over and open the briefcase, right now.” The flap gracefully fell back over to the other side of the briefcase and the mouth opened. The insides were opened. Now time to look inside. Carter and James, Jasper and Jax all gathered round. Carter pulled back the opening and reached inside to bring out the contents. In her hand she held a sleek silver case 3 inches high, 7 inches wide, and 5 inches deep. Placing it gently on the coffee table, Carter and her boys just stared at what lay before them. It glistened. The silver was shiny like a highly polished magic mirror. Everything in the room reflected off of its surface.

What to do next. How were they going to open this silver box? There were no seams. No lock. The surface was totally smooth, as though it was melded into its shape. It was light, Carter told her babies. “Whatever it contains holds some powerful magic. I am sure it is hollow and something is hidden within that holds great power. Look at the clues. We will find a way inside. We will learn the mystery of this mini-monolith of unyielding precious silver. We look to you James. You probably already know what we are looking at. You are looking through it into its mystery. You know. I can tell. It is in your glistening eyes. When ever you are ready, James.”

Carter smiled. They made a huge pile in Carter’s lap for a group hug of fur and flesh blending in warmth and love, sprinkled with a sliver of curiosity.

And so ends the tale today.

At least, I have my storytelling to escape into, Annie. Murder. Rejection. Madness. Scottie is back but is sleeping right now. I haven’t talked to her yet about Dr. George. She will laugh, I am certain. Her relief will shine all over her face. Ideas of ways to rid me of Dr. George have been circling her mind almost from the day I walked into his office. I stopped writing for a time after I started seeing him. He really sucked the soul right out of me. So does his supervisor, Dr. Reagan, my psychiatrist. She either enjoys conflict or she has no idea what she is talking about. I’ve always wondered about all those multiple degrees on the walls of professionals. They are paper without a story. Written up shortly after someone offers up proof they did their dissertations and a certain number of hours treating patients at a crazy institute. The keepers are the crazy ones and the inmates are their captors.

I hope you are not like any of the others I’ve seen. They fucked with my mind. Some I fell in love with or had crushes on. It was those who thought they would bond and then rip my heart out by leaving before my time was up for needing them. It all sucks but I am afraid I am addicted to the process. It is my faith or belief system. Looking inside to see the bigger picture. The universe or Goddess or the Matrix is connected through the insides of us all. We know or try to find out the secrets or a clue that might help make dying and our soul leaving us not such a terrifying thought. We know it is an eventual experience. Is it really our soul to begin with or to end with?

Until next time. I miss you. I need you to take care of me for a while. Guide me in a direction that points to a better place to live inside myself. You are what I have and need now.

Fondly & Needing You,
Madison

Sets & Animals for Film: Brief Sacrifice with Lead Character CARTER MCLEOD. [Portrayed by BAFTA Nominated Actor NATALIE STEPHENS] Savannah Cats are Carter’s. Screenplay: MADISON TAYLOR. Director: SCOTTIE ANDREWS Production Co.: INFINITE IMAGINATIONS, INC. [TRIPLE III] {Madison Taylor & Scottie Andrews Formed Their Production Co. 10 year ago in 1997.}

'Brief Sacrifice' English Garden 734x492

‘Brief Sacrifice’ English Garden

Brief Sacrifice film Savannah cats---Jasper & Jax when 10 week old kittens

Brief Sacrifice film Savannah cats—Jasper & Jax when 10 week old kittens

'Brief Sacrifice' Film Set Library 626x626

‘Brief Sacrifice’ Film Set Library

Every Detail in the Two Story Living Room Is Done with Precision from the Crown Moldings to the Carvings on the Fireplace  800x600

Every Detail in the Two Story Living Room Is Done with Precision from the Crown Moldings to the Carvings on the Fireplace

Edelweiss   674x587

Edelweiss

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

Dr. Annie Haskell’s Office as a Psychoanalyst

Somewhere In Time – John Barry

rain in garden gif
Deeper Clarity
Written by Madison Taylor
Monday 19th February 2008

Deeper clarity
Opens my eyes so I might see
The world I live in
How it surrounds and grounds
Further inside of me
Where I cannot touch the way it feels
The numbness cuts out the things not so real
What I love seems to feel lost
Disconnected from the center
Wandering blindly in search of meaning

Invisible sight beyond clarity
Lead me to the obscurity of lose
Where is the understanding?
What holds a world together?
Appearing as a disintegrating edifice
Of unrecognizable signs of life
Meaning is lost
Unable to grasp a hold of security
Drowning from lack of contact
It disappears

With it I follow into invisibility
The universe is disappearing
Usually stated ‘before my eyes’
But without feeling
The touch of anything
Makes transparent
All physical reality
No senses to perceive a truth
No truth to acknowledge existence
Lost in the desert of sand and wind

Nothing recognizable
Blown away with the last breath
Dreams are forgotten
Did they ever exist?
Or were they made up and destroyed
All in one instant
Never established as possible
Or real
Just pretend as children do
The sky is blue

As for a reflection of the ocean
Why then is the ocean blue?
But from a reflection from the sky
They echo each other’s reality
Which makes me think
We are all mirrors reflected images
Repetitions of all existence
Bringing the conclusion
We all are one
In a reflection of a continuous one

And what gives the one meaning?
Isn’t a connection to something
What gives something meaning?
Are we all a dream
In one mind
Played out on a stage
Of an imaginary universe?
Does this bring clarity
Or more confusion?
Where is the understanding?

Where is the meaning?
What is the purpose of it all?
Why are we here? Now?
Or at any time?
Slipping into the dark hole
The proverbial black hole
Where darkness takes hold
Sight isn’t necessary
Nothing there to be seen
Holding a physical dimension

A magnetic union
A force powerful enough
To pull you away from reality
And higher ground
Losing the controls
Battling is futile
Surrender is necessary
Tripping over boulders of truth
Gripping hold of anything solid
While the quicksand pulls at you

Trapping you without warning
All the meaning is evaporating
Clarity is lost in a mind shut down
Bipolar twisting as a tornado
The magnetic force failing
Depression is in full control
Must go with its commands
Fighting is resistance inside out
No strength remains
The power is drained

Where once there was joy
Now there sits despair
No one cares to be scared
It is buried too deep to remove
The mind is on its own
It has no power here
To analyze a solution
Surrendering on one’s own terms
Nothing acceptable but waiting
Lasting till the emotional storm passes

Eventually-level ground returns
Back to self with reality in place
Black holes out of reach
From sucking the soul
Right out of the body
Whole again
Sane again
Resurfacing to regularly scheduled channels
Illusions escape my memory
Realness of truth restored.

© madison taylor 2008

Messed Mindscape  808x608

Messed Mindscape

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

english garden off the back marble patio  972x732

English garden off the back marble patio

Patrick when he was five weeks. He is a Bengal kitten. Madison gave to Scottie as a present for her Birthday. As he grows he becomes devoted to her.

Patrick when he was five weeks. He is a Bengal kitten. Madison gave to Scottie as a present for her Birthday. As he grows he becomes devoted to her.

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

Patrick is our Bengal cat in tree. It is protected area. Patrick cannot leave property from there. He loves Scottie. They are buddies.

Living Room Ope Wide with Windows

Living Room Open Wide with Windows

Chateau de Rocher Art Gallery  999x752

Chateau de Rocher Art Gallery

Dreams of Elysium by Ann Marie Bone  Scottie gave this painting as a present to Madison for your Birthday. She had fallen in love with the colours and the dreamlike state she would transcned into when she meditated while gazing into it  900x669

Dreams of Elysium by Ann Marie Bone Scottie gave this painting as a present to Madison for her Birthday. She had fallen in love with the colours and the dreamlike state she would transcend into when she meditated while gazing into it.

Bedroom Madison and Scottie Share with High Windows --- Great During Thunderstorms & Rain

Bedroom Madison and Scottie Share with High Windows — Great During Thunderstorms & Rain

Glass Ceiling  3977x2848

Glass Ceiling

play is not just play meryl streep

Private Writings: Chapter #21 — Affair to Forget

private writings to a psychoanalyst (c) Jk 2013
Private Writings: Chapter #21 — Affair to Forget
Written by Jennifer Kiley
Illustrated by j. kiley
Introduction & Chapter #1 Published 19th March 2013
Published Early Tuesday AM
Posted On 13th August 2013
WARNING: ADULT LANGUAGE AND CONTENT.
NOT SUITABLE FOR CHILDREN.

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

Private Writings: Chapter #21 — Affair to Forget

Tuesday 12th February 2008

Annie,

It has been released, Angie’s death was not from natural causes. The determination has not ruled in or out suicide or a possible murder. Her husband has been taken to the police station for questioning and some time this week they are going to question people from the Mental Health Clinic of Beverly Hills, where she was being treated as an out-patient. Well, that was pretty vague. We don’t know any more than we did last week. We do know her husband is a possible suspect in her death but no formal charges have been made.

I wonder if it will come out she was having an affair with Dr. George. Now, I think she was. Dr. George accused me of telling everyone he was having an affair. Now, who could that person have been but Angie. He is always defending her. Every one saw how he treated her in group and after. They were always flirting. It was impossible not to notice. Dr. George, I think found the pressure became too much. Maybe he killed her.

My theory is, he wanted to end it. She didn’t and threatened him with exposure. That would have been his career. If she threatened him, saying she would to go to Head of the Clinic, Dr. George would be fired if this came out. He couldn’t let that happen. Off with her head. Add to that, the pressure between us was growing, when it came to his lack of support. He kept denying my sense of reality about my feelings. He told me I was imagining things. When I told him certain people I felt were treating me like shit. He told me I was delusional. My perceptions weren’t accurate at all. He wanted me to think I was crazy. His defense of other group members rather than supporting me was driving me crazy. It made the rage build inside of me. What I was feeling started not to make sense. I began to think I was imagining what I was feeling.

But then I would realize, ‘Wait a minute. This is so fucked up. He’s lying to me. I am right about what I feel. He is trying to make me doubt myself.’ It was a constant battle trying to get him to understand how group was effecting me. It was becoming a toxic place. I didn’t feel safe there or with him. There were only a few people I felt I could trust. One of them was Kristina, the other person is you, Annie. When you intercede I feel supported. But why was he trying to fuck with my mind? Only thing that came up, he wants something concrete to hold against me. Some future time, he wants evidence in my records that are false. For whatever reason, I haven’t figured it out yet.

