Amazing Visions: Epic Octopus on the Way

amazing visions
Amazing Visions: Epic Octopus on the Way
Vimeo Videos Discovered by Jennifer Kiley
Created on 8th February 2014
Posted Wednesday 19 February 2014
AMAZING VISIONS

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WHEN POSSIBLE WATCH VIDEOS WITH FULL SCREEN AND HEADPHONES ON
THE EFFECT IS SO MUCH MORE AN AWESOMELY AMAZING EXPERIENCE!!! :-)

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REFLECTIONS.
VISUALLY EROTIC.
CAR TRIP THROUGH GERMANY
HAVING A MOST UNUSUAL
VISUAL EXPERIENCE.
ENJOY YOUR TRIP!!! :-) jKm

The Way – kveten

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PREPARE YOUR SELF FOR A MIND TRIP
IMAGES VIBRATING CHANGING RAPIDLY
AWESOME AH!!! MOMENTS UNBELIEVABLY ARTISTIC
BRINGS BACK THE DAY TRIPPING MIND EXPANSION
SAY HELLO TO TIMOTHY LEARY ON YOUR VISIT
INSIDE THIS VIDEO ALL VISUAL HALLUCINATIONS
ARE ACCEPTABLE ART TRANSFORMING YOUR PERCEPTIONS

Austin Anijam 2014 – The Octopus Project “Mmkit” – Austin Motion Artist Group

austinchronicle.com/screens/2014-01-17/introducing-the-octopus-projects-exquisite-corpse/

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READ BELOW THE CREATOR’S EXPERIENCE
MAKING AN AMAZING VISION TO SHARE
WHAT NATURE IS AND HAS BEEN
BUT WILL IT CONTINUE TO BE?

The Epic Land Part 1 -The New Zealand Landscapes Timelapse – Beven Percival

Watch full screen in HD with sound if your device allows.

Follow my work at:
primalearthimages.com
facebook.com/bevan.percival.1
flickr.com/photos/primal_earth_images_bevan_percival/

Once again the lure of capturing the beauty of the wilderness landscapes around here has got a hold of me and taken up all the spare moments between my day job and kids. Preserved here are some brief moments of light and time that I have experienced over the last 6 months or so.

Every time I go into the wilderness I wonder how much longer will we be able to gaze into truly dark night skies. I wonder too if the way in which the climate seems to be rapidly changing will have an impact on the way that my kids and their future generations experience these wilderness places and the impact that it might have on this ‘epic land’. It’s all too easy to forget about those things in our busy lives.

I hope this time lapse show reel helps you experience a little piece of this epic landscape. What I am not able to show is the effort behind every scene and the great challenges that mother nature throws at you when you are trying to do this stuff. Even though every scene was planned in my head I don’t think any of them turned out the way I envisaged and often the conditions would get the better of me and my gear. On the flip side sometimes you’ve just got to be out there because you can’t plan when the conditions will present ‘a little piece of magic’.

Please leave a comment if you wish, I’d love to hear from you.

All scenes shot in the North Island of New Zealand.

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Anais Nin: Thinks of June — Part Two

a writer's word - day title sunday

Anais Nin: Thinks of June — Part Two
The Diary of Anais Nin — Volume One
Transposed by Jennifer Kiley
Post Created by Jk the secret keeper
Illustrated j. kiley
Post Created on Wednesday 30th October 2013
Posted on Sunday 3rd November 2013
A Writer’s Word

Monet_Claude-Woman_in_the_Garden._Sainte-Adresse darkness modeMonet, Claude — Woman in the Garden

Anaïs Nin
Thinks of June
Part Two

“Her face startlingly white
as she retreated
into the darkness
of the garden,

she posed for me
as she left.

I wanted to run out
and kiss her fantastic beauty
and say:

June,
you killed
my sincerity too.

I will never
know again
who I am,
what I am,
what I love,
what I want.

Your beauty has drowned me,
the core of me.

You carry away with you
a part of me
reflected in you.

When your beauty struck me,
it dissolved me.
Deep down.

I am not different from you.
I dreamed you,
I wished for your existence.

You are the woman
I want to be.

I see in you
that part of me
which is you.

I feel compassion
for your child
is pride,
for your trembling
unsureness,

your dramatization
of events,

your enhancing
of the loves
given to you.

I surrender my sincerity
because
if I love you

it means
we share
the same
fantasies,
the same
madnesses.”

ophelia-1889 john william waterhouseOphelia [1889] John William Waterhouse

WARNING: A BIPOLAR RIDE ALL THE WAY…ENJOY!!! [may not be for everybody but those who get it will laugh…TRUST ME!!!

Happy Birthday, John Lennon 9th October

remembering memories day any as happens

Happy Birthday, John Lennon 9th October
Post Created by Jk the secret keeper
Remembered by Jennifer Kiley, Jk the secret keeper, j. kiley
Illustrated by j. kiley
Post Created on Thursday 10th October 2013
Posted On Wednesday 9th October 2013
JOHN LENNON’S BIRTHDAY

Remember Memories

This is strictly music, posters, images, an interview
of John & Yoko with Dick Cavett [great!!!], quotations.
Enjoy. Happy Birthday John, 10/09/13, Love Jennifer

Tiger orchid #14 Robert Mapplethorp

Tiger orchid #14 Robert Mapplethorp

i-dream-my-painting-and-i-paint-my-dream van gogh

accidentally on purpose

writers4peacecs1

Tiger orchid #14 Robert Mapplethorp

Tiger orchid #14 Robert Mapplethorp

not comfort ignorance

life death poster

karmasutra fate fucks u

“Reality leaves a lot to the imagination.”
― John Lennon

Beatles–In My Life

keep calm write something

john lennon facing

john lennon quote on weird

in dreams

imagine maya angelou

happiness john lennon

fuck ur world fuck ur orders

fuck  definition get over it

John Lennon — Stand By Me

“Sometimes it’s not enough to know what things mean,
sometimes you have to know what things don’t mean.” ― Bob Dylan

freedom nature is illegal

free ur mind  john lennon

dragon shadow and thought

dichotomies poster

John Lennon — Woman

daydream wandering

david lynch narrowing of imagination

da vinci quote everything connects

dancing not hear music  nietzsche

John Lennon — Mind Games

crazy not a competition

crazy keeps me sane

bill hicks evolution

belive in magic

To “River”
I Dedicate This Song to My New Little Boy “River.”
He is 3 weeks old & a Dark Grey Tabby Kitten.
Born on the 19th September 2013 shortly before Midnight.

John Lennon — Beautiful Boy

artists are dangerous issued  by joe mccarthy 50s

accidentally on purpose

John Lennon on Dick Cavett [entire show] September 11, 1971 [HD]

I Include This Photo in My Tribute to John
Lennon & Dedicate It to Julie with Love. Jk

Sound-of-Music-maria closeup during singing of edelweiss melts me inside

write beautifully inside mind must be terrible place poster

typewriter-once-upon-a-time1

find-your-voice-flair-set

dragon-writer

calla lily bouquet framed

John Lennon-Imagine

rookie wood  2013  artist paul wood

bedroom perfect high windows light

fire works by matt the samurai.gif

fire works by matt the samurai.gif

gif balls in a maze little blue balls

gif matt_the_samurai_sparkles_Natural GIF

John Lennon — Watching the Wheels

throughout life soul mate poster

candle-flame-gif

moving water gif

hand letting go of golden flecks gif

seasawing elephant gif

Blended Nature by Alex Fitch   706x506

Blended Nature by Alex Fitch

mirror_cat-500x500

John Lennon — Give Peace A Chance

title black background  the words

4p dragon-blue john lennon quote

4p enchanted green walking bridge

meditating on rock overlooking flowing river gif

John Lennon — Power To the People

blue fantasy ---anonymous  1920x1200

blue fantasy —anonymous

neil-gaiman-book-author-quote

neil-gaiman-quotes-even nothing cannot last forever

carter pic for trisha

John Lennon — Starting Over

4p a world in tree green

entering the soul connection

4p beautiful sunset glorious

hands reaching out into rain

candle flame flickering gif

John Lennon — Jealous Guy

field_of_daisies

surreal green planet under water  by rolan gonzalez  812x512

surreal green planet under water by rolan gonzalez

a flower of many colours-this is for you

erotic flowers and an exotically colourful butterfly

The Beatles — And I Love Her

soul mates filled with yellow rays of sun

candle flame w hand gif

The Beatles — If I Fell

4p if the goddes were a kittie irridescent kitten

depression twisted japanese maple

garden purple flowers

The Beatles — Michelle

garden did you know

van gogh starry night variation

the anatomy of a cover - cover - artist masloski carmen 3800x3500

the anatomy of a cover – cover – artist masloski carmen

The Beatles — You’ve Got to Hide Your Love Away

(1) Butterfly Elegant-Yorkshire rose

(1) abstract-streak-lightning

Quite Busy --- abstract digital art 864x540

Quite Busy — abstract digital art

critical thinker by j. kiley 820x419

critical thinker by j. kiley

The Beatles — Norwegian Wood

abstract purple digital art by j. kiley © jennifer kiley 2013

abstract purple digital art by j. kiley © jennifer kiley 2013

angel oak tree charleston sc

life from death created by j. kiley

life from death created by j. kiley

unconscious reflections by j. kiley © jennifer kileycreated by j. kiley (c) jennifer kiley 2013

The Beatles — Hey, Jude

life death poster

create u r a creator poster

abiotic by yani ioannou

abiotic by yani ioannou

shattered time - unknown artist

shattered time – unknown artist

The Beatles — The Long and Winding Road

hesse tree

i wish i could

autumn tree gif

silver ball by sl8r.co

silver ball by sl8r.co

sea cloud sunset by j.kiley © jennifer kileycreated by j. kiley (c) jennifer kiley 2013

The Beatles — Across the Universe

music gives soul plato

snowing by pinstriped briefs

snowing by pinstriped briefs

(1) book letters flying dark backround

couleurs du ciel par j. kiley © jennifer kiley 2013created by j. kiley (c) jennifer kiley 2013

running stream gif

water dripping gig

The Beatles — Let It Be

dancing music nietzsche gif

hands reaching out into rain

artists are dangerous issued  by joe mccarthy 50s

to feel infinite

The Beatles — While My Guitar Gentle Weeps

john lennon quote poster

john and yoko

happy mouse

candle-flame-gif

candle-flame-gif

les bougies qui dirigent les jeunes voyageurs d'âme

les bougies qui dirigent les jeunes voyageurs d’âme

john lennon by stephen anderson

John Lennon  Peace Shine On

John Lennon Peace Shine On

John Lennon Oct.9th, 19 Dec. 8th, 19

John Lennon
Oct.9th, 19
Dec. 8th, 19

The Beatles — Strawberry Fields

living inside of bubbles with flowers they burst and reality touches your soul

living inside of bubbles with flowers they burst and reality touches your soul

bubbling darkness gif

bubbling darkness gif

white unicorn phantom limb by odani motohiko (1)

john lennon by stephen anderson

(1) yoko one  its alright imaginepeace

John Lennon — Oh, Yoko

trees and night sky fireflies and polka-tumblr

trees and night sky fireflies and polka-tumblr

The Beatles — All You Need Is Love

fall island (1)

love friendship white flower

colorful_abstract_effect_of_glass_and_shards dragon

light dark crystal (1)

love friendship flowers (1)

tears are words

Sadness (1)

spiritual dove (1)

APTOPIX Germany Zoo Panther

N/A

The Beatles — Lucy In the Sky with Diamonds

alice begin at the beginning 1

may day flowers for christa

spiritual pathway

jacaranda tree abstract 1

John Lennon — Mother

Below Is the Surrogate Mother
I Always Dreamed I Would Find Someday

julie w. baby emma

watch over you

true friends forever

write-your-own-story

The Beatles — When I’m 64?

symbols of faith 2

genius madness aristotle

writing calvin-and-hobbes-on-writing

john-and-yoko

John Lennon — Oh, My Love

a friendly little one just exercising fire breathing

a friendly little one just exercising fire breathing

Allen Ginsberg: Poet Buddhist Howl

tell me a story
Allen Ginsberg:Poet Buddhist Howl
Notations by Jennifer Kiley
Interview Face to Face BBC 1995
Quotes In Broken Form by Jennifer Kiley
Created 4th August 2013
Posted Thursday 8th August 2013
TELL ME A STORY

Allen Ginsberg interviewed by Jeremy Isaacs in 1995 for the BBC

1995 – Face to Face with Jeremy Isaacs: An Interview with Allen Ginsberg Part One

1995 – Face to Face with Jeremy Isaacs: An Interview with Allen Ginsberg Part Two

1995 – Face to Face with Jeremy Isaacs: An Interview with Allen Ginsberg Part Three

Listening to Allen Ginsberg was a Transcendental Experience of Heightened Awareness.

