“The Known and the Unknown” – #2

a writer's word polished or rawThe Known and the Unknown – #2
Excerpts from the Essay “Fail Safe”
Written by Debbie Millman
Post by Jennifer Kiley
Post Sunday 27th July 2014
The Essay titled “Fail Safe”
Taken From Anthology
Look Both Ways: Illustrated Essays
on the Intersection of Life and Design

Debbie Millman is an Artist
Strategist & Interviewer

“Fail Safe” The Essay-Explores Existential Skills-Living With Uncertainty-Embracing The Unfamiliar-Allowing For Not Knowing-Cultivating What John Keats Famously Termed “Negative Capability”

psychedelic cat

The Known and the Unknown – #2

I dreamed of being
an artist and a writer,
but inasmuch as I knew
what I wanted,
I felt compelled
to consider what
was “reasonable”
in order
to safeguard
my economic future.

Even though
I wanted
what my best friend
once referred to as
“the whole wide world,”

I thought
it was prudent
to compromise.

I told myself
it was more
sensible to aspire
for success

that was
realistically
feasible

perhaps
even
failure-proof

It never
once occurred
to me
that I could
have it all.

All

ALL

blk & wht fluid abstract painting

“The Known and the Unknown” Part 2 - Jennifer Kiley

Remember

“Do What You LOVE

A Writer’s Diary: Virginia Woolf —Part #15

a writer's diary
Virginia Woolf – Part #15
Excerpts from Virginia Woolf
Created by Jennifer Kiley
Created 24th March 2014
Posted Sunday 8th June 2014
A WRITER’S DIARY

Virginia Woolf 1

Virginia Woolf

A Writer’s Diary
Virginia Woolf – Part #15

December 29th, 1940
Virginia Woolf at 58 yrs.

There are
moments
when
the sail
flaps.

Then,
being
a great
amateur
of the art
of life,

determined
to suck
my orange,
off,
like a wasp
if the blossom
I’m on
fades,
as it did
yesterday

I ride
across
the downs
to the cliffs.

A roll
of barbed
wire
is hooped
on the edge.

I rubbed
my mind
brisk
along
the
Newhaven
road.

Shabby
old maids
buying
groceries,

in that
desert road
with
the villas;
in the wet.

And
Newhaven
gashed.

But tire
the body
and
the mind
sleeps.

All desire
to write
diary
here
has
flagged.

What is
the right
antidote?

I must
sniff round.
I think
Mme.
de Sevigne.

Writing
to be
a daily
pleasure.

I detest
the hardness
of old age

I feel it.

I rasp.

I’m tart.

*       *       *       *       *       *       *

3 Months later on 28th March 1941 Virginia Woolf filled her coat pockets with
Stones, walked into the River Ouse near her home in Sussex and drowned herself.
Headlines stated she had disappeared but it was suspected she was dead. Three
weeks after she committed suicide by drowning, she was found. Leonard Woolf
had her cremated. Virginia Woolf’s ashes were buried under the intertwined Elm
Trees, nicknamed “Virginia and Leonard” by them, at Monk’s House, their Summer
Home. Both their homes in London had been destroyed by bombs during World
War II.  Leonard Woolf, Virginia’s husband, was devastated. She left a note for
him and one for her sister Vanessa Bell. There was a huge outpouring from
friends, family, acquaintances, strangers, fans and admirers who were send-
ing their condolences. It was a shock to all, the loss of Virginia Woolf.

At the bottom of post I will leave a copy of the suicide note
Virginia Woolf wrote for her husband Leonard Woolf.

These are the last passages from Virginia Woolf’s A Writer’s Diary, BUT ONLY TEMPORARILY.

I will be presenting further excerpts
from Virginia Woolf’s A Writer’s Diary in the near future.

Thank You For Following Her Brilliant Words as her Gift to All of Us.