I am not paranoid, Annie. You will see the real me when we start meeting in private sessions. I am not crazy. There is something very wrong. I feel it. No one is telling me what it is. I can’t figure it out yet. That’s why I need your help. Who I am is really confusing to me. I need someone without an agenda to help me. What’s going on inside of me? Do you have any idea? That’s what I need you help me understand.

Dr. George and the psychiatrist I see are fucking with my mind and have been for years. She keeps forcing pills on me I don’t want to take, that give me brain fog. I refuse to take them. The pills stopped abruptly, not with her approval. I went cold. Literally, and the reverb from the withdrawal was really nasty. If I think about it, that’s when everything started to change.

Dr. George became hostile. Dr. Reagan freaked her freak and flipped out on me. She is one angry bitch. The lecture has lasted from day one of ‘stop the drugs I want to get off’ and hasn’t stopped since. I keep telling her I just need some good medicinal marijuana for stress, my racing thoughts and my frenetic energy. Plus all the other things going through my body and mind. Sometimes I can go for days, if I am on a tear with a film script, I can write straight through the days. She thinks I’m doing coke. Told her no way, I don’t need coke. I am naturally high.

We need to work on this. I hate seeing her. She keeps telling me my symptoms of depression and feeling suicidal are caused by what happened to me when I was a child. I don’t think so. And I tell her she is wrong. But she won’t listen to me, no matter what I say. But fuck that. I don’t want to think about any of those fucking people.

Be gone from my mind. Let me mellow and tell you what is going to happen next in Brief Sacrifice, it is way cool, I promise you. You are going to have your mind blown away at what’s going to be coming at you. The wildest idea hit me as I was writing this script. Flashes of insight and magical thoughts danced across my mind. It is so far out what I came up with as the secret mystery. You are going to love it.

But take it slow, I don’t want to reveal too much. Today, I will tell you enough to hold you until next time. Time travel is the key. That we began to establish in the last letter. It’s what will occur to cause this to happen. Carter and her three giant Savannah cats, Jasper, Jax and James are all excited. Their discovery was too good to be true. What it meant wasn’t exactly clear. Carter spoke to the boys, “I don’t know what this means, but if somehow we are this close to uncovering something to do with time travel, I am going to find a way for all of us to be part of it. Now, boys, lets get working on solving the rest of this puzzle of a code. I want inside of this brief case. There is something hiding in there we need to get at. It holds the other half of the mystery. One hell of a mystery.”

James used his psychic right paw to keep pointing out letters and numbers in specific order and Carter, his mum, kept writing down the code in the order he wanted it to be recorded. They were determined to crack at least the order in which all the numbers and letters fit together. Carter has the book Somewhere In Time sitting on the coffee table near the briefcase, just waiting to use it when the time came to decipher the complete code.

Last time the title was revealed from the initials S.I.T. to be Somewhere In Time. The other initials were R.M., which stood for the name of the author of the book Richard Matheson. Then there was the number 62. Carter felt that was most likely a page number but she forgot to check that out. And now suddenly, it dawns on her as she is recording the other code in order of James’ psychic paw, that she should be looking up that page number 62 to see what is written there and to see if it will help with the rest of the code.

“What is the matter with me boys?” Carter proclaimed loudly. “I forgot about the 62. Now all these other numbers and the letters E.M and R.C., they have to be initials. The numbers more page numbers. Also, somewhere in there in the code is the combination to open the briefcase and is telling us something about whats inside of it.”

“So lets take a break and let me check that out right now. This very moment. All things must stop.”

Carter picked up the book Somewhere In Time and opened it to page 62 and looked at it. This is what came to her attention almost immediately: [excerpts from Somewhere In Time by Richard Matheson]

“The stage is her life, her close friends always said. Love-making is not for her. Yet once, to me, in an unguarded moment, a moment never again repeated, she hinted that there had been someone. As she spoke of it, I saw, within her eyes, a tragic light I’d never seen before. She gave no details beyond referring to it, with a sad smile, as ‘My Coronado scandal.’”

It did happen here then.

*** *** ***

The final chapter; on her death. I feel a crushing weight inside me.
Quote: “She died of a heart attack in October 1953 after—”

“—after attending a party at Stephens College, Columbia, Missouri, where she had taught dramatics for a number of years.”

She and I were in the same location once before then.
But at the same time.

Why do I feel so strange?

Her dying words are quoted. No one, says the author, ever understood the significance.
“And love, most sweet.”

What does that remind me of?

A Christian Science hymn. Except the words are: “And life, most sweet, as heart to heart, speaks kindly when we meet and part.”
Oh, dear God.

I think I was at that party.

I think I saw her.

I’m having trouble breathing. There’s a pulsing at my temples, at my wrists. My head feels numb.
Did it really happen?

Yes; I was there. I know it. It was after a play at Stephens. My date and I were at a party for the cast.
And I recall her saying … I can’t recall her face or her name, yet I recall her words….
“You have an admirer, Richard.”
I looked across the room … there was an old woman sitting on a sofa with some girls.

Looking at me.

Oh, dear Lord, it couldn’t have been.

Why was that woman looking at me then?

As if she knew me.

Why?

Was that the night Elise McKenna died?

Was that old woman really her?

I’m looking at the photograph again.

Elise. Oh, God; Elise.

Did I put that look on your face?

*** *** ***

…All right, she looked at me as though she knew me. I reminded her of someone, that’s all. Of the man she’d known here.

…Why in November?

Why in the very week that she was here? … Why did I see that photograph? Why did it move me so? Why did I fall in love with her, begin to read about her?

Was it me?

*** *** ***

…Yet that single item seems larger every time I think about it: that she looked at me as though she knew me and, that very night, died of a heart attack.
A sudden thought. Why didn’t she speak to me?

Don’t be ridiculous. How could she? In her late eighties, talk to a boy not yet twenty about a love they might have shared fifty-seven years before?
If it had been me, I would have done the same thing: remained silent, then died.

…If I really did all this, wouldn’t it be kinder not to go back? Then her life would go on, undisturbed.

…How casually I sit here talking about changing history.

…I’ve read these books.
What was done to her has already been done.
Therefore, I have no choice.
I must go back.

…Don’t confuse me with facts, Collier. At least, not with facts that prove it can’t be done. What I have to fill my head with now are facts which prove it can be done.

Where do I find those facts though?

*** *** ***

…There are many possibilities…her favorite music in my head, her favorite wine trickling down my throat…learn about the time I mean to circumvent.
And all of this here. In this hotel. This precise location where, seventy-five years distant, even as I speak these words, Elise McKenna breathes and moves.

*** *** ***

The Priestley Book

First chapters not helpful.

Part Two: “The Ideas of Time.”
I’ve been reading and taking notes for hours…
I can’t stop, though. I have to learn all I can so I can discover the way to get back to her. Desire is an obvious key. But there must be some technique, some method. I have yet to find that.
But I will, Elise.

*** *** ****

THURSDAY,NOVEMBER 19, 1896/HOTEL DEL CORONADO/E.S.BABCOCK, MANAGER/CORONADO,CALIFORNIA

It was the third name down.
R.C. Collier, Los Angeles, Room 350, 9:18 A.M.

*** *** ***
to be continued [end of excerpts from Somewhere In Time by Richard Matheson]

“This is all amazing kids. Time traveling back to someone you have fallen in love with through seeing a photograph on the wall. I know what happens. It is so romantic but I don’t want to get ahead. We are focusing on time travel. What it means has me very excited about finding out how to get into this brief case. And I know the key to Richard Collier getting back in time is important to understand. After we crack the book, lets have a look at the film. That might spark something in my mind. Besides, I love Somewhere In Time. Christopher Reeve and Jane Seymour are like magic.”

Jasper, Jax and James snuggle into their mum’s body, purring away. All are feeling satisfied.

Annie, I know this is away from the film I wrote but there is something I need to talk to you about privately. Somehow. we need to find a quiet moment where I can confide in you a secret that will blow everything wide open. I will wait patiently. You will be my psychoanalyst very soon. Sooner then even I had predicted.

We really do need to talk. Until next time.

Fondly & Needing You,
Madison

Sets & Animals for Film: Brief Sacrifice with Lead Character CARTER MCLEOD. [Portrayed by BAFTA Nominated Actor NATALIE STEPHENS] Savannah Cats are Carter’s. Screenplay: MADISON TAYLOR. Director: SCOTTIE ANDREWS Production Co.: INFINITE IMAGINATIONS, INC. [TRIPLE III] {Madison Taylor & Scottie Andrews Formed Their Production Co. 10 year ago in 1997.}

'Brief Sacrifice' English Garden 734x492

‘Brief Sacrifice’ English Garden

Open White Kitchen  796x862

Open White Kitchen

Carter McLeod's Study with Her Laptop Black Desk Library  800x600

Carter McLeod’s Study with Her Laptop Black Desk Library

'Brief Sacrifice Savannah Cat Jasper Lounging on Carter's Desk Chair

‘Brief Sacrifice Savannah Cat Jasper Lounging on Carter’s Desk Chair

'Brief Sacrifice' Film Set Library 626x626

‘Brief Sacrifice’ Film Set Library

Every Detail in the Two Story Living Room Is Done with Precision from the Crown Moldings to the Carvings on the Fireplace  800x600

Every Detail in the Two Story Living Room Is Done with Precision from the Crown Moldings to the Carvings on the Fireplace

'Brief Sacrifice' Film Set Bedroom Carter McLeod's Mansion

‘Brief Sacrifice’ Film Set Bedroom Carter McLeod’s Mansion

Blue Anemone

Blue Anemone

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

Dr. Annie Haskell’s Office as a Psychoanalyst

Somewhere In Time – John Barry

rain in garden gif

Spirits Killed Through Lies
Written by Madison Taylor
11th February 2008

Denying tested truth
In place spewing forth lies
Protectors of sanity
Causing insane thoughts
To pass through
The trusting soul
Gullible
Innocent
Lying repeatedly
Weakens the resolve
Breaks it not into pieces
Cracks the surface
Into resonating grains
Abstract images forming
Mind perceiving blackness
White attempts covering the ebony
Lines of string crusted white
Blinding the darkness
So only the light is capable of sight

When asked
Avoided colours of white
Submit alternative black lies
Arresting the innocence
Locking it in darkest of dungeons
Confusing the frustration
Existing in delusions
Inside the innocent
Trusting mind
Conflicting the evidence

Appearances of evil
In the degrees
Inside the head
The processes clash
Echoing loudly in disturbance
A differently acknowledged reality
Consistent evidence forging the surface
Raging against the lies with knowledge
Proving regularly the lies
Yet surrendering the sense of real
To those who should know
But cheat using their authority

Confrontation
Makes black stronger than white
Black overwhelming light
Darkness overpowering truth
Blotting out senses of reality
Eventually the infection bursts open
The growing tumour is exposed
The professionals are trapped
Their lies contagion
Finally revealed

Tumbling off the mountain
Pushing unnecessary
Edges fall away
Sheep lose footing
Following the others
Crashing into the waves
Of the angry sea
Washing away
Out into the whirlpool
Sucked to the bottom
Of the darkest sea
Ending the lies
Forever

© madison taylor 2008

“The Urge To Destroy Is Creative.”