Allen Ginsberg: An Honest Interview Filled with Insightful Stories. An Inspiring Talk. Finishing With the Most Moving Lyrical Poem Written by Allen’s Father and in This Interview Set to Music. Allen Sings ‘Father Death Blues’ to Close Out the Interview. I Listened to the Song Until I Was Able to Completely Write Down All the Lyrics. It Is Amazing and to Hear Allen Ginsberg Sing It Blows Me Away and I Think It Will Do the Same for Anyone with Soul and Heart. The Whole Interview Is Worth the Time It Takes to Listen. Enlightenment Is One Possible Reward.

“I saw the best minds of my generation destroyed by madness…starving, mystical naked…too sentimental…changed it to starving hysterical…naked. “
— Allen Ginsberg

Howl, was it an angry poem?
“A gesture of sympathy for a friend in trouble…full devouring God…angry…anguish…ultimate accusation is the mind…the all devouring God…our own mind.”
— Allen Ginsberg

Candor in poetry.
“I very consciously follow my mentor, Walt Whitman. Early version of Leaves of Grass…he hoped Americans would develop into a condition of more candid…Manipulative frankness…he was candid about his emotions…he wasn’t candid about his physical relationships…there was a lineage where someone had slept with Walt Whitman…so there is a lineage of gossip…he couldn’t proclaim his physical love but certainly their was an expression of his emotional love.”
— Allen Ginsberg

“Walt Whitman wasn’t able to proclaim his physical love in his poetry.”
— Allen Ginsberg

He was convinced a lobotomy was necessary. So he signed the papers.
“I signed for my mother’s lobotomy…I felt tremendous guilt…Had to deal with her irrationality…Difficult to get to love…Longing for feminine bliss at the same fear of it…and so I am gay in a sense.”
— Allen Ginsberg

Mother in sane episodes.
“She claimed to be the secretary of Patterson, N.J communist party itself…Great strikes with John Reed in 1918…Has a great labor history.”
— Allen Ginsberg

“Hoover, who was a closet gay, destroyed the labor unions in America because they were originally formed by left wing pinkos to form a left in America…The mafia moved into the vacuum and were protected by Hoover. So there is no left in America, only the right and the middle.”
— Allen Ginsberg

“Had something like a visionary experience or an hallucination…the endlessness of the skies…50 year ago Italian workman made all the scroll work on the architecture of New York…Buddhism…what was real or not real…ended up arrested…choice of going to jail or the mad houses…it was a situation where I was alone…had an affair with Neal Cassidy…William Burroughs was a close friend for many years but wasn’t around…read others and read Blake…sick rose…sunflower…hearing Blake’s voice outside of his own body…reciting…latent projection…ah, sunflower weary of time…seeking after that great golden climb…aspire where my sunflower wishes to grow…the heavens were endless…or the sky was endless, I would say.”
— Allen Ginsberg

Did that help you become a poet? You used drugs after that to try to recapture that experience.
“I used dried leaves…It wasn’t natural…At the time I was eating vegetables. I wasn’t eating meat…Leading a solitary life…Freedom is another word for nothing more to lose…My heart was open in a sense at the time.”
— Allen Ginsberg

Drugs…Does it permanently help you to perceive an expanded universe?
“An ordinary mind that the universe is endless…awaken you to an ordinary mind…the psychedelic experience…Peyote…natural mushroom…a panoramic awareness…the natural experience…can be catalized by the psychedelic experience…but would recommend that people learn a meditative experience…following your breath…notice when your mind wanders…do it every day…since 1970…8 hours for weeks at a time…now I use other styles…quieting the mind…I tried something called ecstasy…I was remembering an old enemy…his transformation that I had someone to define my limits…psychedelics…how they were able to apply them in ordinary mind.”
— Allen Ginsberg

“My father was a lyric poet…I learned it at his knee…learned rhyme…he wrote a poem ‘father death blues’ I read it at his funeral…a caddish…met my mother later 1983 on as a bag lady where I had a chance to take care of her which I didn’t when she was alive…they were both agnostics [parents]…there is some problem with an absolute hierarchical…Jewishness passed by…”

— Allen Ginsberg

Are you a writer or a performer…best read on the page or read out loud?
“Vernacular communication…I am primarily a writer…there is a dimension of sound…It is possible to vocalize to have my poems understood more rapidly…I am not a performer…”
— Allen Ginsberg

Has your writing has a political effect?
“Talked to Dylan. He knew he had power but knew it was miniscule compared to the small number who own the mass media? It would be very difficult for a poet to overcome that kind of power…but if you need the historical truth of what people think inside…the poet tells the unsubjective truth…the government is of words…they are writing prose…their language is shifty…the poet can say what they really think.”
— Allen Ginsberg

Who is the love of your life?
“A number of people…I use to have one a day…had someone I loved for 40 years…I was in love with Kerouac…Neal Cassidy…with whom I had a funny affair that lasted over 20 years..any fantasy I had as an adolescent.”

— Allen Ginsberg

As you get older what do you most fear?
“Cancer…pain…I have a short one line poem ‘Get use to your body. Forget you were born. Suddenly, you’ve got to get out.’ How to approach death…how to leave the body…”
— Allen Ginsberg

Both Dylan and Kerouac think you’re a con-man. What did they mean by that?
“The trickster in them…it’s in reference to the trickster hero…last time I saw Dylan he asked me about Blake…Jokes …Characteristic of them.”
— Allen Ginsberg

How would you like us to remember you?
“The poem ‘Father Death Blues’…please let him go…continue your celebration…[singing---fruition of his Buddhist training] hey father death I’m flying home…hey poor man you’re all alone…hey old daddy I know where I’m going…father death don’t cry anymore…momma’s there underneath the floor…brother death please mind the store…old auntie death I hear your groans…old uncle death I see your bones…oh sister death how sweet your moans…oh children deaths go breathe your breaths… sobbing breaths so ease your deaths…pain is gone tears ate the rest…genius death your heart is done…lover death your body’s gone…father death I’m coming home…guru death your words are true…teacher death I do thank you for inspiring me to sing this blues…Buddha death I wake with you…Dharma death your mind is new…song of death we’ll work it through…suffering is what was born…ignorance made me forlorn…tearful truths I cannot scorn…father’s breath once more farewell…birth you gave was no faint pill…my heart is still as time will tell.”
— Allen Ginsberg

Random Transcription—so much more in interview… by Jennifer Kiley

“Diana” — The People’s Princess

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

“Diana” — The People’s Princess
Written by Jennifer Kiley
Wednesday 10th July 2013
Illustrated by j. kiley
Movie trailer & Interview
Posted on Friday 12th July 2013
FILM FRIDAY
dedicated to roger ebert film friday

Diana Princess of Wales  1284x1612

Diana Princess of Wales

“A whole younger generation never experienced the shock of the news of Diana’s death. It is strange remembering how sensational her death was? 9/11 now being the biggest thing imaginable. Diana’s death existed before Twitter and Facebook, before social media made everything common knowledge instantaneously, when it was still possible to tell people, face-to-face, about important news.” [Edited from an Offensive Article being Dismissive of Princess Diana. The part above which is edited in its content, was the only salvageable decent material that existed in the complete article. Otherwise, the rest was complete TRASH.]

diana with blue gem and tiara

I was shocked by her death. I was up late and a news report broke into the show I was watching saying that Princess Diana had been in a car crash in Paris, France.

diana looking depressed

There was so much speculation and disbelief. It wasn’t possible. But I felt that it couldn’t happen that she would die. I held out hope in my state of shock. I woke up Shawn, my partner, and told her what had happened. She got up and watched the report coming in directly from Paris, just outside that tunnel.

diana

For all we knew Diana was still alive. She spoke. Why didn’t they take her right to the hospital? They waited so long. She needed blood transfusions.

diana_princess_of_wales lounging

I hoped and watched. Shawn went back to bed after a while but I watched and waited to hear the news that she was going to be alright. That news never came. The news that came put me into a further state of shock and a deep feeling of mourning.

Diana in Angola Landmine Halo Trust Photo by Tim Graham  1962x3109

Diana in Angola Landmine Halo Trust Photo by Tim Graham

I had loved Diana and admired her. The one thing that she did that amazed me the most was when she publicly touched and hugged someone with AIDS. Before that moment, people just were not doing that. After Diana showed everyone that it was alright, it made such a major difference to those who had AIDS. They had become the new lepers of our society.

Diana-and-the-boys

I think Diana brought a humanity into the world. She was beautiful. She loved her children. She surrendered her life to satisfy the ghoulish cravings of a media out of control. They were like hyenas seeking their prey. Her openness taught people they didn’t need to be perfect.

Diana--Princess-of--Wales-princess

The way the royals treated her is not forgotten. Charles may have won the hearts of his royals but he fucked Diana over. She was an innocent when he thrust her into his life and rebuffed her when he got his two heirs. He was awful to her.

First Look at Naomi Watts as Princess Diana  658x872

First Look at Naomi Watts as Princess Diana

Let’s face it, there are a great many people who haven’t forgotten what he did to her. His insensitivity and use of her as a baby breeder and rejecting her once he got what he wanted. He was a shit. He may be a good father now. But he threw out his sons beloved mother. He trashed her in public. Yes, it was a public battle but she didn’t deserve anything that the royal family put her through.

Hello Magazine: Naomi Shines in New Role of DIana  2684x2319

Hello Magazine: Naomi Shines in New Role of Diana

Diana’s death was a tragedy. The way she affected the world produced such positive energy. Her causes received attention. She may have had some emotional problems but if you had to live through what the Windsor’s put her through you would have some deep emotional issues to deal with. Plus she was hounded everywhere she went.

lady diana with sons william and harry young

I don’t like to be around people and if I have to, then only one or two at a time. Can you imagine being thrust into the middle of a mob scene of flashing light bulbs and insensitive hustlers wanting the best photo so they could earn the bucks off of Diana’s soul. The Native Americans believed that your soul was robbed if a photograph was taken of you. How many souls did Diana have and lose to stay alive as long as she did.

Lady Diana   640x953

Lady Diana

I believe on the night of her death she was killed, murdered by vultures who circled her until she was dead and they could pick from her carcass at long last. Photographers wanted to get death shots. How horrible is that to be that insensitive and inhuman. They stalked her to death. The people she chose to love fucked her over every way that they could for most of her life.

Naomi Watts and Naveen Andrews as doctor  642x832

Naomi Watts and Naveen Andrews as doctor 642×832

Even as a child she was left, abandoned by the people who professed they would love her. And Charles, he was the worst of all. He paraded her in front of the public as his Cinderella. Diana was being offered the Fairy Tale Dream every child wants. To be rescued by your Prince. She thought and believed Charles’s sincerity. He was going to be her Prince and love her, and they would live happily-ever-after.

Naomi Watts as Diana  978x1523

Naomi Watts as Diana

Well, Charles had his Camilla. How fucked up was that to be fucking around while casting off casual comments about, well, what exactly is love, after all. This film of “Diana” with Naomi Watts brings up my anger. And to write a story in the mainstream media that no one cares any longer. They won’t even remember.

Naomi Watts as Diana Running from Paparazzi

Naomi Watts as Diana Running from Paparazzi

Well, I am not most people and Diana is still alive in spirit for me. How callous can someone be to degrade her memory to say she is gone and who cares. Well, I do hope that people still remember. I know her sons William and Harry remember. They needed her there to love them and they needed to love her, also.

Naomi Watts and Naveen Andrews in Character in "Diana"  634x421

Naomi Watts and Naveen Andrews in Character in “Diana”

To cast away someone’s life so easily and turn to the celebrities of today as having any kind of importance in comparison to what Diana did for the world. She was trying to love everyone. To help stop Landmines. To help those who accidentally stepped on them and lost limbs and needed help to become whole again.

Naomi Watts as Princess Diana 854x1230

Naomi Watts as Princess Diana

Personally, I believe deep inside the theories that she was a hindrance to certain people and needed to be dealt with and it needed to be done quickly. She was too powerful and her presence in the world was something that had to be taken care of and it had to be done soon. I do not believe for one minute that they needed to take so long to get her to a hospital. Hours passed and they waited. WHY?

Naomi Watts as Princess Diana First Look   789x1116

Naomi Watts as Princess Diana First Look

When the news came out live to announce that Princess Diana was dead. I broke out in tears. I woke up my partner to tell her the awful news. She got up to sit with me. It was unbelievable that any of this was happening. I cried for weeks. I watched the funeral and listened to the service. I was so upset. I felt inconsolable. Tears rolled down my face. When I heard Elton John sing the song he originally wrote for Marilyn Monroe and adapted it for Diana, there was a certain symmetry to that as I think of it now.

Naomi Watts as Princess Diana First Official Still  789x1116

Naomi Watts as Princess Diana First Official Still

They both were hounded to death by the press and treated like shit by men who tried to use them and control them but because they were too much themselves and much more popular than the men they were with they were thrown away. They were also made to look mentally unstable when I would say in all reality it wasn’t instability but plain sensitivity and abandonment and being used. And the lies that were created and spread to make them appear less than the royalty they both truly were.

Naomi Watts as Princess Diana in Director Oliver Herschbergels "Diana"  632x412

Naomi Watts as Princess Diana in Director Oliver Herschbergels “Diana”

Marilyn and Diana both died under the strangest of circumstances. I do not believe either died necessarily. Their deaths were well planned and carried out according to plan. Now you will probably think I am just a bit over the edge on this one. But think about the world we live in. Think of all the evil that exists in this world. Evil just gets good PR.

Naomi Watts "Diana" Naveen Andrews getting into car  837x1143

Naomi Watts “Diana” Naveen Andrews getting into car

Goodness makes people think you are weak and they can do with you what they want because who are they going to believe. The Prince and heir to the throne or the Princess that only earned that title by marrying the Prince with all the power. Don’t doubt that the Royal Family has power and connections and can have anything accomplished if they order it to be so.

NaomiWatts "Diana" with Naveen Andrews   1211x674

Naomi Watts “Diana” with Naveen Andrews

The intrigue in this world and what we are told to what actually happens. I would say there are more lies told than any truth that we have ever heard. The truth is buried. What is represented is what those in power want us to hear. They make up the stories and they spread them all over the media so effectively that we believe what we hear are the facts, the truthful facts. There is no such thing. Look at what they are doing with Trayvon Martin’s murder.

Naomi Watts films "Diana"  879x1120

Naomi Watts films “Diana” 879×1120

The media and courtroom coverage and the way the case is being played out makes me sick that they are pushing the falsehood that Trayvon was the pretended villain here. When he was stalked by a bully who just wanted to kill Trayvon because George Zimmerman said: “They always get away with it.” He was out that night to prove his point with the intent of murdering Trayvon Martin so he could put down the black man and show what a hero he was. You don’t think that jury isn’t lapping that all up.

Naomi Watts with Naveen Andrews "Diana"  975x1188

Naomi Watts with Naveen Andrews “Diana”

Those in power make up the truth. Anything could have proven Princess Diana was murdered but the facts are twisted by those who want the story to go a certain way. What better way to cover your complicity then to go and retrieve her body. All the deaths of famous people who are young and so suddenly die are always so questionable.

Naomi Watts on set as Princess Diana walking with Naveen Andrews   975x1118

Naomi Watts on set as Princess Diana walking with Naveen Andrews

And most of the time the comeback is suicide or accidental death. How many times do we have to hear that as the claim of how they died? When are we going to stop believing it. Facts are controlled and twisted and fixed to show the results that the powers that be want as their conclusions.

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Naomi Watts as Princess Di

So do you really think that Diana couldn’t have been saved if she were taken straight to the hospital? Why did they wait so long? Diana didn’t die accidentally any more than Marilyn did or that Marilyn committed suicide. It was the intent on those fateful evenings that both Diana and Marilyn died the way they did.

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Naomi Watts as Princess Diana

It was good for all involved that it happened the way it did and the results of their deaths turn out in the final report to read the way they did. Due to accidental causes. Nothing could have been done to save them. BS. All was wrong about the way both of them died. They were where they were when they died because it was set up that way. You don’t know who you can trust. Anyone is suspect.

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Naomi Watts as Princess Diana getting out of car into paparazzi 734×1093

I hope some truth comes out in this film “Diana.” They are going to deal with a story that is not known by the public. Diana was involved with Dr. Hasnat Khan. And from the reports the relationship was extremely painful for Diana. Is that why she turned to Dodi? She wanted to play. To forget about who the world wanted her to be. To really let go and get away from her stalkers. What is it that makes someone draw the evil to her like a powerful magnet? They swallowed her up by it.

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Naveen Andrews as Dr. Hasnat Khan in “Diana”

A fictional example is like the children did Sebastian in the Tennessee Williams play “Suddenly, Last Summer.” It starred Katherine Hepburn, Elizabeth Taylor and Montgomery Cliff in the film version. The children were starving and poor and Sebastian was Gay and wealthy. He would offer money to the children but they kept on wanting more. They started to chase Sebastian. He ran from them and they kept up the pursuit. He ended up at the top of a hill with no place to go. The children surrounded him. The nightmare ended by the children devouring him.

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Naomi Watts playing Princess Diana on her last night

That is what happened with Diana and that is what happened to Marilyn. Everyone wanted a piece of them. They hadn’t a chance to survive all those vultures. It was their destiny. They were murdered for their innocence, their generosity and their true spirit of life.

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Princess Diana in pale blue jacket

Diana’s funeral was given to her begrudgingly by the Crown. The people demanded it. It was an unusual spectacle but the people who truly loved Diana needed to say goodbye to what she once was and the memory she would become. She is not forgotten. No matter what the media says.

princess diana smiling dressed in black

Diana is the mother to the future King of England. And her grandchild is about to be born. If the baby hasn’t been born already. Oh, I do hope that the heir is named Alexandra. It’s a Girl. Diana would be pleased. I can feel her smiling now no matter what but I think a granddaughter would make her truly delighted.

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Princess Diana with quote from Antoine St. Exupery

I hope the film “Diana” with Naomi Watts and Naveen Andrews (“Lost” & “The English Patient”) will portray Princess Diana in a light that glows. If people really need to be reminded of who Diana really was, I hope they do her justice here. She was a blessing to the world that only knew her as their savior. The children she helped and the AIDS victims who felt like the untouchables until Diana came along and made them feel what a hug felt like again.

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Princess Diana practically a kid

That is what won me to Diana. When she showed the world they could have compassion for those in need. She wanted the ones who needed love to receive it. She wanted the broken to feel they were not forgotten. Her work wasn’t for photo opportunities. She had all that. She used her fame to help others be noticed and receive the help they needed.

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Princess Diana with baby William

She was killed to stop her from campaigning against Landmines, for loving a Muslim, for embarrassing the Crown. For just being more popular and noticed and cared about while the Crown was being rejected and people were beginning to talk about why the hell do we need a Monarchy anyway.

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Princess Diana working on Landmine Project

She truly was the people’s Princess but not just of Great Britain but of the World. And I miss her.

Princess-Diana with tiara

I was so surprised when I saw the Movie Teaser Trailer. Naomi looks enough like her one can escape into the story of the film, I believe. It will be voyeuristic to see this private side of Diana’s life that people do not know anything about.

Princess+Diana

Once again we will be looking from behind the closed doors and peering into Diana’s inside world. I hope she doesn’t mind if we want to take another look. They are going to show the side where she goes all out for the Landmine cause.

princess-diana dates

I do hope it is a Great film and not something that is filled full with gossip. That would really bother me. I want more from seeing “Diana” than that. Written by Jennifer Kiley

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Princess Diana unique images of a Diva


Definition of Diva in this instance: 1.to describe a person who exudes great style and personality with confidence and expresses their own style and not letting others influence who they are or want to be. 2. A person whose character makes them stands out from the rest.

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Diana — Official Teaser Trailer 2013 [HD] Naomi Watts

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Naomi Watts on playing Princess Diana

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“Diana” film on location in the Mediterranean

Princess Diana Funeral – Elton John – Candle In The Wind (Goodbye England’s Rose)

Princess Diana  709x709

Princess Diana

QUOTATION by MARCEL PROUST:

“People do not die for us immediately, but remain bathed in a sort of aura of life which bears no relation to true immortality but through which they continue to occupy our thoughts in the same way as when they were alive. It is as though they were traveling broad.” ― Marcel Proust

Princess Diana  792x594

Princess Diana

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

Private Writings: Chapter #17 — Infatuation to Fantasy

private writings to a psychoanalyst (c) Jk 2013
Private Writings: Chapter #17 — Infatuation to Fantasy
Written by Jennifer Kiley
Illustrated by j. kiley
Intro and First Letter Published March 19th 2013
Published Early Tuesday AM
Posted 9th 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 #17 — Infatuation to Fantasy

Tuesday, January 22nd, 2008

Dear Annie,

Tales of my history has been greatly exaggerated. Not really. I never talk about it. Once I made the mistake of making a list of sex partners. I do not include abusers, pedophiles. That wasn’t sex. It had nothing to do with sex. They were all about abuse, power and control. Overpowering a child, what the fuck is that. You really are showing your sexual prowess. Not really. More like your sexual impotency and powerlessness. There is nothing in me feeling empathy for a pedophile. They are are lower than the scum on scum of the scum of the earth.

I made the list. Don’t we all. If not on paper, at least in our heads. Mine, I needed to write down, otherwise, I would lose count. The length or number of partners is created by a mix of sexual abuse and bipolar hyper-sexuality. Which when I look back and compare behavior with symptoms I am aware of today, match up perfectly with a combination of complex-PTSD and Bipolar competing in a challenge. Results are, who can create the most havoc, do the most damage and instill the most shame.

I am a card carrying lesbian. It has nothing to do with my abuse, bipolar or not getting love from my mother, father or anyone in my family except one. So when sex officially starts for me, on the record, my earlier male sex partners, I promise this could be a long story, but right to the point, I will state, all turned out to be gay. It is funny if you think about it. My abusers were from both sexes, all qualify as pedophiles but I wouldn’t give them the satisfaction of considering or registering them as gay or lesbian. Being gay or lesbian is an honour. I would include in this group, transsexuals, bisexuals, asexuals, pansexuals, and even our friendly heterosexuals.

Excluded are homophobic-sexuals, fundamentalist-sexuals, evangelical-sexuals, westboro southern baptist-hatred-sexuals, tea bagger-sexuals, homophobic-homosexuals-in-the-closet-sexuals-who-hate-homosexuals & pass-laws-to-make- homosexuality-or-any-sexuality-illegal-hate-women’s-rights-sexuals, and chicken-shit-republicans-who-haven’t-the-guts-or-balls-to-stand-up-to-the-mother-fuckers. This may not cover all of them but touches on some of the basic haters of anything sexual. Ah, one more inclusive group, those-who-think & feel-they-have-the-rights-over-womens-bodies & can-do-what-they-want-including-mutilation-murder-&-honour-killing-mother-fuckers.

Now back to something pleasant. My first gay bar, I ran into a guy I went to college with and yes we did the euphemism of sleeping together. We had sex. We worked on the college paper. He was my top editor when I was editor-in-chief. Now, back to the present. Here comes the stupid question. “What are you doing here?” He laughed, with his shit eating grin. “Are you kidding?” was his reply. “The same thing you are.”

Now how stupid am I. We were both there. It was a gay and lesbian bar. Dancing and booze, drugs on the down-low. Pretty much everyone was stoned out of their fucking minds on weed, poppers, hallucinogens, anything available. It was floating around the room or outside, you could find clusters smoking grass or hash. Before crack, thank you very much. All we wanted was a safe place to enjoy our major attractions, the same sex.

My buddy from college talked with me a long time that night. Found out the strangest things in our conversation. Turned out, he slept with the same guy I called my toker smoker sex buddy. With him I had a basic arrangement. He supplied the music, the smoke, the place and I would supply the sex. Not knowing about the bipolar proclivity to hyper-sexuality back then, I would safely say now I fell deeply into the category of someone who was hyper-sexual. It may have been the wrong sex but it was a need I had to satisfy. Never liked it, but did it anyway. Felt nothing. That’s not totally honest. Once, when I had the top, I got a major surprise. That was the first and only time ever. When you’ve being raped that position isn’t something rapists use. When he is fucking you he wants to see the damage he is causing and the power he is wielding.

I need a good, no, a great psychoanalyst. You, Annie. Dr. George is not long for my world. When he’s gone, I need you. He needs to disappear. Gone. Cleansed from my brain. Then I start new with you. You need to come through for me. Please.