Anunciata --- Watercolour on Paper

Anunciata — Watercolour on Paper

Evanescence — The Other Side

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

english garden off the back marble patio  972x732

English garden off the back marble patio

Patrick when he was five weeks. He is a Bengal kitten. Madison gave to Scottie as a present for her Birthday. As he grows he becomes devoted to her.

Patrick when he was five weeks. He is a Bengal kitten. Madison gave to Scottie as a present for her Birthday. As he grows he becomes devoted to her.

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

Patrick is our Bengal cat in tree. It is protected area. Patrick cannot leave property from there. He loves Scottie. They are buddies.

Living Room Ope Wide with Windows

Living Room Open Wide with Windows

Bright Kitchen  3456x2304

Bright Kitchen

Bedroom Madison and Scottie Share with High Windows --- Great During Thunderstorms & Rain

Bedroom Madison and Scottie Share with High Windows — Great During Thunderstorms & Rain

Glass Ceiling  3977x2848

Glass Ceiling

Awesome lighted treehouse on the estate of chateau de rocher  642x432

Awesome lighted tree-house on the estate of Chateau de Rocher. A place of escape for Madison. She liked to run away when she was a kid. Climbing trees were her favorite places to hide. Scottie had this built for Madison as their 10th Anniversary present.

play is not just play meryl streep

Motion Set At Confusion

Motion Set At Confusion
Written By Jennifer Kiley
Written On 9th August 2013
Post Created by Jk the secret keeper
Illustrated by j. kiley
Post Created Friday 9th August 2013
Posted on Saturday 10th August
POETRY OUT LOUD

Abstract Fluid Acrylic Art by Mark Chadwick 855x960

Abstract Fluid Acrylic Art by Mark Chadwick

Motion Set At Confusion
By Jennifer Kiley
9th August 2013

Motion set at confusion
Blurring the thinker
With muddled perceptions
Visions not thought
Before clouding
The mind with fog
Opening doors
With no key holes
Entering rooms
Hiding memories

In stubbornness to be right
Distortions are recalled
Jumbled up feelings
Planting false senses
No attachments involved
Realities not real
Start stalking the truth
Hunting down lies
Destruction invented in minds

Vacate my head
Decease planting false visions
Leave reality alone
It belongs only to one
Desist in tampering
Playing psychic doctor
Credentials exceed limits
In this territory

Strength must be found
Undoing the damage caused
Tampering with beliefs
Complicate insecurities
With lies to protect lies
Begin the game of sacrifice
Trampling a person’s sanity
Darkness is blind evil
Match up exceeds power
Challenge has been accepted
Lost by resignation

Finally know identity
Words never can touch one
Whose strength exceeds any power of influence
Traps were set and sprung
Tested theories so weak
Allowed to enter the psyche
Chancing potential damage
Rescued before lies were set in stone
Fooling is not within power
Don’t see identity
Beyond authority
Power’s expanse
Its scope reaches farther limits
Will never touch with weakness

Power has been rejuvenated
After experiment failed to take hold
Bait was wasted
Practice on the weak
Shame on demonic demonstrations
The craven need for power
For total control
Letting go of the need to hold tight
Freedom is so much more enticing and inviting
The soul when free gives more to the dreamer
Without dreams are the broken ones
Healing and will continue to grow and heal
A continuous process learned through accepting
The serendipity of life and releasing the stronghold of death

When death comes will float into the ether
Until then will freely live life
Accept identity
All of one
Share with those love and trust
Love that grows within
That surrounds with sweetness
And renewal
Animals are the renewal of all things
The universe is a playground
Being alive
Accepting imperfections
Stop trying to steal identity
No longer welcome
In this world
It is over
Go away
Join the harmful ones
Trying to steal the innocent in all of us
You are a member of that gang now
Going to leave on life’s journey
You are not invited

© jennifer kiley 2013

“To Create Is To Destroy.”
— Jennifer Kiley-Letters of Import

Flamme Abstrait de Couleurs par j. kiley  (c) jennifer-kiley-2013  968x863

Flamme Abstrait de Couleurs par j. kiley © jennifer kiley 2013

Didn’t Know My Own Strength — Whitney Houston

Quotation for Confusion:

“The things other people have put into my head, at any rate, do not fit together nicely, are often useless and ugly, are out of proportion with one another, are out of proportion with life as it really is outside my head.”
― Kurt Vonnegut, Breakfast of Champions

You Are Not Alone — Michael Jackson

Private Writings: Chapter #20 — No Sympathy For the Devil

private writings to a psychoanalyst (c) Jk 2013
Private Writings: Chapter #20 — No Sympathy For the Devil
Written by Jennifer Kiley
Illustrated by j. kiley
Post Created 2nd August 2013
Introduction & Chapter #1 Published 19th March 2013
Published Early Tuesday AM
Posted 6th August 2013
WARNING: ADULT LANGUAGE AND CONTENT.
NOT SUITABLE FOR CHILDREN.

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

Private Writings: Chapter #20 — No Sympathy For the Devil

“You cursed brat! Look what you’ve done! I’m melting! melting! Oh, what a world! What a world! Who would have thought a good little girl like you could destroy my beautiful wickedness? Oooooh, look out! I’m going! Oooooh! Ooooooh!” — Wicked Witch of the West

I’m Melting! – The Wizard of Oz — Movie CLIP (1939) HD

Tuesday 5th February 2008

Annie,

I can’t believe what you announced at group today. It’s a shock beyond anything expected. What the hell happened? How could one of the members of group just die. No one has any answers. Dr. George was way too silent. His strange today was more than weird. It was eery. Remember what I told you about my last session with him. A week ago, he accused me of spreading a rumour. He told me it wasn’t true and accused me of making it up to get him in trouble. First, I never spread any rumour. Secondly, I had no idea what he was talking about. He kept saying it wasn’t true. What wasn’t true?

What I can remember is, he said, I told people, what people, he was having an affair with one of his clients. I’m not even going to theorize on this one. Now a client is dead. Someone I wasn’t really friends with either. In fact, she was a major character in the destruction of my relationship with Dr. George. He was always feeling a strong need to defend her against anything I had to say about her. I will be honest with you. She was a racist, homophobic, classist, poor excuse for a human being. I didn’t like her and she could have stabbed me to death and stepped over my body without any problem.

Now she is dead. What am I suppose to feel? Sorry, I didn’t kiss her ass. Sorry, she tore me apart any chance she had an opening in group. Let me be plain with you. She was jealous of me. I think she hated it, my being a lesbian. She hated I had a partner who loved me and cared about me. And I loved Scottie just as much. She had a husband who cheated on her or just was too damn lazy to show her any romance. He took her for granted. You heard her complaints about him. Maybe he just got tired of living with her and took the easiest and fastest way out. Murder.

I know I am sounding crass but no love or tears shall I shed for her. That may make me sound heartless but it is how I feel. It, also, doesn’t make me feel so fuzzy and warm knowing each one of us are going to have to talk to the police detectives. Not something I want to do in person. A good British detective mystery is my cup of tea but a brash and possible homicide in the old USA is not thrilling at all.

It doesn’t appear anyone knows what happened. I do feel sorry for her children. Don’t know them but they must be hurting. Trying to draw on some empathy and sympathy for her friends in the group. And Dr. George, I am beginning to get a bad feeling about him. He is going down. Meltdown, that is. Mentally, I think he has been losing it slowly for months now. This is just going to make him completely lose it. His pet is dead. What will he do now? I didn’t see him today in session. His receptionist called and cancelled our session but still kept my appointment set for next week.

Changing subject now. Angie’s death is creeping me out. Death is scary enough but having sat in the same room for many years doing therapy and a group member, like or not like, dies suddenly, no cause of death released as of yet, is just too much to take in. I need to fantasize.

How about just a touch on Brief Sacrifice? Where we left off in the screenplay, which is included in the film, Jame’s a Savannah cat belonging to Carter McLeod, author extraordinaire, has stumbled on the beginning of the solution to a riddle with a mystery attached. No one knew how to solve the code yet. Jasper, Jax and James, all three of Carter’s Savannah cats were honing in on breaking part of the solution. The first three letters of the code were S.I.T. It meant something. The initial stood for something which Carter felt would help unravel the rest of the codes letters and numbers.

“Time to get back to this.” Carter told her boys. “James, do you feel any vibes coming from the jumbled numbers or the other letters?”

James placed his right paw on what appeared to be a number this time. Carter took firm hold of his paw and lifted it. Underneath was the number 62. “What does number 62 mean? What does S.I.T. and 62 have in common?”

“James are you getting anything else? Maybe a word or name. Anything at all that makes sense.”

James reached out his right paw and places it over two different letters, the letter ‘R’ and the letter ‘M.’ When he seemed finished he crawled into his mum’s lap waiting for his reward. Carter ran her right hand from the top of James head and slowly slid her hand down the length of his body and at the end encircled his tail, finishing her petting by sliding her closed hand all the way up to the tip of his tail and then released. James purr was a contented and satisfying sound. He actually appeared to be smiling.

“Now, let us see what we have. The number 62. The letters S.I.T. and the letters R.M. What they mean, I have no idea. Maybe we should try to google them together online and see if the internet comes up with something.”

Carter opened up her laptop. Once loaded up, she opened her browser. Clicked Google on her Toolbar. The page was open to search. Carter typed in all the clues so far and waited while Google responded.