Maybe a change of subject is needed. I don’t want to think about him or his fucking prick. I want to talk about something else. Someone else. Alison. Her presence almost gave me a heart attack. What the fuck was he thinking springing her on the group. Don’t misunderstand. I want her there, Oh, most definitely. When she started talking, I could barely breath. My eyes were on her. Her voice, her hair, the colour of her eyes, so blue, every feature. I time traveled. Then those words she spoke. Nearly fell on the floor. She announced, “I am a lesbian.” At that very moment I fell in love. It’s not like she wasn’t looking at me with something special in her own eyes. I would swear she was flirting with me like she knew me.

What the fuck came over me. She’s so familiar. I know her. I’m sure of it. But my brain has amnesia. Why is she so fucking familiar? And another thing, I can’t seem to stop swearing. My anger is seething through every pore. I want to punch someone, I am so angry. I think it’s this film we’re working on. Scottie’s always away. I hate that.

I’m going to change the subject for a moment. I think it’s time to tell you the title of our film. I came up it one night. It just floated from my subconscious when I was talking with Scottie. I just said, “Stop! I got it. The film’s name is “Brief Sacrifice.” Tell me that isn’t cool, Scottie.” She liked it. Then she fell in love with the title. But, damn it, it’s taking Scottie away all the time now. There have been some weird problems. I think there’s a curse on the film. That damned briefcase.

You will never guess how the main character got it open. Before I tell you part of the secret, I think you need to know the main character’s name. I told you the title, I might as well fill you in on some other details, Her name, which I feel is quite brilliant of me and Scottie did help. In fact, she helped a lot. She said, she liked the name I decided on. After throwing out names I found online for hours. I found it. Her name is Carter McLeod. She’s British and simply divine. The films takes place in London, mostly, and a few other places. But not going there yet. Now isn’t that the coolest name. I see a future for her. Carter McLeod. I just love the sound of it. And now, I know you will want to know who’s playing Carter McLeod. Scottie decided on one of my favorite new British actors. Try to guess. I’ll give you a hint. She was nominated for a BAFTA for Best Actress in 2007. Yes, she was. She should have won. I think she was robbed. I can’t even remember who beat her. Let me put you out of your misery. My all time favorite actor right now. It’s Natalie Stephens. I just dream about her. Beautiful, androgynous and sexy. Knowing she is playing the character I wrote is such a satisfying feeling. It’s sure to draw a huge audience. But back to what’s going on with that damned briefcase.

There is a secret pocket hidden on the surface of the leather. Undetectable. But Carter just kept running her hands over the surface, feeling for anything unusual. It’s like she were psychic. She found a thin line, like an old scar. It didn’t happen right away. Finding it, you would think was the difficult part. No, it wasn’t. How to get underneath the surface of the skin of the case, that was a whole other nightmare. That’s for next time I write.

I gave you the character’s name, and told you who the actor is playing the part. She really is great. Whenever I was on the set during the filming, I couldn’t believe Scottie got her to sign the contract. But Scottie can charm anyone, she’s so gorgeous and radiant, such a subtle quiet charm. Plus Scottie Andrews has the director’s touch, and everyone knows it, and wants to work with her. She melts everybody who meets, female and male, but hands off, she’s mine. I’ll scratch anyone’s eyes out that try to come between us.

It just came to me. I must be losing my mind. I just realized who Alison is. Damned idiot, I am. She’s Alison Porter. She made at least two films with Scottie. She’s acted the words I’ve written. Oh, my god, how the hell could I forget who she is. She looks so much like Tosh. Like they were twins. You do know who Alison Porter is, right? No one breathed a word. I know they were recent films. My short term memory is too fucked up. The films haven’t been released yet. That’s why. Post-production. Scottie works on so many films. I can’t keep track. Even if I’m the one writing them. Once in her hands, I only check in when rewrites are needed. I do like some of the sets but not great about being around people. And when they’re famous, the crowds gather and that really freaks me out. Usually stay home and Skype or email the changes. Talk on Skype with Scottie all the time that way. Holy, shit. Alison Porter. I am in love with her.

You did know who Tosh was. Alison is so much like her. Tosh was a singer. She composed her own music. It was so poetic. The lyrics crushed your heart. Where she found that pain. I only knew her such a short time. I never mentioned why we met or how. At least, I don’t think I did. Scottie approached her about using some of her music in one of her films. I keep saying her films. I feel they are our films. If she didn’t have my story and words, there wouldn’t be a film. I digress. Sorry. Scottie contacted Tosh’s manager or one of her people did. But Scottie talked directly with Tosh. They hit it off. She liked Scottie’s films. Anyway, Scottie invited her to our home for dinner. Over champagne, tokes of smoke, and great Italian cuisine, we both fell in love with her. Now, don’t worry about Scottie. Tosh was someone special but I wasn’t going to ever leave Scottie for anyone, no matter what I felt. Tosh, though, she tore my heart out. I was so in love. It was so special. She didn’t want sex. She wanted to show me what love was. Scottie is shy and she loves me but it wasn’t the same thing.

How do I explain when you meet a soul mate that you’ve known through a hundred lifetimes. That was Tosh. Scottie and I are new in our life times. We debated in past lives. Like great philosophers who could never convince the other of their conclusions as being the one that had the right answers or at least, the most accurate of conclusions. We were philosophers together. Tosh was Sappho. She was the lover of women. She knew the melody, the poetry, how to tenderly touch inside your soul, without ever touching any part of your flesh. She respected my restrictions. Her sensitivity picked up my reluctance to have physical contact. Scottie, also, understood that restriction. We did make love, Scottie and I, but I always had to stop. It just freaked me out. Scottie promised she could accept that from me. She would never force me to do anything I didn’t want to do. It’s just that, I can’t do anything.

Tosh reached me in other ways. I wrote about her kiss. It was light as a butterfly on your naked skin. It didn’t threaten. It was as far away from forceful as one could find. She wrote music for me. I listen to it all the time. It is part of the memory that I have left of her.

I am tired. This is all I can write this week. I will add one thing. Seeing Alison makes me feel like there is promise for the future. Not everything is about loss.

Now you just have to stay on my side and help me heal. I need deep healing from someone who can reach inside of me the way your feelings do. I trust you Annie. Don’t ever go away.

That is all I have to give for now. Wow. How amazing is life.

Fondly,
Madison

ATTENTION ANNIE: At this moment I am not trying to be a coward, but I feel if I hold back now or never send this to you, I am freeing myself up to write whatever without censorship. On some future date, if trust grows, I will release my letters to you. What I write in honesty, I will keep confidential. On my honour, no others shall see these pages.
Regards,
Madison Taylor

Fantasy Sets for Film: BRIEF SACRIFICE with Lead Character CARTER MCLEOD. {played by BAFTA Nominated Actor NATALIE STEPHENS} Savannah Cats are Carter’s. Screenplay: MADISON TAYLOR. Director: SCOTTIE ANDREWS

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Brief Sacrifice mansion — film set

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Brief Sacrifice — rustic den film set

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Brief Sacrifice — Jasper — Jax & James in foreground — Savannah kittens when they were 4 weeks old – grown up in film

Somewhere In Time – John Barry

flowing liquid gold (1)it’s flowing liquid gold

4p a world in tree greena world in tree green

hands reaching out into rain

Infatuation To Fantasy
By Madison Taylor
January 21st 2008

A star sparkling in my presence
Heat and fire escape from her eyes
Wildness – courage and strength
Pour from her soul
Calling out to me
Noticing me as I notice her
Feeling her touch
Caressing softly-a feather’s down

A bird sits on my shoulder
Speaking her language
Whispering into my ear
Translating her messages
As she meant them for me
Such personal meanings
Making me blush
A hue of pale cardinal
The quickness of blood
Rushing the surface of my flesh
So secret in meaning
Attempts to comprehend the crypticism
Expressing my shyness
As she mimics my spirit

My hesitancy to approach
The newness inside of us
Though powerful in character
Certain reservations necessary
Need not rush
No need to overwhelm
Subtlety is more sensuous
Building to a slow crescendo
Oh-so much more enticing
The intrigue has time to grow
Developing in slow motion

Sensations growing inside
Building outward
Climbing higher
Touching the center
My body’s restrictions releasing
Allowing entrance to secrets
Releasing dreams
Creating meaning

My throat’s breathing
In shallow motions
Sounds effecting my senses
Opening the pathway
Wanting to scream
Holding back
Becoming too restrictive
Overtaking control
Release happens
Pleasure surrendered
Now falling backwards
Overcome by falling
Relaxation overwhelming
The awakened state slipping away
Morpheus calling out for dreams
Eyes close in the darkness
Unconsciousness drifting
Lifting floating body
Awareness liberated
Sleep thoroughly attained

© madison taylor 2008

candle flame flickering gif

le chateau de rocher by j. kiley (c) jennifer kiley 2013Le Chateau de Rocher is the home of Madison and Scottie and their three cats Mikey, Toker and Patrick

le chateau de rocher art gallery

Le Chateau de Rocher Art Gallery

QUOTATIONS from Private Writings

“A Dream

The beginning always starts out with a dream.
It is all a dream
And we are all players
In our own nightmares”
— Madison Taylor

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

“Who ever loved that loved not at first sight?”
Christopher Marlowe for “Hero and Leander”

“A therapeutic relationship is often more psycho-emotionally intimate than a marriage, or a romantic attachment. I know things about my patients that they would never dream of revealing to their spouses or families. Why is that? One word — trust. If you do not have a connection with a therapist, you cannot trust them. If you do not have trust, you will not expose yourself, and if you do not expose your innermost being, what good is the therapy?” — unknown but ask any great therapist

“Men have called me mad, but the question is not yet 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…” — Edgar Allan Poe

QUOTATIONS on INFATUATION:

“The world was collapsing, and the only thing that really mattered to me was that she was alive.” ― Rick Riordan, The Last Olympian

“Yes, I was infatuated with you: I am still. No one has ever heightened such a keen capacity of physical sensation in me. I cut you out because I couldn’t stand being a passing fancy. Before I give my body, I must give my thoughts, my mind, my dreams. And you weren’t having any of those.” ― Sylvia Plath, The Unabridged Journals of Sylvia Plath

“Good night, good night! parting is such sweet sorrow,
That I shall say good night till it be morrow.”
― William Shakespeare, Romeo and Juliet

“I think it is all a matter of love; the more you love a memory the stronger and stranger it becomes” ― Vladimir Nabokov

“What she had realised was that love was that moment when your heart was about to burst.” ― Stieg Larsson, The Girl with the Dragon Tattoo

“When you have seen as much of life as I have, you will not underestimate the power of obsessive love.” ― J.K. Rowling, Harry Potter and the Half-Blood Prince

“I feel intensely about the physical form of the female body. The smooth caressing line of the breasts. Followed by all parts of a woman are so soft and touchable. The heights one can take the sensations when making love. With a therapist who is male, they do not have this form that causes desire to bloom. It is just plain out inappropriate behavior and throw in a touch of sexual harassment to boot. I don’t want to see any man’s junk unless it is on screen and only if it is actually quite lovely. But I do not want my analyst going anywhere near that subject matter unless I am talking about an abuser raping me. Enough said.” — Madison Taylor, Letters of Import: Infatuation To Fantasy 17

FIRST ART ACQUISITION OUTSIDE OF INHERITANCE

entering the soul connection

The Soul Connection

play is not just play meryl streep

“Stories We Tell”

colours multi psychedelic divider for posts new
“Stories We Tell”
New Documentary by Sarah Polley
Post Created by Jk the secret keeper
Created June 9th 2013
Posted June 12th 2013
colours multi psychedelic divider for posts new

sarah polley actor writer director shooting new documentary : stories we tell"  680x478

sarah polley actor writer director shooting new documentary: stories we tell”


colours multi psychedelic divider for posts new
Stories We Tell: A post by Sarah Polley
August 29th, 2012
Documentary
Filmmaker Sarah Polley about her new film, Stories We Tell.

Today in Venice my latest film, Stories We Tell, will be screening for the first time. Until now, thanks to the extraordinary decency of many people – including some journalists who have known the story for years and kept it secret – I have been able to keep its contents under wraps.

Knowing that people will now write about the film itself as well as the story it is based on, I’d like to explain a bit of the process that lead to the making of the film and why I’d like the film to speak for itself. I realize that I’m not nearly accomplished enough to write this kind of blog without apology. The world is not waiting for my next film! But because I am hoping to not do any press or interviews about the film for its festival life, I do feel I owe an explanation to the journalists who have helped me keep this secret and been respectful of my process for some time.

Here is the story of how this film came to be, and why I hope people will write about the film itself and not only the story it is based on.

In 2007 I was on set in Montreal, shooting a scene for the film Mr. Nobody. I received a phone call from a friend warning me that a journalist had found out a piece of information about my life that I had kept a secret for a year. I got in touch with the journalist and begged him not to print the story. It was a story that I had kept secret from many people in my life including my father. It took some time and many tears to convince the journalist not to print the story within the week, but I left that conversation convinced that it was not a secret I could keep for long, and that if I wanted the people in my life and outside my life to know the story in my own words, I would have to take action.

I flew to Toronto that night to tell my father the news. He was not my biological father. This had been confirmed by a DNA test with a man I had met a year earlier. I had met my biological father almost by accident, though I had long suspected based on family jokes and rumours that my mother may have had an affair that led to my conception.

My father’s response to this staggering piece of news was extraordinary. He has always been a man who responds to things in unusual ways, for better or for worse. He was shocked, but not angry. His chief concern, almost immediately, was that my siblings and I not put any blame on my mother for her straying outside of their marriage. He was candid about his own lack of responsiveness towards her and how that may have led her to the point where she sought out the affection of another person. And then he began to write. And write and write and write.

He wrote the story of their marriage, her affair (which he put together from other people’s memories), and his relationship with me. He wrote about our need to tell stories.

My biological father, at my behest, had also begun writing the story of his relationship with my mother. He is a fine storyteller too and one of the most interesting people I’ve ever met. Each of us had a deep and growing need to tell the story, different parts of it, in different ways, with emphasis on different details, in a way that reflected our own experience and what was most important to us as we are now.

My siblings began telling the story to their friends. Journalists who heard the story from various sources began calling me and asking me to be interviewed about this discovery. Everyone who heard the story seemed to want to own it. Up until then many people had mused aloud to me that the story would make a great film. I disagreed. While it had huge relevance and emotional impact for the people close to it, I felt that this story was in fact quite common. I felt I had seen this film before. However, the process of watching a story take on a life of its own, mutate, and change in so many other people’s words fascinated me. And as the story was told, or perhaps because the story was told – it changed. So I decided to make a film about our need to tell stories, to own our stories, to understand them, and to have them heard.

Personal documentaries have always made me a bit squeamish. I’ve seen some brilliant ones, but they often push the boundaries of narcissism and can feel more like a form of therapy than actual filmmaking. (Though I could listen to anyone’s therapy session and be entertained, I think.)

I’m not claiming that my film lacks self involvement but what I wanted most was to examine the many versions of this story, how people held onto them, how they agreed and disagreed with each other, and how powerful and necessary creating narrative is for us to make sense of our bewildering lives. I wanted the story told in the words of everyone I could find who could speak about it. Whatever my own feelings are about the events that are outlined, about the many dynamic and complicated players or the stunning, vibrant woman my mother was, they are ephemeral, constantly out of my grasp, they change as the years pass. (I declined to use a “voice of God” first person voice over narration because it felt false, self involved, and besides the point.) But I found I could lose myself in the words of the people closest to me. I can feel and hear and see their histories, and I wanted to get lost, immerse myself in those words, and be a detective in my own life and family.

Anything I want to say myself about this part of my life is said in the film. It’s a search still, a search for meaning, truth, for whether there can ever be a truth. I have a lot of trepidation about doing interviews and being asked how I feel about it all. I worry about seeing my deepest feelings about my life taken out of context or shortened or made to fit into someone’s already written story. And I have spent five years deciding, frame by frame and word by word, how to tell this story in this film. I’d hate to see my inability to think before I speak wipe out years of work with one stupid comment that I haven’t thought through.

I have decided not to do any interviews about this film until the film is released theatrically and I hope that doesn’t offend, or that journalists who are assigned to cover the film understand this choice after seeing it. I’m sure it’s annoying to not have a new angle or a different quote than other journalists and I’m really sorry to create that problem for the people who decide to write about it. But I desperately want, at least while the film is on the festival circuit, to have people experience and write about the film before the story – or to experience the many stories that this story has become as opposed to just my version of it. It is, after all, why I made the film in the first place. It’s oblique I know. The film is much less oblique than this fearfully written blog. I’m trying to preserve as much of the experience of viewing it for the first time as I can for those who wish to see it, for better or for worse.

I learned so much along the way. I got to know my mother who died when I was 11 in a way that isn’t usually possible for people who lose parents young. I got to know so much about my family, about filmmaking, about trusting collaborators to keep making the movie when you need to just walk away for a time (for this I have to especially thank my editor Mike Munn, my DOP Iris Ng, Producer Anita Lee and Production Coordinator Kate Vollum, as well as others, who all kept on making the film while I hid in a corner for periods of time). I also learned that people can be more decent and ethical than you imagine. Several journalists, including Brian Johnson and Matthew Hays (and more recently Gabe Gonda, the arts editor at The Globe and Mail), have known this story for years. And while they very much wanted to print it, they all respected my wish to keep this story private until I was ready to tell it in my own words. I think arts journalists in Canada are made of good material generally. I’m so thankful to them for letting me have the space to explore this on my own, ask the questions I wanted to ask, and let this film come out into the world. I never could have made it if I hadn’t had that space and time.

Making this film was the hardest thing I’ve ever done. It took five years and tormented me. I didn’t want to make it, and I wanted to give up many times along the way, but I also didn’t want this story to be out there in the words of someone other than the many people who lived it. Now it will be written about in many other people’s words, and I’m finally at peace with that. With the inaccuracies, with the new insights that I may not have arrived at on my own, with the broken telephone that happens when “concentric circles of people,” as my biological father says, begin telling their own stories without experiencing the original versions. That is what the film is about anyway and after five long years I’m actually looking forward to its arrival in the world, and the inevitable mess that comes from a story being told and retold.
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“Stories We Tell”

There’s family, there’s history and then there’s the truth, but as Sarah Polley explores in her beautiful and uniquely moving documentary “Stories We Tell,” all of those terms carry different weight depending on the eye of the beholder. Begun as a project to investigate her own family background, “Stories We Tell” blossoms into a riveting portrait of a family still carrying secrets, heartache and accepted truths that sometimes fly in the face of reality. But Polley’s entire point is that one person’s “reality” is someone else’s “fiction” and her brilliant film almost deconstructs itself as it goes along, calling into question its own presentation of the “facts” yet never feeling academic, and always wholly emotional. It’s the rare documentary that we’d argue contains “spoilers” which aren’t just part of the narrative (though it’s more enjoyable if you’re in the dark a bit,) but the presentation itself. One of the most intelligent documentaries we’ve seen in quite some time, at times enlightening and profound, the film proves the simple truth that the “Stories We Tell” about our own lives can’t always be trusted.
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Sarah Polley Examines Her Own Family In Lovely, Fascinating ‘Stories We Tell’
Venice Review
by Oliver Lyttelton
August 29, 2012

Sarah Polley has a secret. It’s a secret that, remarkably, she kept under wraps to all but friends and family until the film screened at the Venice Film Festival this morning. It’s a secret that’s seemingly informed her two directorial efforts to date, “Away From Her” and “Take This Waltz,” and is the subject matter of her third film, and first documentary, “Stories We Tell.” And it’s a secret that’s led to her finest work as a director so far.

It’s also a secret that is so important to the film that it would be virtually impossible to discuss it without giving it away. So, while Polley has written about it online today, knowing it going in might theoretically hamper your enjoyment of the film, the spoiler-phobic should be warned that from here on out, we will be giving certain things away. Be assured that fans of Polley’s work to date will be delighted by a documentary that serves simultaneously as a gripping mystery, a moving record of a family and a fascinating investigation into the nature of truth, memory, and the documentary form itself.
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*SPOILERS AHEAD*

Made up of interviews and what initially appears to be archive home movie footage (in the manner of Jonathan Caouette’s “Tarnation”), the film begins as a portrait of the director’s actress mother Diana Polley, and of her marriage to Polley’s father Michael, which ended when Diana passed away from cancer when Sarah was eleven. To build up this picture, Polley has interviewed her father (who was also an actor for a time), her siblings, and her parents’ friends, who paint a picture of a vibrant, complicated woman in a relationship that was loving, but not entirely happy.
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And then comes the secret. Her brothers and sisters had long joked that Sarah didn’t look much like her father, and when she turned 18, began to make enquiries, discovering that her mother may have had an affair with a co-star when she was in a play in Montreal around the time that Sarah was conceived. Polley is eventually intrigued enough to seek out Canadian producer Harry Gulkin (the Oscar-nominated “Lies My Father Told Me”), an old friend of her mother’s, to ask. In fact, Harry reveals that he was the one who had an affair with Diana, and suspects that he’s her father. In fact, having now met her, he’s sure of it.

On one hand, Polley tells this story as truthfully as is possible – through the words of those who it involves, or who were there for the aftermath, like her four siblings. Indeed, the bulk of the film’s narration comes from a lengthy essay her father wrote after the fact, read in his own dulcet tones (Polley shoots within the recording studio as he does so, charmingly showing her directing her father, and her own nervous energy, in the process). At the same time, by the very nature of the film, she’s editorializing, manipulating the narrative for maximum shock value, and shooting reconstructions of what initially looked like archive Super 8 footage, with actors playing her parents in their younger days, and the real-life participants playing themselves in more recent times.

But to her credit, Polley doesn’t just acknowledge these liberties, she makes them an intrinsic part of the film, to the extent that she openly questions her own motivations for making the documentary. She’s essentially encouraging the audience to ask questions about how possible it is to closely recreate and document the past, and whether a documentary can achieve those goals.

It’s fascinating stuff, doubly so because of the clear parallels with her previous directorial efforts. Her real story is reflected both in the late-in-life adultery in “Away From Her,” and the fallibility of monogamy, and the risks of not making the leap into the unknown of “Take This Waltz.” (Interestingly, her sister comments at one point that after discovering Sarah’s news, all three Polley daughters were soon divorced). She keeps herself mostly off screen, and yet the director is exposing just as much of herself as anyone.

Which makes it all sound quite high-minded, but the film’s plot, if you can call it that, grips like a thriller, and Polley takes care to introduce the participants as characters rather than as her relatives. And all of her “characters,” from wisecracking older brother Mark to the Albert Einstein-ish Harry to the quiet, repressed, impossibly generous Michael (the source of much of the film’s emotion) are hugely entertaining, and are simply a pleasure to spend time with.

There are some issues. Shying away from introducing her interviewees clearly at the beginning means that even by the end, you’re sometimes struggling to work out how they relate to one another. And the film drags in its conclusion, stacking multiple endings on top of one another. They all contain good material, but one does start to shift a little in the seat. But for the most part, it’s a film that tickles both the brain and the heart, and by some distance Polley’s most consistent, and best, work as a director to date. [A-]
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A Clip from Sarah Polley’s documentary on “Stories We Tell”

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Private Writings: Chapter #12 — Last Time This Year

private writings to a psychoanalyst (c) Jk 2013
Private Writings: Chapter #12 — Last Time This Year
Written by Jennifer Kiley
Illustrated by j. kiley
First Published March 19th 2013
Published Early Tuesday AM
Chapter #12 Posted 4th June 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 #12 — Last Time This Year

Tuesday  December 18th 2007

Dear Annie,

This week I want to tell you some serious shit about myself. Letting my guard down almost to naked in these revelations. You know more about me in these letters than anyone does so far. And I haven’t even started filling you in on anything that gets close to the deeper meanings in my life.

I have been reading a great deal lately about bipolar disorder. Nobody has come out and told me straight that it is part of what I am dealing with in all my weirdness and bizarre behaviors. But I am not without analyzing the material and figuring out what seems too familiar to my life. I may not see things accurately from the inside but when I see it in Scottie’s eyes and read it in my writing I know without any real reluctance that bipolar visits me on a regular schedule with its major fluctuations.

I have the speed of someone who mainlines coke. Try having a conversation with me when I am not depressed or suicidal. How often does that occur. My wanting to die. Being obsessed in my mind all the time with thinking of ways to cut open my arms and bleeding out. It seems a gruesome way to die but even though blood usually bothers me, in this state of mind it seems the easiest way to slip away into death. Losing consciousness into a slow comatose state. Pain becomes unnoticeable. It really ends the pain. Suicide does. It’s not death I seek. It’s peace. Pain free and finished. No more memories. No more primal screams inside my mind. No emotions. No tears. Stolen. Robbed. Buried deep within my soul so it bears the suffering I should feel. What I feel is lack of feeling anything when I am deeply depressed. Maybe I am wrong about that. Maybe depression is the strongest of feelings. It may be all of them at once. All the negative emotions ripping out my heart at one time.