“Well, that can’t be right. Route 62 or Rotten Tomatoes review of I Heart Huckabees. That cannot possibly be right. Maybe if I enter each one separately. That’s how you gave them to us, James. Let’s give it another try.”

Once again Carter entered the first clue, but this time asked it a question about the letters. Are they initials for the title of a book or of a famous person? The S.I.T stands for the title of the book Somewhere In Time and the initials R.M. are the author’s name, Richard Matheson. A short synopsis, she reads aloud to her boys.

Somewhere in Time is the unforgettable story of a love that transcends the boundaries of time. Richard Collier, a man of the modern era, becomes obsessed with a woman of another time, a celebrated actress at the turn of the century. His fascination with Elise McKenna proves strong enough to physically transport him back to 1896, where he meets and woos the woman of his dreams. But for how long can their passion resist the relentless tide of history? Somewhere in Time inspired a 1980 film starring Christopher Reeve and Jane Seymour that has become a genuine cult classic.”

“I know that movie. I love that movie. It is so romantic. I’ve seen it so many times. Why didn’t the letters click in my brain right away. James, I think you are onto something here. First thing, we need to do is get a copy of Somewhere In Time. I would wager the number 62 is a page number. Let me read a bit more.”

Carter looks down the page and finds some customer reviews of the book. She looks to see if maybe she might find something helpful. “Wow! What is this about. Here is a passage from the book I don’t remember them mentioning in the film.”

“Listen, guys, let me read this to you, ‘My name is Richard Collier. I’m thirty-six years old, a television writer by profession. I’m six foot two and weigh one hundred and eighty-seven pounds.’ I’ll move ahead to the ending line that makes me feel this is rather an important point. ‘I moved to Los Angeles in 1960. My brother moved to L.A. in 1965 and I moved into the guest house behind his house the same year. I left there this morning because I’m going to die in four to six months and thought I’d write a book about it while I traveled.’ The book is about time travel. The character telling the story is going to die. Need to think, but I don’t want to jump ahead until I find out what is written on page 62. If that is what 62 means.”

James starts to purr louder and rubbing his face on his mum’s hands. “Are you telling me James, I’m thinking in the right direction?” Purring and rubbing is getting more intense from James. Carter continues to read as she continues to pet James. Jasper and Jax decide they want in on some of the affection. They both join James in their mum’s lap, as much as they are able to fit into it and along side of it. As close as they all can get, they are singing their purrs in unison. They feel there mum’s happiness through their mum’ body.

“Here is something else, I’ll try to break it down for you three adorable cuties. According to this review by a reader of the book, which repeats some of what I read before. ‘Richard Collier is a 36-year old writer with a terminal brain tumor who falls in love with the beautiful actress, Elise McKenna. But there’s one big problem. She’s dead. She lived many years ago in another time. But that doesn’t stop Richard who figures out a way to travel back in time and win her heart.’ Travel back in time seems the relevant statement. Somewhere in Time is about time travel and romance. He discovers a photograph in a visitors room in the hotel of the actress Elise McKenna and becomes obsessed with her.”

Carter hugs each of her boys with a great big snuggle. She is smiling as her mind is traveling in all directions at once. The mystery, what if it has something to do with time travel. Is that too far fetched? “Guys, I think that is enough for today. How about some dinner? I will try to find us a copy of the book Somewhere In Time. Until we get that we can still work on the rest of the letters and numbers in the code. But I think we are way ahead on figuring this out. At least, I think and hope we are. It’s possible we are being misled. We will see. I’m not sure what it means, any of this, but sure is damned exciting. Time travel. WOW!”

Well, what a day for writing. A death, which is shocking, even if no love is lost, a life is over. In itself that is enough. But I must say my way of escaping the tragic is to write and create. Having Carter McLeod figure out a possible direction the film ‘Brief Sacrifice’ might be heading, that is satisfying and important to me. Of course, I knew it before telling you but it is fun giving you sneak peaks is fun. It, also, takes my mind off of what really happened to that person in our therapy group. It is really creepy. Not something I want to think about while Scottie is away.

I did talk to her, Scottie, that is. She is going to be home in three days. Finishing up re-filming a scene that didn’t come out right in any of the takes. So, Scottie has been spending time with an actor, female, brings out my jealousy. Scottie’s not about to get involved, but if you knew this woman, you would understand my concern. She’s shattered many relationships that appeared solid on the outside. This bitch doesn’t care whose life she wrecks. Mine, I don’t want her near.

Enough for now. I hope we will be able to schedule our first private session together really soon. It feels like I am going to need you. He missed our session this week. Next week, I intend to have it out with Dr. George. I am going to confront him. Hold nothing back. I promise you. He will receive my wrath for all his indiscretions and fucking with my head. Trying to make me feel insane, delusional, unable to see or understand what I am feeling. He is going down. I will need you to put me back together again after I fall off the wall down into my darkest hole. My prediction is I am heading down. Mania high is coming to a close with depression rising. A funny irony considering all the circumstances surrounding me.

We need to talk. Soon. Until next time.

Fondly & Needing You,
Madison

Sets & Animals for Film: Brief Sacrifice with Lead Character CARTER MCLEOD. [Portrayed by BAFTA Nominated Actor NATALIE STEPHENS] Savannah Cats are Carter’s. Screenplay: MADISON TAYLOR. Director: SCOTTIE ANDREWS

brief sacrifice library living room fireplace  970x546

film ‘Brief Sacrifice’ library living room fireplace in mansion where Carter McLeod lives with her three Savannah cats, Jasper, Jax and James.

James-a neutered male Savannah Cat lounging on sofa  645x499

film ‘Brief Sacrifice’ James is one of three neutered male Savannah Cats, Carter McLeod has as her companions. He is enjoying a good lounge on his favorite sofa.

Soon Annie will get to read Madison’s Letters. Some at a time. All will be revealed in time.

Somewhere In Time – John Barry

rain in garden gif

Morning Disappears
Written by Madison Taylor
February 10th 2008

Venture in the story
Continuing on without breakage
Could the story continue on
No broken chain
No link to spare
To continue from here
Until despair wears down into nothing
Expanding energy
Nothing is there
Left to grasp

Blend together
Join the lines
Belong together
Flowing wave’s crashing
Shore pulling back again
Once more in repetition
An answer to the moon’s direction
The sea governed by the moon cycles
Stars are all one
All is one with them

Now answer
Consciousness’ stream
Finding the door freeing the words
Letting go
Follow a path long ago set
Not made but entered
Trusting it is a way
To be for now
To hunt the seas of old
Begin today
Starting again
Try not to break the bond
It connects
The next strand

With no holes to stop the flow
No one falling between the cracks
The earth opens up her crust
Sucks us all inside
Boils the remains
There will be hell

Now longing for the sea
Under the waves
Covering over us
Not swimming to survive another breath
Stars photograph their memories
Imagery from shining creatures
From the darkest of deeps
No eyes have seen

Humans contain in their visions
Salty kisses on eyelashes
Wiping away the blurriness of tears
Convey feelings following close
Songs lamenting
Repeating the vanishing
Disappearing tricks of death

Beating heads
Bashing the brains inside
With senses to understand
There is no understanding
Just an illusion guided
By a magician with mirrors
Reflecting nothing seen or lost
Not revealed

Without meaning
Truly nothing exists
Beyond a pin prick in the flesh
Pulled from off our bones
When they melt into the soil
Water washes away the nutrients
Back to the sea
Where it is spoiled
By greed of oil breakers
They heat our flesh
To burn in hell
Just to stay warm
One long moment

Perishing into dust
Winds carry away
To farthest reaches
The unknown universe
Time repeats
Continues on with ideas
Crying salty tears
Proving feelings
Are happening

Experience life
Time to borrow
Quickly it’s taken away
Shortness vanishes
Leaving behind
Urges to scream

Lands far away
Recognize they are not alone
Echo returns
Neither are we
We must hurry
Nothing lasts long enough
Recording its real existence
It is stolen away again
Again and again

The teacher stops
Repeating souls in mannequin form
Until the end of repeats
It is overdone
Finished
We are no more
Does anyone want the choice
Completely coming to a close
Never to be again
Thoughts of feeling
No more pain
The choice is life
To feel
Or death
To be numb
Forever more
Life would be
The choice

© madison taylor 2008

awe-some green 1Awesome Waves — Jk McCormack (c) jKm 2013

The Rolling Stones – Sympathy For The Devil (Live) – OFFICIAL

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

english garden off the back marble patio  972x732

English garden off the back marble patio

Patrick when he was five weeks. He is a Bengal kitten. Madison gave to Scottie as a present for her Birthday. As he grows he becomes devoted to her.

Patrick when he was five weeks. He is a Bengal kitten. Madison gave to Scottie as a present for her Birthday. As he grows he becomes devoted to her.

Patrick at 3 mos is a curious fellow, always checking the unusual out 1093x479

Patrick at 3 mos is a curious fellow, always checking the unusual out

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

Patrick is our Bengal cat in tree. It is protected area. Patrick cannot leave property from there. He loves Scottie. They are buddies.

Awesome lighted treehouse on the estate of chateau de rocher  642x432

Awesome lighted tree-house on the estate of Chateau de Rocher. A place of escape for Madison. She liked to run away when she was a kid. Climbing trees were her favorite places to hide. Scottie had this built for Madison as their 10th Anniversary present.

play is not just play meryl streep

Private Writings: Chapter #19 — Something Wicked That Way Goes

private writings to a psychoanalyst (c) Jk 2013
Private Writings: Chapter #19 — Something Wicked That Way Goes
Written by Jennifer Kiley
Illustrated by j. kiley
First Chapter Published 19th March 2013
Published Tuesday AM
Posted Tuesday 30th July 2013
WARNING: ADULT LANGUAGE AND CONTENT. NOT SUITABLE FOR CHILDREN

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

Private Writings: Chapter #19 — Something Wicked That Way Goes

“You cursed brat! Look what you’ve done! I’m melting! melting! Oh, what a world! What a world! Who would have thought a good little girl like you could destroy my beautiful wickedness? Oooooh, look out! I’m going! Oooooh! Ooooooh!” — Wicked Witch of the West

I’m Melting! – The Wizard of Oz — Movie CLIP (1939) HD

Tuesday 5th February 2008

Annie,

How can you tell if you have a grip on reality if you aren’t exactly sure what reality really is? I have never been certain about the answer to the question, ‘What is reality?’ It has puzzled me for most of my life. Include with that question, ‘What is sanity?’ These seem to me to be valuable questions to have the answers to, otherwise, how is anyone to tell whether there world is real and sane. If I judge mine to be real and sane, what if I am wrong. All along I have believed something which may not be true.

Truth is another element needing definition. Is it an absolute? No one has the power to change what it is. It just is. Can there be smaller truths one can claim as being true? Simple perceptions of reality, like a bird can fly, or at least most birds can fly.

I am in a strange mind. Depression has been pressing on me in the late of night. Getting a handle on it seems practically impossible. Scottie has been away doing finishing touches on our film Brief Sacrifice. It is somewhat lonely at the Chateau. Sure Toker and Mikey snuggle with me in my study when I am writing. Patrick is usually wandering around looking for Scottie when she is away. He doesn’t like her being missing either. He misses his snuggles with her and most of all sleeping on her head while I rest my head on her shoulder, as close as possible the three of us together.

Something needs to keep me occupied, to pull my feelings away from feeling depressed. I do some of my digital art on the computer or write a poem, if my muse has something she wants me to express. I try anything not to feel depressed or missing Scottie. I go with her sometimes but I really don’t like to travel. I’m so claustrophobic and hate flying commercial jets. Now if I were the pilot, I could handle that. But I stopped flying years ago. Right after college, when I had a near head on collision while landing my plane. Some asshole, unauthorized to land, came in from the wrong direction, tried landing on my runway, heading directly at me. Thinking fast I increased my power, pulled up the yoke and flew my ass right over the bastard. Wheels almost grazed the top of his tail wing.

Shaking to death by the time I finally landed and taxied to park. Rushed out the exit door. Never set foot in a plane again, too many near death experiences do that to you. I am land bound completely now. I get sea-sick, so no boats. Only cars and trains now. Had great adventures in the sky but now too many crazy people up there and on the ground with no idea or attention span to be operating any moveable object.

I have some more for you on the film I wrote, Brief Sacrifice, but I wanted to tell you something really disturbing about Dr. George first. In our last private session he accused me of spreading rumours about him having an affair with one of his clients. He didn’t tell me which one. Figured I would know. None of which is true. Why would I accuse Dr. George having sex with a client? He is straight. I don’t know any woman who would want to have sex with him. The thought is gross. It just seems a way for him to talk about sex. He’s always so graphic.

I denied it. Told him if he mentions it again, I would go to the director of the clinic, and report him for sexual harassment. That him shut up. Then he pouted. Barely said another word during our remaining half hour. I’m disturbed about my sense of reality and sanity, what does he talk about, his insane hallucinations. Rumours of people trying to destroy him. Thinking I’m the one responsible. Sounds more mad than I am.

By the way, I hated group today until you took over. He was flipping out there, too. What is with him? He’s always been strange, self-obsessed and sexually obscene, but not this strange. His words don’t seem to make any sense, to me, he sounding pretty crazy.

Your sensitivity taking over went perfectly. He didn’t even noticed. You salvaged group. Thank you for slowing the fall down the rabbit hole. It’s going to Tumble faster than a boulder rock soon. No one will be able to save it. Group is on a slow burn to extinction.

I say forget about him, group therapy and being mentally fucked up. I want to tell you what comes up next in Brief Sacrifice. Last time we were about to have the unveiling underneath the fake covering on the side of the leather briefcase. James found the spot with his pawn. Due to his persistent Carter, his mum, looked underneath his paw. Jasper and Jax wanted in on the fun, so as Carter tried to remove the layer of fine leather, the two boys started clawing at it with extreme vigor until they loosened it enough for Carter to completely remove it. The boys, her Savannah cats, made it simple for her.

All eyes were on the spot where the patch was removed. Carter stared at it. It was the markings of letters and numbers, not in any sensible order. Some kind of mystery code, left covered, which meant Carter thought, no one wanted it to be found. But who? What did the letters and numbers mean? How would they understand or even begin to understand what they had found?

“Okay, boys, what do we do next?”

She found a small notebook, where she jotted down her subconscious ramblings as they surfaced, grabbed a pen, a writer always has both near by. She flipped open the notebook to a blank page. For a moment, she thought, ‘How should I record the letters and numbers. They weren’t in columns or rows exactly. To be perfectly honest, they were all rather jumbled up in no particular order at all.’ This thought was frustrating her.

James reached out his right paw, placed it on the letter ‘S’, pulled back his paw so Carter could see where he had just pointed.

“‘S’! James, why an ‘S’?”

He stared at the briefcase, as if he knew something. He was a rather psychic cat. Carter wrote down the ’S’ at the top of the blank page. “What next?”

James put his paw on the letter ‘I’ and once again pulled it away.

“Okay, James, what is it you see that I am not? What is the significance of an ‘S’ and an ‘I’”?

She stared at the letters and numbers for quite some time as her boys watched. They were spellbound, all of them. Carter could see nothing yet, that made any sense. But she knew James was seeing something.

“Too bad you can’t speak, James. You’d have this figured out and we could all relax and discover what the mystery is right away.” Carter thought to herself, ‘It really isn’t going to be that simple.’ They would just have to wait until James put his paw on the next letter or maybe it would be a number next.

In a quick gesture, James placed his right paw on another figure. When he took it away, Carter could see the it was the letter ‘T’ and she shouted out loud. “You have something there James. It spells out S.I.T. Amazing. What does ‘sit’ mean?” Carter looked at her boys, her lips pursed and brow raised. Gently, she placed the notebook on the coffee table next to the briefcase, leaned back on the couch to let her boys climb into her lap. They all sensed their mum was finished with the adventure for the evening, so they snuggled in relaxing into a good snog with mum.

That’s it for today, Annie. It does move faster eventually. First the letters and numbers have to be figured out. Do they follow a certain ordered sequence? Are the numbers on their own or do the letters and numbers somehow connect to the other? Randomly or specifically? You will find out in due time.

Listen, therapy is turning into the Madness of King George. You have your degrees. Your letter from the Board of the APA. Your license is legal. So what are you waiting for? Please HELP ME. I need you to help me stay sane, if I haven’t lost it already. I am pleading with you. Take me in. I am at your mercy.

Next time I want some good news. So until then.

Fondly.
Madison
@>-;—

Sets & Animals for Film: Brief Sacrifice with Lead Character CARTER MCLEOD. [Portrayed by BAFTA Nominated Actor NATALIE STEPHENS] Savannah Cats are Carter’s. Screenplay: MADISON TAYLOR. Director: SCOTTIE ANDREWS

brief sacrifice library living room fireplace  970x546

film ‘Brief Sacrifice’ library living room fireplace in mansion where Carter McLeod lives with her three Savannah cats, Jasper, Jax and James.

James-a neutered male Savannah Cat lounging on sofa  645x499

film ‘Brief Sacrifice’ James is one of three neutered male Savannah Cats, Carter McLeod has as her companions. He is enjoying a good lounge on his favorite sofa.

Fear of the Darkness — Iron Maiden

laughter rose buds 2 yellow for siolfer-rose and nana niamh

Soon Annie will get to read Madison’s Letters. Some at a time. All will be revealed in time.

Somewhere In Time – John Barry

rain in garden gif

I Die For The Last Time
Written by Madison Taylor
February 3rd 2008

Will I die before you
Rather feel my death around me
Let you act as though
You won’t miss me
If I should be the one to go
The madness in my head
Makes those retreat
Yet empathy is what is shown as caring
Now just retreat
As if touched by poison

Gone is the spirit that fights
Staying alive doesn’t have any attraction
Nothing is worth the effort
Stopping now would reduce the struggle
Escaping into the unknown
Even if it is empty
Is less painful
Than feeling an absence
Which once felt filled by love

All have left
The party has moved
Hell is ready to enter
Punishment enough for suicide
After I satisfy the terms
Of the fiery incarceration
Being a victim
Climbing out won’t be impossible
Returning inside a new identity
Never to have to know the world again

Just a ghost of slim memories
Might cross the mind with blurred recall
Thinking the images from a bad dream
Occurred from a childhood
Now is back to haunt
All surroundings filled with pain
Hatred of the innocence
Couldn’t find their own
So they stole from children
Never to be in sight again
Going away forever
Never to live a moment of peace again

Escaping through death is the only way
To discover the path to spiritual destiny
Some were not meant to be
Running away
Carried by the swiftness of the wind
Away
Escaping the pain
Living without blessings
Celebrate
Gone
All is gone
No more sound
Or sight
Reading words again
Good bye friendless face
Goodbye
It is come
To the end

© madison taylor 2008

Escape Into the Unknown — Remember When It Rained? — Created by Jennifer Kiley

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

english garden off the back marble patio  972x732

English garden off the back marble patio

Patrick when he was five weeks. He is a Bengal kitten. Madison gave to Scottie as a present for her Birthday. As he grows he becomes devoted to her.

Patrick when he was five weeks. He is a Bengal kitten. Madison gave to Scottie as a present for her Birthday. As he grows he becomes devoted to her.

Patrick at 3 mos is a curious fellow, always checking the unusual out 1093x479

Patrick at 3 mos is a curious fellow, always checking the unusual out

Patrick our Bengal cat his favorite piece of scratching wood  1292x780

Patrick our Bengal cat his favorite piece of scratching wood

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

Patrick is our Bengal cat in tree. It is protected area. Patrick cannot leave property from there. He loves Scottie. They are buddies.

Awesome lighted treehouse on the estate of chateau de rocher  642x432

Awesome lighted tree-house on the estate of Chateau de Rocher. A place of escape for Madison. She liked to run away when she was a kid. Climbing trees were her favorite places to hide. Scottie had this built for Madison as their 10th Anniversary present.

play is not just play meryl streep

Check Reality at the Door

private writings to a psychoanalyst (c) Jk 2013
Check Reality at the Door
Private Writings — The Story of Writing the Book
Private Writings to a Psychoanalyst
Written by Jennifer Kiley
Illustrated by j. kiley
Post Created 16th Tuesday July 2013
Posted On Tuesday 23rd July 2013 [I Was Born.]