Who says bipolar isn’t fun. It can take you higher than a kite. Not a drug high, though that is kind of what you feel. But in this instance I am speaking about real flying high in the sky. Soaring. Catching the up draft. Being your own motor and wings. When I write on bipolar, I am hooked up to the muse and she goes fast. She is one blazing force of nature. Hot waves of energy pass through me. All that she wants is to give freely but you need to accept her terms. Simple really: just create until you can’t see the screen of your laptop. All becomes a blur and even then you must keep moving forward until the last ounce of creativity is used up. You will know when. You just stop. There is nothing left but to end it.

I read a book called “Touched With Fire” by Dr. Kay Redfield Jamison. She has become my Goddess. Her words speak to my mind like she lives inside of it. Her theory about creativity and divine madness and the artistic temperament all touch my insides like fire has scorched my body with truth. When I was a teenager, I had the strangest idea that I was going crazy. But why would I even think that. What did it feel like to be crazy? I had no idea but somehow I thought I was headed in that direction. It felt like it would be so easy to just lose your mind. It would break away just like that. Well, reading “Touched With Fire” was actually reassuring. Knowing all these famous and creative people who had bipolar and a divine madness, as I have grown to like it referred to. An artistic temperament that made you delusional, but made you one hell of a creative artist. A poet, a musician, a writer, a painter, from Lord Byron to Beethoven, Lincoln to Churchill, Kurt Cobain to Emily Dickinson. People from all professions that contributed great amounts of creative work to charge up the world with gifts unimaginable.

It does make one grandiose at times. Feeling better about yourself. Going on an ego trip one minute and feeling like death is the only answer the next. It destroys your ability to think clearly or tell the difference between reality and delusions that appear so real and believable. It is so destructive and then so creative and productive. Bipolar enables you to produce feats of creation beyond the bounds of most people. You go for hours and days just creating. Your concentration is unbelievable and so crystal clear and focused. Everything keeps pouring out of you.

It’s balancing the mood swings that make it so difficult. I will not take psych meds. They are poison to me. They have fucked up my health. They’ve caused me to faint. I’ve had seizures. My mind gets so dulled out I can’t think clearly or remember anything. It’s fucked up my short term memory so I am lost at recalling anything someone has just told me. Terrible with names I heard a moment ago. I try to say something and if I don’t get it out in that moment, it is gone. Blue what, I ask myself. Why did I say blue and then forget what if anything did it mean? It is frustrating. When I get into conversations with people, I get so excited that I must speak more words in a minute than anyone speaks in an hour. And topics are like butterflies flitting from flower to flower but in a hurricane wind storm.

The divine madness does allow me to be creative. It frees my mind to release control and let ideas and words and images flow through my mind and out onto paper. Thank the goddess I have a computer so I can almost keep up with my thoughts. My hand would break if I had to write as fast as my thoughts pour out of me. The drawback is the pain I feel going from pure elation to feeling terror and depression and the loneliness I feel when all I want to do is die. There is such a hopelessness. I cannot reach out to anyone. What do I say? I am too frightened or introverted to open up about the depth of my darkness. It is an all-consuming dark that takes over. Blinding me to anyone or anything. I have figured out how to work through the suicidal feelings and the depth of the depression that pulls me into the darkest, deepest of holes. I write. I keep writing. Anything that comes into my mind. I have no shame about speaking the truth. There is no honour in silence. The world must know and understand that there are places the mind can take you that do exist but only some can enter.

This is what you would be working with if you ever became my psychoanalyst. You would hear my stories and live through my mind and delusion and irrational thoughts. I have ruined relationships, I am sure because I had no idea the bipolar was causing me to behave in ways that I did not understand. I have hurt my partner because of what I thought I needed. It fucks you up sexually. Being abused when I was a child screwed me up to have sex with anyone but it also set me up to think or believe that is the only way one can relate to another human being. Everything between myself and another person always became sexual. It wasn’t because I wanted sex. It was because that was the way it was supposed to be. So I was taught by my abusers. If you wanted attention, you spent time with them and when they tried to touch you, you tried to stop them but it never worked. If you didn’t want attention they just raped you and molested you. It taught me that was the way life was. Sick. Demented. Perverted. Cold. Damaging. Surreal. Abusive. Everyone abused me except one. She was someone special. Someday I will tell you all about her.

It seems sex is supposed to be one of the addictions that bipolars have. Would I say I was addicted to sex. Yes. Not in the way you think. It was really fucked up for me. Now I don’t want anyone touching me.

If we work together, I hope you can help me with this. I don’t trust anyone but for an unknown reason I am drawn to you and I believe you are the one who can help me. I have gone to so many shrinks. Some I became really attached to. But most of them fucked me up more than I already was. One even thought because I was obsessed with her that I was going to stalk her. She was the one that was crazy not me. I admit I do get obsessed but that is one of my personalities. That therapist knew that. She also knew that she became obsessed when she lost the only one who loved her. That person died suddenly and it crushed her. Shattered her into pieces. Left her feeling abandoned. Nobody to love her. So when anyone shows her any attention she is drawn to them like a magnet. She is so filled with needs. But the others let her have her needs and accept her. That therapist was a fool and really fucked up that alter to the point where she felt so bad about herself that she just wanted to disappear forever. Instead she just felt guilty about everything she felt and she started to feel that if she felt love that she was being bad. What kind of therapist drives a kid to feel that she is bad for feeling love?

These are issues that need to be worked on. It is an enormous job to take on the responsibility of us as a client. Mr. Xxx was a jackass. He had no idea who we were. He drove everyone underground into the darkest hole. We felt depressed all of the time. All we wanted to do was sleep. So that is exactly what we did. Sleep. All day. All night. Get up because Scottie made us feel we needed to wake up. And we felt guilty leaving her alone by herself. Not that we were great company. All we did once we were awake was to watch TV until it was time to go back to bed. The only time we got up during the day was to go to out therapy appointments or to see the doctor. The world was fucked. We were fucked up. We just wanted to block out everything. We didn’t want to feel anything. Whenever we felt anything we just would fuck things up.

Now we actually have a chance to rejoin part of the human race. We may actually get to see you in therapy. Something might actually start to make us feel better. Right now that is the only hope we have. The hope that someday soon we can tell Mr. Xxx to go fuck himself. With great pleasure I would look forward to that moment. To really, actually, in a state of reality, I would be able to utter those words. “GO FUCK YOURSELF. IT IS OVER. I NEVER WANT TO SEE YOU AGAIN.” Exit stage left. Here it comes, the final curtain call with Mr. Xxx. The forceful and intentional slamming of his office door so hard that the reverberations would be felt all the way to the door of my home and Scottie would hear and applaud. That is the day I am waiting ever so patiently for. Do I have the guts to do that? You had better prepare yourself to wear headphones at that very moment. Be sure it will happen. Exactly when, is still to be determined. As a child I was a famous door slammer. I slammed my bedroom door so hard, so many times, that the last time I did it, it fell off its’ hinges and crashed to the floor. The truth. May the goddess strike me with lightning if I am telling a lie. Oh, by the way, I do not lie. I tell the truth. I am too honest for anyone to believe.

So there you have some of it. Do you still have the courage to take me on as your client? The last length of time that it took to write this letter has left me with a blank in my mind as to what exactly I shared with you in the words I wrote. And whether I have the courage to read this over is, at this very moment, an uncertainty. I may just take my chances that you will be able to accept my honesty and to get past it and accept the conditions of my paying you, or rather, my insurance paying you to hire you as my soon to be next psychoanalyst. I do hope this deal goes into effect in as short a time as possible. The waiting and anticipation is, pardon the expression, killing me, literally killing me. I have so little time left to deal with where I am now. I am in desperate need to change the conditions of my life and to rid myself of someone I need to be gone from my consciousness and I need you to help me do it.

I am not an extremely confident person at the moment. Do not let the bipolar or stronger personalities fool you. We are very afraid of change. We fear leaving our home to go anywhere. And now we have finally gotten to a place where it actually might happen. That we will in the real world, fire our psychotherapist, better recognized by the name Mr. Xxx, for all his perversely sick sense of humour and his tasteless innuendos of a sexual nature and the endless telling of his self-promoting and unwanted sharing of his personal life during my therapy time when we are supposed to be working on getting me into a better state of being. And added onto that, his egotistical need to be the smartest person in the room. It is sickening and I really want to see it come to an, unknowing on his part, ending and before the next full moon rising. That gives us some time but not more than I will manage to live through.

This has been exhausting but worth letting go of some truths. I am trying to be open with you and writing these letters is great practice for when the real therapy sessions actually happen in my waking life. You sitting across from me and my either lying down on the couch or sitting up facing you. I don’t know how traditional you will want to play it. We will see. Soon. Please make it soon.

Until next time, I hope things have progressed.

Regards,
Madison

ATTENTION ANNIE: At this moment I am not trying to be a coward, but I feel if I hold back now or never send this to you, I am freeing myself up to write whatever without censorship. On some future date, if trust grows, I will release my letters to you. What I write in honesty, I will keep confidential. On my honour, no others shall see these pages.
Regards,
Madison Taylor

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

Madison Tayler’s Fantasy of Annie Haskell’s Office as a Psychoanalyst.

Somewhere In Time – John Barry

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Don’t Lock Me Up
By Madison Taylor
December 16th 2007

Don’t lock me up
Don’t make me sleep
Losing consciousness
Loses part of me
Holding on awake
Needing senses sharp
Safety’s what I seek
Don’t want nightmares
Living inside of me
Roaming my sleep
Dead wanting me
If I’m awake
There’s no way out
To follow me
If I let go
Give in to them
Let sleep take hold
They’ll find me easy
Trap me, bind me
They’ll never ever
Let me go.

© madison taylor 2007

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Evanescence – Lithium — Private Writings: Chapter #12 — Last Time This Year

labyrinth of a wandering wonderland

The labyrinth called “Wandering Wonderland.” It is where Madison, Scottie and their cats Patrick, Toker and Mikey loves to escape to

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family gathering place and hangout

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Madison’s study/library

scottie's study library

Scottie’s study library

QUOTATIONS from: Private Writings

“A Dream

The beginning always starts out with a dream.
It is all a dream
And we are all players
In our own nightmares”
— Madison Taylor

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

“Who ever loved that loved not at first sight?”
Christopher Marlowe for “Hero and Leander”

“A therapeutic relationship is often more psycho-emotionally intimate than a marriage, or a romantic attachment. I know things about my patients that they would never dream of revealing to their spouses or families. Why is that? One word — trust. If you do not have a connection with a therapist, you cannot trust them. If you do not have trust, you will not expose yourself, and if you do not expose your innermost being, what good is the therapy?” — unknown but ask any great therapist

“Men have called me mad, but the question is not yet 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…” — Edgar Allan Poe

QUOTATIONS on BIPOLAR

“Others imply that they know what it is like to be depressed because they have gone through a divorce, lost a job, or broken up with someone. But these experiences carry with them feelings. Depression, instead, is flat, hollow, and unendurable. It is also tiresome. People cannot abide being around you when you are depressed. They might think that they ought to, and they might even try, but you know and they know that you are tedious beyond belief: you are irritable and paranoid and humorless and lifeless and critical and demanding and no reassurance is ever enough. You’re frightened, and you’re frightening, and you’re “not at all like yourself but will be soon,” but you know you won’t.” ― Kay Redfield Jamison, An Unquiet Mind: A Memoir of Moods and Madness

“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

“I compare myself with my former self, not with others. Not only that, I tend to compare my current self with the best I have been, which is when I have been mildly manic. When I am my present “normal” self, I am far removed from when I have been my liveliest, most productive, most intense, most outgoing and effervescent. In sort, for myself, I am a hard act to follow.” ― 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

“Bipolar robs you of that which is you. It can take from you the very core of your being and replace it with something that is completely opposite of who and what you truly are. Because my bipolar went untreated for so long, I spent many years looking in the mirror and seeing a person I did not recognize or understand. Not only did bipolar rob me of my sanity, but it robbed me of my ability to see beyond the space it dictated me to look. I no longer could tell reality from fantasy, and I walked in a world no longer my own.” ― Alyssa Reyans, Letters from a Bipolar Mother

“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

“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

“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

play is not just play meryl streep

Soul In Darkness Or In Light

Soul In Darkness Or In Light
X-TREME HAIKU: “DEPRESSION”
WRITTEN BY JENNIFER KILEY
ILLUSTRATED by j. kiley
POST CREATED MAY 26TH 2013
POSTED MAY 26TH 2013silver divider between paragraphs

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touching air to water dark yet light

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soul in darkness or in light by j. kiley © jennifer kiley 2013

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twisted japanese maple

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Evanescence — My Heart Is Brokensilver divider between paragraphsQUOTATIONS on DEPRESSION:

“Every man has his secret sorrows which the world knows not; and often times we call a man cold when he is only sad.” ― Henry Wadsworth Longfellow

“There are wounds that never show on the body that are deeper and more hurtful than anything that bleeds.” ― Laurell K. Hamilton, Mistral’s Kiss

“I didn’t want to wake up. I was having a much better time asleep. And that’s really sad. It was almost like a reverse nightmare, like when you wake up from a nightmare you’re so relieved. I woke up into a nightmare.” ― Ned Vizzini, It’s Kind of a Funny Story

“The best thing for being sad,” replied Merlin, beginning to puff and blow, “is to learn something. That’s the only thing that never fails. You may grow old and trembling in your anatomies, you may lie awake at night listening to the disorder of your veins, you may miss your only love, you may see the world about you devastated by evil lunatics, or know your honour trampled in the sewers of baser minds. There is only one thing for it then — to learn. Learn why the world wags and what wags it. That is the only thing which the mind can never exhaust, never alienate, never be tortured by, never fear or distrust, and never dream of regretting. Learning is the only thing for you. Look what a lot of things there are to learn.” ― T.H. White, The Once and Future King

“When you’re lost in those woods, it sometimes takes you a while to realize that you are lost. For the longest time, you can convince yourself that you’ve just wandered off the path, that you’ll find your way back to the trailhead any moment now. Then night falls again and again, and you still have no idea where you are, and it’s time to admit that you have bewildered yourself so far off the path that you don’t even know from which direction the sun rises anymore.” ― Elizabeth Gilbert

“When you’re surrounded by all these people, it can be lonelier than when you’re by yourself. You can be in a huge crowd, but if you don’t feel like you can trust anyone or talk to anybody, you feel like you’re really alone.” ― Fiona Apple

“Do you not see how necessary a world of pains and troubles is to school an intelligence and make it a soul?” ― John Keats, Letters of John Keats

“Listen to the people who love you. Believe that they are worth living for even when you don’t believe it. Seek out the memories depression takes away and project them into the future. Be brave; be strong; take your pills. Exercise because it’s good for you even if every step weighs a thousand pounds. Eat when food itself disgusts you. Reason with yourself when you have lost your reason.” ― Andrew Solomon, The Noonday Demon: An Atlas of Depression

“Why do you want to shut out of your life any uneasiness, any misery, any depression, since after all you don’t know what work these conditions are doing inside you? Why do you want to persecute yourself with the question of where all this is coming from and where it is going? Since you know, after all, that you are in the midst of transitions and you wished for nothing so much as to change. If there is anything unhealthy in your reactions, just bear in mind that sickness is the means by which an organism frees itself from what is alien; so one must simply help it to be sick, to have its whole sickness and to break out with it, since that is the way it gets better.”
― Rainer Maria Rilke, Letters to a Young Poet
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“Imagining…is better than remembering something”

“Imagining…is better than remembering something”
POST CREATED BY JENNIFER KILEY
ILLUSTRATED by j. kiley
Created May 23rd 2013
Posted May 24th 2013silver divider between paragraphs

garp book cover  634x963

garp book cover

silver divider between paragraphs“Imagining something is better than remembering something.” — John Irvingsilver divider between paragraphs
garp and helen outside house predisastered  812x543

garp and helen outside house predisastered

silver divider between paragraphs“Sometimes it is the only worthwhile product you can salvage from a day: what you make to eat.” — Garp, “The World According to Garp”

“Oh FUCK the longings and agonies of youth.” – T.S Garpsilver divider between paragraphs

garp and helen on bleechers  642x483

garp and helen on bleechers

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Q: What is your thoughts on the future of books? asking John Irving silver divider between paragraphs“If you are careful,’ Garp wrote, ‘if you use good ingredients, and you don’t take any shortcuts, then you can usually cook something very good. Sometimes it is the only worthwhile product you can salvage from a day; what you make to eat. With writing, I find, you can have all the right ingredients, give plenty of time and care, and still get nothing. Also true of love. Cooking, therefore, can keep a person who tries hard, sane.”

“You know, everybody dies. My parents died. Your father died. Everybody dies. I’m going to die too. So will you. The thing is, to have a life before we die. It can be a real adventure having a life.” — John Irving; The World According To Garpsilver divider between paragraphs

jenny with young garp  554x439

jenny with young garp

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THE WORLD ACCORDING TO GARP — FILM TRAILER silver divider between paragraphs

glenn close as jenny fields in "the world according to garp"  642x390

glenn close as jenny fields in “the world according to garp”

silver divider between paragraphs“A part of adolescence is feeling that there’s no one else around who’s enough like yourself to understand you.” — T.S. Garp, The World According to Garpsilver divider between paragraphs
dean of garp's school has head injury. jenny is telling him about how she conceived garp. he is shocked.  642x366

dean of garp’s school has head injury. jenny is telling him about how she conceived garp. he is shocked. his verbal response, being in a state of shock, “you raped a dying man!” now you will have to read the book or see film to find out why this is so hysterically funny.

silver divider between paragraphsBetween Helen and Garp, the Under Toad became their code phrase for anxiety. Long after the monster was clarified for Walt (‘Undertow, dummy, not Under Toad!’ Duncan had howled), Garp and Helen evoked the beast as a way of referring to their own sense of danger. When the traffic was heavy, when the road was icy – when depression had moved in overnight – they said to each other, ‘The Under Toad is strong today’.

‘Remember’, Duncan asked on the plane, ‘how Walt asked if it was green or brown?’

Both Garp and Duncan laughed. But it was neither green nor brown, Garp thought. It was me. It was Helen. It was the color of bad weather. It was the size of an automobile.” — John Irving in The World According to Garpsilver divider between paragraphs

helen at gym watching wrestling practice   1562x944

helen at gym watching wrestling practice

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John Irving – 2009 National Book Festivalsilver divider between paragraphsThe World According To Garp
The Hotel New Hampshire
The Cider House Rules
A Prayer From Owen Meanie
In Own Person
Last Night In Twisted Riversilver divider between paragraphs“You only grow by coming to the end of something and by beginning something else.” — John Irving, The World According to Garp

The amazing John Lithgow as Roberta Muldoon in “The World According to Garp,” a film based on John Irving’s novel of the same name. The 1982 movie includes John Lithgow as a transsexual ex-football player, Robin Williams as the writer T. S. Garp, and Glenn Close as Garp’s mother. Lithgow’s heartfelt performance won him an Academy Award nomination! The trailer from YouTube.silver divider between paragraphs

garp with roberta muldoon former football player on nfl now jenny's bodyguard  648x372

garp with roberta muldoon former football player on nfl now jenny’s bodyguard

silver divider between paragraphs“Imagining something is better than remembering something.” — John Irving, The World According to Garp

“Perhaps in every writer’s life there needs to be that moment when some other writer is attacked as unworthy of the job.” — John Irving, The World According to Garp

“Don Whitcomb would remember that Garp told him what the act of starting a novel felt like. ‘It’s like trying to make the dead come alive,’ he said. ‘No, no, that’s not right – it’s more like trying to keep everyone alive, forever. Even the ones who must die in the end. They’re the most important to keep alive.’ Finally, Garp said it in a way that seemed to please him. ‘A novelist is a doctor who sees only terminal cases,’ Garp said.” — John Irving, The World According to Garpsilver divider between paragraphs

John Irving At Homesilver divider between paragraphsExcerpt From: The World According To Garp:

Before we go to the story of the under toad I would like to quote one of my favorite lines from the book and the film. Garp says it to his son, Duncan, who is inside a baby carriage at the time. “Don’t be a baby Duncan, say ‘Da-Da.’ This line makes me laugh every time I hear it. Now to the Under Toad.

The Under Toad Is Strong Today

It was Walt’s fourth summer at Dog’s Head Harbor, Duncan remembered, when Garp and Helen and Duncan observed Walt watching the sea. He stood ankle-deep in the foam from the surf and peered into the waves, without taking a step, for the longest time. The family went down to the water’s edge to have a word with him.

“What are you doing, Walt?” Helen asked.

“What are you looking for, dummy?” Duncan asked him.

“I’m trying to see the Under Toad,” Walt said.

“The what?” said Garp.

“The Under Toad,” Walt said. ” I’m trying to see it. How big is it?”

And Garp and Helen and Duncan held their breath; they realized that all these years Walt had been dreading a giant toad, lurking offshore, waiting to suck him under and drag him out to sea. The terrible Under Toad.

Garp tried to imagine it with him. Would it ever surface? Did it ever float? Or was it always down under, slimy and bloated and ever-watchful for ankles its coated tongue could snare? The vile Under Toad.

Between Helen and Garp, the Under Toad became their code phrase for anxiety. Long after the monster was clarified for Walt ( “Undertow, dummy, not Under Toad!” Duncan had howled), Garp and Helen evoked the beast as a way of referring to their own sense of danger. When the traffic was heavy, when the road was icy – when depression had moved in overnight – they said to each other, “The Under Toad is strong today.”

“Remember,” Duncan asked on the plane, “how Walt asked if it was green or brown?”

Both Garp and Duncan laughed. But it was neither green nor brown, Garp thought. It was me. It was Helen. It was the color of bad weather. It was the size of an automobile.

(Excerpt from The World According to Garp by John Irving)silver divider between paragraphs

garp and helen in bed pre-cheating maybe  642x366

garp and helen in bed pre-cheating maybe

“‘Death, it seems,’ Garp wrote, ‘does not like to wait until we are prepared for it. Death is indulgent and enjoys, when it can, a flair for the dramatic.’” — John Irving; The World According to Garp (1978)

The World According to Garp by John Irving

The World According to Garp is a comic and compassionate coming-of-age novel that established John Irving as one of the most imaginative writers of his generation. A worldwide bestseller since its publication in 1978, Irving’s classic is filled with stories inside stories about the life and times of T. S. Garp, novelist and bastard son of Jenny Fields—a feminist leader ahead of her time. Beyond that, The World According to Garp virtually defies synopsis.silver divider between paragraphs

John IRVING on InnerVIEWS with Ernie Manouse
silver divider between paragraphs“Another thing I noticed while rereading was how clear Irving’s writing is, sentence by sentence. Critics don’t give Irving much credit for his prose style, maybe because his zany plots and characters overshadow it. (Or maybe it’s his enthusiastic use of italics and exclamation points.) But I was impressed by how gracefully he writes, even when he’s being “unsubtle.” There is a transparency to his exposition that is not easy to achieve, but Irving does nothing to draw attention to his effort. In contemporary fiction, this lack of preciousness is rare. Irving’s style has only become simpler over the years. It’s almost as if he decided to keep his prose straightforward so that his plotting could become more elaborate.” — Hannah Gersen, ”Collision Courses and Castration Anxiety: Rereading John Irving.”silver divider between paragraphs

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helen in black could be when she is telling student she has to end their affair

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roberta hugging jenny

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garp reading mom’s jenny fields book

silver divider between paragraphs“Jenny had read enough stories to know that hers didn’t sound like the good stories in her memory. She wondered what could be wrong, and she frequently sent Garp on errands to the few bookstores that sold books in English. She wanted to look more closely at how books began; she had quickly produced over three hundred typed pages, yet she felt that her book never really started.” — John Irving, The World According to Garpsilver divider between paragraphsThe World According to Garp (John Irving 1978)

This is the life and times of T. S. Garp, the bastard son of Jenny Fields—a feminist leader ahead of her times. This is the life and death of a famous mother and her almost-famous son; theirs is a world of sexual extremes—even of sexual assassinations. It is a novel rich with “lunacy and sorrow”; yet the dark, violent events of the story do not undermine a comedy both ribald and robust. In more than thirty languages, in more than forty countries—with more than ten million copies in print—this novel provides almost cheerful, even hilarious evidence of its famous last line: “In the world according to Garp, we are all terminal cases.”silver divider between paragraphs

garp in drag at his mom's memorial service. no men allowed.  732x492

garp in drag at his mom’s memorial service. no men allowed.

silver divider between paragraphs“A few windows are open, a few refrigerators are humming. There is the faint, trapped warble from some televisions tuned in to The Late Show, and the blue-gray glow from the picture tubes throbs from a few of the houses. To Garp this glow looks like cancer, insidious and numbing, putting his world to sleep. Maybe television causes cancer, Garp thinks; but his real irritation is a writer’s irritation: he knows that wherever the TV glows, there sits someone who isn’t reading.” — John Irving, The World According to Garpsilver divider between paragraphs
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garp with roberta at jenny’s memorial

silver divider between paragraphs“Imagining something better than remembering something.” — John Irving, The World According to Garp

“He wrote once that a novel was ‘only a place for storage – of all the meaningful things that a novelist isn’t able to use in his life.’” — John Irving, The World According to Garpsilver divider between paragraphs

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garp in bed depressed


silver divider between paragraphsJohn Irving talks sex, social misfits, and writing

Why do you keep returning to the politics of sexual identity in your work?