Dear Fantasy & Imagination & Belief,

Now I Am Reborn Into Myself. As I Write This Book I Am Building My Life As I Am Building This Book. It Is An Adventure. It Is An Experiment I Am Taking To It’s Conclusion. At The End There Is A Screenplay That Is Waiting To Be Finished Once We See How This Turns Out. The Screenplay I Speak Of Has Been Completely Written. It Went Down With The Double Crash Of My Hard Drive. It Now Lives In My Head And Some Index Cards On A Screenwriting Program. The Ghosts Of That Screenplay Are Waiting Patiently. They Want To Know How Their Futures Are Going To Grow And Into What.

I Have Written Two Endings To That Screenplay. One: Is It Real? Two: Did Everything That Happen Really Happen? All Is A Secret. It Is All Opened Up To Any Possibilities Of Reality Or Fantasy. The Original Screenplay And Now This Book. An Adaptation Of A Manuscript That I Kept Diligent And Daily Entries. Now It Is Being Converted Into A Fiction With An Edge. No Restrictions Attached To This Creative Endeavor. There Is One Major Requirement: To Keep On Creating Where Ever It Leads. Into Darkness Or Into Light All Will Be Revealed. That Is A Guaranteed Eventuality.

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Madison Taylor’s study-library with Toker and Mikey sleeping the soft-smooth settee.

“This is fun, Annie, teasing you this way. I know you are not getting to appreciate my tale so far but maybe I will start to send my letters to you once we have established a working relationship.

It feels so near. Dr. George is losing it rather quickly…”
— Madison Taylor [Screenwriter: Brief Sacrifice due out end of 2008]

Dr. Annie Haskell's Psychoanalyst's Office

Dr. Annie Haskell’s Psychoanalyst’s Office

http://thesecretkeeper.net/2013/07/16/private-writings-mystery-clawed-open-18/

From the Book— Private Writings of a Psychoanalyst
Written by Jennifer Kiley

chateau de rocher  scottie andrews and madison taylor and their three cats toker-mikey and patrick live  824x552

Chateau de Rocher is where Scottie Andrews & Madison Taylor & their three cats Toker, Mikey & Patrick live.

A Project with Writing Letters/Poetry/Illustrations/Music/It is a Process of Writing through the Editing of a Manuscript and posting every Tuesday in the Early AM at the link for “the secret keeper” blog. It’s an Adventure. A Mystery. The Unfolding Story of the Screenplay, Brief Sacrifice, within a Collection of Letters. They are telling a story of a relationship being built within the secret writings of a client in a Therapy Group on the way to Self-Destruction.

English Garden at Chateau de Rocher estate  972x732

English Garden at Chateau de Rocher estate

The writer of the Letters, Madison Taylor, so badly wants the new therapist, Dr. Annie Haskell, who started monitoring the Group the same day Madison returned, after undergoing Cancer Treatments. She wants Annie, as she is referred to in Madison’s letters, to take her on as a client. Her present Therapist and Leader of the Therapy Group, Dr. George is on his way out of his mind and on his way to a future that is looking like it is heading into a territory in Hell.

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family gathering place at chateau de rocher

The Screenplay Brief Sacrifice has already been made into a film, at the time this story takes place, it is in Post-Production. It was written by Madison Taylor. Her partner, Scottie Andrews, is the director. She is in the process of finishing edits and is under pressure to leave town fairly often. This is stressful for Madison who has great difficulty with being left alone for long stretches of time.

bedroom with perfect high windows lots of light. scottie and madison share this room with their cats mikey-toker-patrick

bedroom with perfect high windows lots of light. scottie and madison share this room with their cats mikey-toker-patrick

Madison does use the time efficiently. It gives her a great amount of time she uses to write and create her graphic paintings. When she writes, she focuses particularly on screenplays and poetry. This is all contained in the book. It will keep progressing. There is an undercurrent of a story, some of it true to Madison’s life and some of it is only a fantasy contained in the film, Brief Sacrifice, she worked on creating with Scottie.

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A set piece from Brief Sacrifice which Carter McLeod, the main character of the film, inherited her grandmother’s estate.

Carter’s grandmother provided for her well, with investments that would carry her through to be a full time writer for the entirety of her, a hopefully long life. The rest of her family got a write off of a check for 1,000 pounds a piece. Her grandmother felt they had not accomplished a thing in their lives, and expected an inheritance, but supporting her creative granddaughter, who actually expressed her genuine love for her, and lived with her, is why she received the bulk of her grandmother’s estate, including with it, the mansion and all of the extensive grounds.

Carter’s grandmother was a generous patron to the arts, and she prepared for her dying, making sure her granddaughter Carter would be well provided for when she was gone. While she was alive and after she died only a few years back, she always provided for Carter, the only relative she loved. So the pain was still closely present in Carter’s heart and she missed her grandmother Emma McLeod very much. The Savannah cats, Jasper, Jax and James, they both shared the three of them, of course, they were well provided for in the will. Carter was given their full custody. They loved each other, all of them.

The film contains this massive secret, that as the Letters are being written, a small amount of the film’s story is revealed, as told to Annie, about the character of Carter McLeod, her three Savannah cats, Jasper, Jax and James. Carter is a frustrated but great writer of literature, with a flavour of a touch of mystery blended with some psychological unraveling. Her major problem is, her books are going unnoticed by the Corporate Publishing Houses, who are only looking for trash to publish, that will make them millions, with as little investment in creativity as possible.

Carter must write, no matter the rejection notices, she believes in her creative talent but the frustration comes from the doubts these constant rejections bring to her self confidence. One can only build one’s self-esteem for just so long without feedback of a positive nature.

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Carter McLeod’s Study and library. A cozy space where many a mind-bending word had been entered into her laptop.

So she starts the beginning of the film, going out on adventures. Looking for something magical to inspire her. To keep her beliefs alive. One day she stumbles on an Estate Sale she thinks might be fun. Thinking, maybe she will come upon a treasure no one realizes they possess. Without fail, her mental projections are satisfied, when she comes upon a most unusual looking briefcase, of the old school kind. It looks rather beat up, as though it has been through a tumble or two. It intrigued Carter, especially after she picked it up and discovered its weight was surprisingly heavy. Also, when she tried to open it, not a give at all with the lock, which in all appearances looked like it would just pop right open. Well, from here you need to read from the archives and future letters to discover the mystery of the briefcase and just who was this Carter McLeod.

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James-a neutered male Savannah Cat lounging on his favorite throne of a sofa. He thinks he is a Prince with many fantasies of glorious adventures.

It contains a mystery that will blow a hole in the fabric of the world. Or at least bend minds to see a cleared focus of what exactly it is, this world we live in and how certain truths are concealed or covered continuously by the powers, the masters of the marionettes, that control everything that happens.

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Brief Sacrifice library- living room-fireplace-cozy for Jasper-Jax-James & Carter to hang together.

The mystery of the briefcase, hold a power that has been passed down through the history of time. What is real needs to be checked at the door and disbelief needs to be reexamined. — Jennifer Kiley – author of Private Writings to a Psychoanalyst

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Awesome lighted tree-house on the estate of Chateau de Rocher.

The tree was a place of escape for Madison. She liked to run away when she was a kid. Climbing trees were her favorite places to hide. Scottie had this built for Madison as their 10th Anniversary present. She wanted Madison to be able to escape whenever she felt the need to run. Scottie felt this would be a safe place for her to run to. She would know that Madison was safe.

So this is what this letter writing and poetry, illustrations and music is all about. It is an adventure and a growing process. Mine and yours, an adventure and growth I hope others might find some enjoyment, insight and awareness from, within or from without, that will bring a moment of escape through the music, illustrations, poetry and storytelling. Two stories intertwining into an intriguing manifestation and an escape from reality. Truths might be reveal what is not know or thought of before. Where this is headed, only the muse knows with any certainty and she isn’t revealing it all to me, in anyway. We will all find out when we arrive at any destination, what is going to happen or what will happen. So lets be surprised together. There is quite the tale to be told and mysteries to unfurl.

Until next time.

Fondly,
Madison Taylor

Somewhere In Time – John Barry

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

Sometimes You Just Feel Invisible

a divider for post no. 5 love fav new one thinner

Sometimes You Just Feel Invisible
Written by Jennifer Kiley
Illustrations of Family Companion Animals
Photographs by Shawn MacKenzie
Post Created Wednesday 17th July 2013
Posted On Saturday 20th July 2013
X-Treme Haiku Saturday

Schroeder-the Jekyll & Hyde of Cats-kisses & snuggles switching instantaneously to bites & growls. And then there's Saki-our Amazon Parrot-my protector-she bites me when she thinks I am in danger. OUCH!!! One of her satisfactions is when she imitates Snoopy on his Sopwith Camel dive-bombing The Red Baron-in this instance replace TRB with Shawn-cannot get near me when Saki is sitting on my shoulder or near me in anyway. A true love/hate relationship with Shawn who gives her peanut treats whenever Saki asks. Now look at the love between S & S. It is a labour of love. In this photograph, Saki has only just started to fly over to us. Her life before us was trauma filled & neglect. Loved Shawn first but switched over to me. Now we are symbiotic & copacetic & share everything-Food & Love & Snuggles & I get a Heroic Protector who sleeps/sits on me when I write or doing anything at all. A Love Note for My Two Favorite Cuddlers.  1280x960

Schroeder-the Jekyll & Hyde of Cats-kisses & snuggles switching instantaneously to bites & growls. And then there’s Saki-our Amazon Parrot-my protector-she bites me when she thinks I am in danger. OUCH!!! One of her satisfactions is when she imitates Snoopy on his Sopwith Camel dive-bombing The Red Baron-in this instance replace TRB with Shawn-cannot get near me when Saki is sitting on my shoulder or near me in anyway. A true love/hate relationship with Shawn-who gives her peanut treats whenever Saki asks. Now look at the love between S & S. It is a labour of love. In this photograph-Saki has only just started to fly over to us. Her life before us was trauma filled & neglect. Loved Shawn first but switched over to me. Now we are symbiotic & copacetic. We share everything-Food-Love & Snuggles. I get an Heroic Protector who sleeps/eats/sits/snuggles/dances on me when I write or do anything. A Love Note for My Two Favorite Cuddlers. Kisses-Jk [One of Their Two Mums] ps. I am not Invisible to them. They need me as I need them & want me in their lives.