When I finished “The World According to Garp” in 1978, I was naïve enough to think that I will never write about this subject again; that our intolerance of our own sexual differences will surely go away, and that Garp will be seen someday as a relic of the post-sexual-liberation days, when men and women still literally were killing one another. In that book, a man is killed by a woman who hates men. His mother is murdered by a man who hates women. It’s a kind of dual sexual-assassination story, a cynical way of saying: well you think there was a sexual revolution, how come men and women hate each other?

But there isn’t anything that extreme in your latest novel.

True, but it’s still the same damn subject. It’s still about our obstinate intolerance to sexual differences. It explores our lingering suspicion, distrust, dislike, and non-acceptance of our sexual identities.silver divider between paragraphsJOHN IRVING’S novel, “In One Person”, is narrated by Billy Abbot, a bisexual author, who recalls coming of age in a small New England town in the 1950s. As a thoughtful, tormented teenager, Billy takes a fancy to various people, such as his stepfather, his friend’s mother, the captain of the school wrestling team, and the local librarian, Miss Frost (who reveals to Billy an important secret about her own identity). The mood of the latter half of the book darkens when Billy moves to New York in the 1980s and witnesses the tragic fallout of the AIDS epidemic.

Mr Irving published his debut novel “Setting Free the Bears” in 1968. But it was “The World According to Garp”, his fourth book, which made him an internationally renowned bestselling author. Four of his books have been adapted for the screen, including “The Cider House Rules”, for which Mr Irving won an Academy Award for the adapted screenplay in 2000silver divider between paragraphsIn a conversation with The Economist, Mr Irving talks about discovering his own sexual identity as a teenager, how Ronald Reagan ignored the AIDS epidemic, and why he always champions the outsider in his novels.

What interested you in giving a voice to a bisexual male in this novel?

I think there is often a “what if” proposition that gets me thinking about all my novels. I find my way into a lot of characters by thinking ‘what would that be like?’ The character of the sexual misfit—someone out of step with what society’s expectations of sexual relationships are—is very familiar to me.

Did you ever think you might be bisexual?

Growing up in the ’50s and ’60s, I spent more time imagining sex than actually having it. There was a period in that time where I was frightened of half of my sexual fantasises. I was attracted to my friend’s mothers, and I did have an occasional crush on a boy in the wrestling team. [But] I liked girls in my life, and it proceeded in a normal, unchallenged course.

Why do you keep returning to the politics of sexual identity in your work?

When I finished “The World According to Garp” in 1978, I was naïve enough to think that I will never write about this subject again; that our intolerance of our own sexual differences will surely go away, and that Garp will be seen someday as a relic of the post-sexual-liberation days, when men and women still literally were killing one another. In that book, a man is killed by a woman who hates men. His mother is murdered by a man who hates women. It’s a kind of dual sexual-assassination story, a cynical way of saying: well you think there was a sexual revolution, how come men and women hate each other?

But there isn’t anything that extreme in your latest novel.

True, but it’s still the same damn subject. It’s still about our obstinate intolerance to sexual differences. It explores our lingering suspicion, distrust, dislike, and non-acceptance of our sexual identities.

Do you represent outsiders and social misfits because mainstream culture fails to? Or do they simply have more nuances as characters?

Both. It’s not very interesting to establish sympathy for people who on the surface are instantly sympathetic. I guess I’m always attracted to people who, if their lives were headlines in a newspaper, you might not be very sympathetic about them.

Did having an absent father growing up help you to fictionalise him in your novels?

That’s a great way to put it. I use to tease my mother when I decided that I wanted to be a writer, and say: well if you don’t tell me things about who my dad was, I’m going to just make things up. I wouldn’t say this made me a writer. But it was constructive as a teenager to be left to my imagination about who this guy was.

What influence did Dickens have on you?

“Great Expectations” was an important novel in my adolescence. It was very much one of those emblematic novels that made me wish I could write like that. It helped that my models as a writer were dead over a hundred years before I began to write. They were safe people to imitate. There was no way I could sound like Dickens or Hardy if I tried.

What writers from New England influenced your work?

Melville made a huge impact on me. Reading him encouraged me to write about what I most feared, or what I hope never happens to me or anyone I love. I think in every novel of mine there is cloud which you, the reader, knows is coming. Well that comes from Melville.

“In One Person” describes the AIDS epidemic in the 1980s. What’s your opinion of how the Reagan administration responded to the crises?

For seven out of eight years of his presidency, Regan did not utter the name of the disease. What is even more incriminating is that it’s hard to imagine that we ever had a president—or will ever have again—who personally knew as many gay guys as he did. He was in the movie business for Christ’s sake. The attitude was: it’s only drug addicts and gay guys who are getting this disease. That wasn’t just said among heartless homophobes, it was actually said by people who were in Reagan’s administration, while Reagan maintained a silence.

Did you have many friends who died of AIDS?

Yes. I was living in New York in the 80s, and as a straight guy I had many gay friends, but I also had friends that I subsequently found out were gay, because they were dying. Similarly, parents found out about their children being gay, because they were dying from AIDS.

When you finished writing “The Cider House Rules” in 1985, were you hopeful that attitudes to abortion rights in the United States would change?

No. I thought this is going to get worse. That minority of people who hate abortion rights, they will always hate it. It’s no surprise that most people in the United States who oppose abortion rights also oppose gay rights too. It’s coming from an element of sexual disapproval. Their attitude is, I don’t like this, therefore it shouldn’t be allowed. It’s what I call in America, the old prohibition instinct: you don’t like drinking, nobody should do it, you don’t like abortion, no one should have one.

What do you rate as the most technically important aspect to your novels?

I think my approach with writing toward a pre-existing ending, knowing what a story is before I begin the first chapter.

Are you referring to your method of writing the last line of the novel first?

Sometimes it can be the last line, maybe the last few paragraphs, or even the last couple of pages. I write the last line, and then I write the line before that. I find myself writing backwards for a while, until I have a solid sense of how that ending sounds and feels. You have to know what your voice sounds like at the end of the story, because it tells you how to sound when you begin.

This is the life and times of T. S. Garp, the bastard son of Jenny Fields, a feminist leader ahead of her time. This is the life and death of a famous mother and her almost-famous son; theirs is a world of sexual extremes, even of sexual assassinations. It is a novel rich with lunacy and sorrow, yet the dark, violent events of the story do not undermine a comedy both ribald and robust. In more than thirty languages, in more than forty countries–with more than ten million copies in print–this novel provides almost cheerful, even hilarious evidence of its famous last line: “In the world according to Garp, we are all terminal cases.”silver divider between paragraphs

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garp quote: “we are all terminal cases” over jenny fields nurse’s uniform

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How I’d sell The World According to Garp in a few sentences

It is a gripping book that connects you to every character in the story. In the end, it manages to encompass and successfully interweave themes that are central to the politics and societal issues of both the old and modern worlds and it explores paradigms of feminism and sexual roles in a concentrated manner.

Read it.

Be advised, though. This book is not for those who are prone to lightheartedness at the mention of bodily limbs gone awry/gone, period.

For those of you who would rather watch a story play out on the big screen, there’s a 1982 film based off the book starring Robin Williams as T.S. Garp, the namesake of the novel, and Glenn Close as his mother, Jenny Fields.

“They were involved in that awkward procedure of getting to unknow each other.” — John Irving

“Life is an X-rated soap opera.” — John Irving, The World According to Garp
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QUOTATIONS by JOHN IRVING:

“…but writers, Garp knew, were just observers – good and ruthless imitators of human behavior” — John Irving from The World According to Garp. (I can’t stress how important this quotation is to me. J.I.)

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garp says: i’ll stay up and think weird thoughts for awhile

“Not only were certain types of arrogance tolerated by the society of the Steering School, certain kinds were encouraged; but acceptable arrogance was a matter of taste and style. What you were arrogant about had to appear worthy- of higher purpose- and the manner in which you were arrogant was supposed to be charming.” — John Irving, The World According To Garp u

“Crazy people made him crazy. It was as if he personally resented them giving into madness – in part, because he so frequently labored to behave sanely. When some people gave up the labor of sanity, or failed at it, Garp suspected them of not trying hard enough. ” — John Irving

“I feel like Irving has a sense of reality that is so spot on, despite the fact that his subject matter feels almost fantastical. How he manages to meld these opposing qualities in such an imaginative way is just beyond my understanding, but man does it make for good reading.”– Unknown

“She felt if she ever had children she would love them no less when they were twenty than when they were two; they might need you more at twenty, she thought. What do you really need when you’re two? In the hospital, the babies were the easiest patients. The older they got, the more they needed; and the less anyone wanted or loved them.” — John Irving (The World According to Garp)

“If you don’t feel that you are possibly on the edge of humiliating yourself, of losing control of the whole thing, then probably what you are doing isn’t very vital” -John Irving

“In this dirty minded world you are either somebody’s wife or somebody’s whore—or fast on your way to becoming one or the other. I wanted a job and I wanted to live alone. That made me a sexual suspect. Then I wanted a baby, but I didn’t want to have to share my body or my life to have one. That made me a sexual suspect too.” — John Irving, The World According to Garp

“There are always suicides among people who are unable to say what they mean.” — John Irving

“As for Jenny, she felt that women—just like men—should at least be able to make conscious decisions about the course of their lives; if that made her a feminist, she said, then she guessed she was one.” — Jenny Fields (The World According To Garp)

“Garp has to die; it’s what the book is about, a double assassination of a mother and her son. More to the point: a woman who is killed by a woman-hating man and a man who is killed by a woman who hates men.” — John Irving, on the end of The World According to Garp.

“It is only the vividness of memory that keeps the dead alive forever; a writer’s job is to imagine everything so personally that the fiction is as vivid as our personal memories.” — John Irving (The World According to Garp)

“I may have written this novel twenty years ago, but I go back there almost every day—back to those fears. Even the smallest detail of The World According to Garp is an expression of fear; even the curious pockmark on the face of the Viennese prostitute—it is also an expression of that most terrible fear. “The silvery gouge on her forehead was nearly as big as her mouth; her pockmark looked to Garp like a small, open grave.” A child’s grave …

When Garp was published, people who’d lost children wrote to me. “I lost one, too,” they told me. I confessed to them that I hadn’t lost any children. I’m just a father with a good imagination. In my imagination, I lose my children every day. — John Irving

“Garp would say that the autobiographical basis – if there even was one – was the least interesting level on which to read a novel. He would always say that the art of fiction was the act of imagining truly – was, like any art, a process of selection.”– Unknown

“He wrote Helen that a young writer needs desperately to live with someone and he had decided that he wanted to live with her; even marry her, he offered, because sex was simply necessary but it took too much of one’s time if one had to be constantly planning how one was going to get it. Therefore, Garp reasoned, it is better to live with it!
Helen revised several letters before she finally sent him one that said that he could, so to speak, go stick it in his ear. Did he think she was going through college so rigorously so that she could provide him with sex that was not even necessary to plan?” — from Garp — John Irving

“Don’t you want to know how I die?” Garp asked them.
They didn’t say anything.
“I kill myself,” Garp said, pleasantly. “In order to become fully established that seems almost necessary. I mean it, really,” Garp said. “In the present fashion, you’ll agree this is one way of recognizing a writer’s seriousness? Since the art of the writing doesn’t always make the writer’s seriousness apparent, it’s something necessary to reveal the depth of one’s personal anguish by other means. Killing yourself seems to mean that you were serious after all. It’s true,” Garp said, but his sarcasm was unpleasant and Helen sighed; John Wolf stretched again. “And thereafter,” Garp said, “much seriousness is suddenly revealed in the work—where it had escaped notice before.” — From “The World According to Garp,” by John Irving

‎”Your memory is a monster; you forget – it doesn’t. It simply files things away. It keeps things for you, or hides things from you – and summons them to your recall with will of its own. You think you have a memory; but it has you!” — John Irving – The World According To Garp

“Human sexuality makes farcical our most serious intentions.” — Garp in The World According to Garp by John Irving

“It is an important distinction to note that she looked not only as if she had taken good care of herself, but that she had good reason to have done so … She looked to be in such total possession of her life that only the most confident men could continue to look at her if she looked back at them. Even in bus stations, she was a woman who was stared at only until she looked back.” — The World According To Garp

“a manner betraying both carelessness and intense perfection” — Unknown