Sometimes You Just Feel Invisible
By Jennifer Kiley
17th July 2013

Sometimes you just feel
Invisible no sight no
Depth of shape no dimensions

Vision forward moves
Past forgotten locked in lost
Memories committed done

Frozen locked in time
Tripping tricking psyche deep
Confusion delusions thoughts

Trapping murderers
Vanquish shadows’ reflection
Innocence stolen destroyed

Perversion alive
Evil plans continue then
New images prevailing

Subconscious nightmares
Dreams retold when awakened
Bulldozers crashing breaking

Home protects safe place
Breathe panic out with symptoms
Expand light growing healing

© Jk 2013

Lakme-Delibes: Flower Duet — Joan Sutherland
Combining Art With Love
— Music Video — All Digital Art Created by Jennifer Kiley

a divider for post no. 5 love fav new one thinner

Genius or Madness?

Genius or Madness?
“Up/Down” Bipolar Disorder Documentary
Post Created by Jk the SK
Illustrated by j. kiley
Created May 12th 2013
Posted May 13th 2013

Original Transcript
6 November 2012
Genius or Madness?
Professor Glenn Wilson

“Great wits are sure to madness near allied, and thin partitions do their bounds divide” (John Dryden, 1681).
“There is no great genius without a tincture of madness” (Seneca, 1st Century A.D.).silver divider between paragraphs

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dali spider of the evening

silver divider between paragraphsMany great artists and scientists appear to have gone slightly mad following their lofty achievements. Isaac Newton was arguably the greatest physicist of all time, introducing the concept of gravity and making major advances in optics, mechanics and mathematics. He was also intensely suspicious and distrustful of others and in later life dabbled in alchemy and sought hidden messages in the Bible. Of course, alchemy was not thought a mad pursuit in Newton’s day and he could have been afflicted with mercury poisoning as a result of his experiments.silver divider between paragraphs
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dali the disintegration of the persistance of memory

silver divider between paragraphsBeethoven and Van Gogh are also said to have gone progressively mad, though the reasons are equally debatable. Beethoven’s mania may have been due to alcoholism, syphilis, or lead poisoning (apart from his profound deafness, which would distress anyone, let alone a musician). There are theories that Van Gogh’s mood swings were caused by porphyria rather than bipolar disorder, that he lost his ear in a duel with Gauguin (claiming self-injury to maintain his friendship) and that his “suicide” was an accidental shooting by two boys playing cowboys (whom he also protected).silver divider between paragraphs
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van gogh starry night on the rhone

silver divider between paragraphsFor others, the genius and madness appear in parallel. Nikola Tesla was a brilliant applied scientist whose inventions rivaled those of Edison. He obtained around 300 patents in radio and electricity technologies, pioneering alternating current and hydroelectric power. However, he claimed to be in communication with other planets, to have invented “death rays” and suffered from bizarre compulsions.silver divider between paragraphs
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van gogh bridge

silver divider between paragraphsJohn Nash, the Nobel-winning mathematician who developed “game theory” for the social sciences also suffered paranoid delusions throughout his career. He was hospitalised involuntarily and had to feign sanity to be released. He still heard the voices but learned how to live with them and not to talk about them. “I wouldn’t have had such good scientific ideas if I had thought more normally” he said.silver divider between paragraphs
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van gogh starry night

silver divider between paragraphsSometimes it is a matter of chance or social milieu that determines whether an individual is deemed brilliant or crazy. To the Counter-Reformation Church leaders, Galileo was not necessarily mad (probably just heretical) but they clearly failed to appreciate his genius and subjected him to a lifetime of house arrest. In other times and places Picasso and Einstein might have been committed to an insane asylum rather than revered for their original thinking.silver divider between paragraphs
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moby dick – jackson pollock

silver divider between paragraphsMany lists of creative achievers throughout history have been compiled along with mental health symptoms and diagnostic categories retrospectively assigned to them. Unfortunately, these are mostly anecdotal, speculative and lacking in proper controls for comparison. Some have argued that the connection between genius and madness has been over-egged because of a few high-profile cases such as those described above.silver divider between paragraphs
virginia woolf by george charles beresford 1902

virginia woolf by george charles beresford 1902

silver divider between paragraphsThe best evidence in support of the genius-madness link comes from behaviour genetics. The close relatives of creative people are more likely to be schizophrenic and vice versa (psychotics having more creative relatives). Einstein, for example, had a son who was schizophrenic, while Bertrand Russell had many schizophrenic relatives. According to Simonton (1999), “creative hits and crazy misses” are mixed within many illustrious family pedigrees, including the Darwins, Galtons and Huxleys.silver divider between paragraphs
virginia woolf

virginia woolf

silver divider between paragraphsThe first degree relatives of creative people are actually more prone to mental disorders than creatives themselves. This is because actual illness (as opposed to its genetic predisposition) is likely to impede a creative career. The exception seems to be writers, who themselves show high rates of many behavioural disorders, including psychoses, mood disorders, substance abuse and suicide.silver divider between paragraphsvirginia-woolf 3silver divider between paragraphsCould the environment also be involved? Traumatic events in childhood and orphan status seem more common in those who make outstanding contributions to art and science. In a study of 700 high achievers, found that three-quarters had troubled childhoods, especially loss of a parent. The “school of hard knocks” could provide motivation and inspiration (Dickens and Chaplin come to mind here) while at the same time generating psychological disorder. However, this idea is opposite to the common-sense view that parental support and encouragement is beneficial to achievement, rather than maltreatment and deprivation. Indeed, the Goetzels found that wealth was more common in the backgrounds of famous people than poverty. And of course, pathology in the parents may be genetically transmitted to their children, thus accounting for some of the associations reported.silver divider between paragraphs
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Virginia Woolf

silver divider between paragraphsSimilar thought processes, such as unusual and grandiose ideas, together with a determination to promote them, seem to link genius and psychosis. Certain neurotransmitters and gene loci have been cited as common to both, including the male sex hormone testosterone, a gene relating to a growth factor involved in neural development and plasticity called neuregulin 1 (NRG1 and genes modulating dopamine transmission in the brain, e.g., DARPP-32.silver divider between paragraphs
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virginia woolf painting

silver divider between paragraphsUnconventional thinking is characteristic of a constitutional personality trait called Psychoticism (P). This has many facets, including tough-mindedness, lack of empathy, impulsiveness, risk-taking, adventure-seeking, bizarre thinking, and a refusal to adhere to social norms. High levels of P predispose to psychopathy and clinical psychosis, as well as to creativity, thus accounting for the overlap between them. A good deal of research over recent decades has supported this theory. A related trait is called schizotypy. An optimum number of indicators for this relates to creative achievement, rather than full-blown schizophrenia.silver divider between paragraphs
kurt cobain

kurt cobain

silver divider between paragraphsDopamine function (or dysfunction?) may account for the link between genius and madness. Dopamine is the chemical messenger in the meso-limbic and cortical areas of the brain concerned with approach, reward, positive mood and achievement-seeking. Genes that modulate dopamine levels are reported to affect novelty-seeking behaviour and to relate to Impulsivity and Psychoticism. Recreational drugs that are addictive and sometimes lead to delusions and hallucinations (e.g., amphetamine psychosis) tend to raise levels of dopamine in the brain. By contrast, anti-psychotic medications are usually dopamine antagonists (this being one of the reasons why compliance is difficult). Untreated schizophrenics have more D2 receptors in the striatum and lower D2 binding in the thalamus.silver divider between paragraphs
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kurt cobain – bipolar

silver divider between paragraphsGenius and psychotic are both inclined to loose associations (i.e., “thinking outside the box”). This can be observed as unusual responses on a word association test or in some of Salvador Dali’s surreal images (e.g., the Lobster-Telephone and the Mae West Lips Sofa). Such flexibility of thought seems to be increased by dopamine.silver divider between paragraphs
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beethoven – bipolar

silver divider between paragraphsAnother description of the schizophrenic thinking style is that it tends to be over-inclusive, with the boundaries of relevance being set more broadly. To most people, an apple falling off a tree and the movement of planets in the solar system would appear to have nothing in common, but Newton was insightful enough to connect them under the grand unifying concept of “gravity.” Of course, not all such generalisations turn out to be that useful but many great scientific theories depend upon the ability to perceive improbable connections.silver divider between paragraphs
carrie fisher - bipolar 638x359

carrie fisher – bipolar

silver divider between paragraphsExactly how loose associations or over-inclusive thinking promote genius is unclear. If enough crazy ideas are generated, one or two might hit the target by chance alone. This approach is deliberately harnessed in “brainstorming” sessions which use random “flashcards” as a means of generating fresh ideas. Certainly, it is difficult to be creative operating within received wisdom and some of the greatest artists and composers were the “rebels” least shackled by the traditional rules of their art. However, the “shotgun” theory smacks slightly of “monkeys on typewriters”. (It would take a long time for them come up with the complete works of Shakespeare). Outstanding advances in science, like the theories of evolution and relativity, and great works of art, such as Wagner’s Ring Cycle, cannot be generated by chance alone. Profound imagination and high-level spatial intelligence is usually required in addition.silver divider between paragraphs
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bipolar behaviour

silver divider between paragraphsApplication to the point of “work addiction” is also often involved. Edison reckoned that genius was 1% inspiration and 99% perspiration.Most creative people are also the most productive. There is a positive correlation between quality and quantity of output, implying that each masterpiece is likely to be interspersed with much that is mediocre. (I do not ne)cessarily agree with this statement.)silver divider between paragraphs
marilyn monroe - bipolar 630x465

marilyn monroe – bipolar

silver divider between paragraphsThe human tendency to apophenia may be implicated in both creativity and madness. This refers to seeing meaningful patterns where they do not exist and it underlies superstition and hallucinations (e.g., seeing ghosts and hearing “voices”). This perceptual style has survival value because failing to spot a predator in the forest is a bigger (potentially fatal) mistake than seeing one where it does not exist. Exaggerated apophenia is characteristic of schizotypal individuals and is enhanced by dopamine.silver divider between paragraphs
ernest hemingway - bipolar 627x590

ernest hemingway – bipolar

silver divider between paragraphsAnother mental “illness” linked with creativity is bipolar mood disorder (previously called “manic-depressive psychosis”). This is characterised by extreme mood swings, occurring over a period of months, and it seems particularly to afflict artists, writers, musicians and comedians. Among highly talented people who appear to have suffered mood disorder are Peter Tchaikovsky, Robert Schumann, Vincent Van Gogh, Virginia Woolf, Spike Milligan, Paul Merton and Stephen Fry (who presented a TV documentary on bipolar disorder detailing his experiences).silver divider between paragraphs
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winston churchill – bipolar

silver divider between paragraphsGenetic analysis shows links between bipolar disorder and schizophrenia. Sufferers are often tortured souls, particularly when the “Black Dog” afflicts them, and their feelings may be tapped to give greater depth and sensitivity to their art. On the other hand, the “flight of ideas” experienced in the “manic” phase of the mood cycle can result in exceptional productivity. As with the trade-off between schizophrenia and genius, bipolar disorder balances troughs with peaks in a way that might account for its evolutionary survival. Treatments are available for bipolar disorder but there is a danger that, by smoothing mood, they could impede the creative forces.silver divider between paragraphs
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bipolar wheel

silver divider between paragraphsThen there are the autistic spectrum disorders (such as Asperger’s syndrome) in which a deficiency in social communication is sometimes accompanied by “savant” skills in fields like music, mathematics and spatial intelligence. In the film Rain Man (1988), Dustin Hoffman plays Raymond Babbitt an autistic whose exceptional memory is exploited by his brother to count cards in Las Vegas casinos. (This was loosely based on a real-life savant called Kim Peek, who may in fact have had a chromosome disorder). The artist Louis Wain, who became famous for his surrealistic cat paintings was hospitalised for schizophrenia, but others have argued he was actually autistic.silver divider between paragraphs
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marilyn monroe poster

silver divider between paragraphsThese various “disorders” can all contribute to extraordinary contributions to art and science. Some tendency to psychotic traits seems to be beneficial (thus accounting for the maintenance of such genes) but too much makes the individual disorganised and is hence detrimental. It is notable that creative artists and writers have profiles similar to those of psychotic patients on clinical scales of the Minnesota Multiphasic Personality Inventory (MMPI) but are less extreme – in fact, roughly half-way between normal controls and full-blown schizophrenics.silver divider between paragraphs
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mel gibson – bipolar

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What is the mechanism whereby schizophrenic genes promote survival? The clue may be in the behaviour of bower birds, the males of which make colourful and elaborate constructions in order to attract a female (the Taj Mahals of the bird world). Creativity has also been shown to promote mating success in men, as measured by number of sex partners. Since there is no such connection for women, it is not surprising that men’s productivity in art and science exceeds that of women by around ten times.(I don’t believe this statement about men exceed women by around ten times in productivity in art and science—more like opportunity and the continued imbalance in availability and acknowledgment).silver divider between paragraphs
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medical cannabis for bipolar treatment

silver divider between paragraphsObviously, it does not do to be totally and permanently “away with the fairies”; some measure of control needs to be maintained. Consider James Joyce and his daughter Lucia, who was being treated by Carl Jung for schizophrenia in 1934. Joyce doubted she could be schizophrenic because her thought patterns were so similar to his own. Jung disagreed, comparing father and daughter to two people who had arrived at the bottom of a river. According to Jung, James had dived there, whereas Lucia had fallen in. silver divider between paragraphs
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marilyn monroe her famous selfish quote

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Genius and madness have much in common but there are also important differences between them. Mostly these are to do with intelligence, self-insight and contact with reality. Salvador Dali said: “There is only one difference between a madman and me. The madman thinks he is sane. I know that I am mad”. Certainly, Dali was eccentric, self-absorbed and grandiose with a flamboyant moustache and a manic stare. But he was also a skilled draftsman, who produced brilliant, imaginative artworks, which made him rich, famous and able to enjoy a life of luxury. He was not, therefore, totally mad. © Professor Glenn D Wilson 2012
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Genius or Madness? The Psychology of Creativity – Professor Glenn D. Wilson. The text is close to what is on the video but if you want to see it just click on this link.
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“Up/Down” Bipolar Disorder Documentary FULL MOVIE (2011)silver divider between paragraphsThis is a brilliantly made Documentary. Everyone who is Bipolar or knows someone who is or those in the Psychiatric profession and do counseling with anyone who is bipolar or anyone interested in bipolar and everyone who wants to have a knowledge of bipolar and find out what it is from what the myths are or how much people are misinformed about bipolar. A MUST SEE VIDEO. STOP THE STIGMA OF BIPOLAR AND ANY FORM OF MENTAL “ILLNESS” CREATIVITY.silver divider between paragraphs

Beethoven’s Ninth Symphonysilver divider between paragraphs
QUOTATIONS on GENIUS:

“There’s a fine line between genius and insanity. I have erased this line.” ― Oscar Levant

“Genius is nothing more nor less than childhood recaptured at will.” ― Charles Baudelaire, The Painter of Modern Life and Other Essays

“No great mind has ever existed without a touch of madness.” ― Aristotle

“I’m a misunderstood genius.”
“What’s misunderstood?”
“Nobody thinks I’m a genius.”
― Bill Watterson

“Any intelligent fool can make things bigger, more complex, and more violent. It takes a touch of genius — and a lot of courage to move in the opposite direction.” ― E.F. Schumacher

“The public is wonderfully tolerant. It forgives everything except genius.”
― Oscar Wilde, The Artist as Critic: Critical Writings of Oscar Wilde

“The true genius shudders at incompleteness — imperfection — and usually prefers silence to saying the something which is not everything that should be said.” ― Edgar Allan Poe, Marginaliasilver divider between paragraphs
QUOTATIONS on MADNESS:

“Sanity is a madness put to good uses.” ― George Santayana, Essential Santayana, The: Selected Writings

“So when you find yourself locked onto an unpleasant train of thought, heading for the places in your past where the screaming is unbearable, remember there’s always madness. Madness is the emergency exit.” ― Alan Moore, Batman: The Killing Joke

“Human madness is oftentimes a cunning and most feline thing. When you think it fled, it may have but become transfigured into some still subtler form.” ― Herman Melville, Moby-Dick

“I don’t possess these thoughts I have — they possess me. I don’t possess these feelings I have — They obsess me.” ― Ashly Lorenzana

“The thoughts written on the walls of madhouses by their inmates might be worth publicizing.” ― Georg Christoph Lichtenberg

“Men have called me mad; but the question is not settled whether madness is or is not the loftiest intelligence — whether much that is glorious — whether all that is profound — does not spring from disease of thought — from moods of mind exalted at the expense of the general intellect. They who dream by day are cognizant of many things which escape those who only dream by night. In their gray visions they obtain glimpses of eternity, and thrill, in waking, to find that they have been upon the verge of the great secret. In snatches, they learn something of the wisdom which is of good, and more of the mere knowledge which is of evil. They penetrate, however rudderless or compassless, into the vast ocean of the ‘light ineffable’.” ― Edgar Allan Poe, Eleonora silver divider between paragraphs
QUOTATIONS on BIPOLAR:

“I’m the girl who is lost in space, the girl who is disappearing always, forever fading away and receding farther and farther into the background. Just like the Cheshire cat, someday I will suddenly leave, but the artificial warmth of my smile, that phony, clownish curve, the kind you see on miserably sad people and villains in Disney movies, will remain behind as an ironic remnant. I am the girl you see in the photograph from some party someplace or some picnic in the park, the one who is in fact soon to be gone. When you look at the picture again, I want to assure you, I will no longer be there. I will be erased from history, like a traitor in the Soviet Union. Because with every day that goes by, I feel myself becoming more and more invisible…” ― Elizabeth Wurtzel, Prozac Nation

“There is a particular kind of pain, elation, loneliness, and terror involved in this kind of madness. When you’re high it’s tremendous. The ideas and feelings are fast and frequent like shooting stars, and you follow them until you find better and brighter ones. Shyness goes, the right words and gestures are suddenly there, the power to captivate others a felt certainty. There are interests found in uninteresting people. Sensuality is pervasive and the desire to seduce and be seduced irresistible. Feelings of ease, intensity, power, well-being, financial omnipotence, and euphoria pervade one’s marrow. But, somewhere, this changes. The fast ideas are far too fast, and there are far too many; overwhelming confusion replaces clarity. Memory goes. Humor and absorption on friends’ faces are replaced by fear and concern. Everything previously moving with the grain is now against– you are irritable, angry, frightened, uncontrollable, and enmeshed totally in the blackest caves of the mind. You never knew those caves were there. It will never end, for madness carves its own reality.” ― Kay Redfield Jamison, An Unquiet Mind: A Memoir of Moods and Madness

“Manic-depression distorts moods and thoughts, incites dreadful behaviors, destroys the basis of rational thought, and too often erodes the desire and will to live. It is an illness that is biological in its origins, yet one that feels psychological in the experience of it, an illness that is unique in conferring advantage and pleasure, yet one that brings in its wake almost unendurable suffering and, not infrequently, suicide.” ― Kay Redfield Jamison, An Unquiet Mind: A Memoir of Moods and Madness

“Compared to bipolar’s magic, reality seems a raw deal. It’s not just the boredom that makes recovery so difficult, it’s the slow dawning pain that comes with sanity – the realization of illnesss, the humiliating scenes, the blown money and friendships and confidence. Depression seems almost inevitable. The pendulum swings back from transcendence in shards, a bloody, dangerous mess. Crazy high is better than crazy low. So we gamble, dump the pills, and stick it to the control freaks and doctors. They don’t understand, we say. They just don’t get it. They’ll never be artists.” ― David Lovelace, Scattershot: My Bipolar Family

“Depression is a painfully slow, crashing death. Mania is the other extreme, a wild roller coaster run off its tracks, an eight ball of coke cut with speed. It’s fun and it’s frightening as hell. Some patients – bipolar type I – experience both extremes; other – bipolar type II – suffer depression almost exclusively. But the “mixed state,” the mercurial churning of both high and low, is the most dangerous, the most deadly. Suicide too often results from the impulsive nature and physical speed of psychotic mania coupled with depression’s paranoid self-loathing.” ― David Lovelace, Scattershot: My Bipolar Family

“Absurdity and anti—absurdity are the two poles of creative energy.” ― Karl Lagerfeld

“Except you cannot outrun insanity, anymore than you can outrun your own shadow.” ― Alyssa Reyans, Letters from a Bipolar Mother

“Clear your energy, honor your rhythm, live your vision ” ― George Denslow, Living Out of Darkness: A Personal Journey of Embracing the Bipolar Opportunitysilver divider between paragraphs