THANK YOU VIRGINIA WOOLF FOR BEING SO GENEROUS.
WE HAVE YOUR GIFTS TO LEARN FROM & WE ARE ABLE
TO ABSORB FROM THE DEPTH OF YOUR KNOWLEDGE, YOUR
BRILLIANCE & YOUR SENSITIVITY. I KNOW I AM GRATEFUL
TO HAVE FOUND YOU. YOU ARE IMPORTANT TO ME. I FEEL
THE PAIN YOU SUFFERED & HOPE YOU HAVE FOUND PEACE.

Virginia Woolf's Monk's House Garden

Virginia Woolf’s Monk’s House Garden

virginia woolf 3

Virginia Woolf

Erik Satie: Gnossienne No. 1, 2, 3

 *       *       *       *       *       *       *

Virginia Woolf’s Handwritten Suicide Note to Her Husband Leonard
A Painful & Poignant Farewell [28th March 1941]

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

*       *       *       *       *       *       *

A Writer’s Diary: Virginia Woolf —Part #13

a writer's diary
Virginia Woolf – Part #13
Excerpts from Virginia Woolf

Created by Jennifer Kiley

Post Sunday 25th May 2014

Virginia Woolf 1

Virginia Woolf

A Writer’s Diary
Virginia Woolf – Part #13

June 14th, 1925
Woolf at 43 yrs.

A disgraceful
Confession —

this is
Sunday
morning

and
just
after ten,

and
here I am
sitting down
to write diary

and
not fiction
or reviews,

without
any excuse,
except
the state
of my mind.

After
finishing those
two books,
though,

one can’t
concentrate
directly
on a
new one;

and

then
the letters,

the talk,

the reviews,

all serve
to enlarge
the pupil
of my mind
more
and
more.

I’ve written
6 little stories,

scrambled
them down
untidily

and
have
thought out,

perhaps
too clearly,

To the Lighthouse.

June 27th 1925
Woolf at 43 yrs.

…But while
I try
to write,

I am
making up
To the Lighthouse

the sea
is to be
heard
all through
it.

I have
an idea
that I will
invent a new
name
for my
books

to supplant
“novel.”

A new ___
by
Virginia
Woolf.

But what?

Elegy?

Virginia Woolf's Monk's House Garden

Virginia Woolf’s Monk’s House Garden

 

virginia woolf 3

Virginia Woolf

Erik Satie: Gnossienne No. 1, 2, 3

A Writer’s Diary: Virginia Woolf —Part #12

a writer's diary
Virginia Woolf – Part #12
Excerpts from Virginia Woolf
Created by Jennifer Kiley
Created 24th March 2014
Posted Sunday 18th May 2014
A WRITER’S DIARY

Virginia Woolf 1

Virginia Woolf

A Writer’s Diary
Virginia Woolf – Part #12

October 25th, 1920
Woolf at 38 yrs.

Why is life
so tragic;

so like
a little strip
of pavement
over
an abyss?

I look down;

I feel giddy;

I wonder how
I am ever
to walk
to the end.

But why
do I feel
this:

Now
that I
say it
I don’t
feel it.

The fire
burns;

we are
going
to hear
the
Beggar’s Opera.

Only it lies
about me;

I can’t keep
my eyes shut.

It’s a feeling
of impotence;

of cutting
no ice.

Here I sit
at Richmond,

and like
a lantern
stood
in the
middle
of a field

my light
goes up
in darkness.

Melancholy
diminishes
as I write.

Why then
don’t
I write it
down oftener?

Well,
one’s
vanity
forbids.

I want
to appear
a success
even
to myself.

Yet
I don’t
get to
the bottom
of it.

 

Virginia Woolf's Monk's House Garden

Virginia Woolf’s Monk’s House Garden

virginia woolf 3

Virginia Woolf

Erik Satie: Gnossienne No. 1, 2, 3

A Writer’s Diary: Virginia Woolf —Part #11

a writer's diary
Virginia Woolf – Part #11

Excerpts from Virginia Woolf’s “A Writer’s Diary”

Post Sunday 11th May 2014

 

 

 

Virginia Woolf 1

Virginia Woolf

Virginia Woolf – Part #11
A Writer’s Diary

The main requisite,
I think
on re-reading
my old
volumes,

is not
to play
the part
of censor,

but to write
as the
mood comes

or

of anything
whatever;

since I
was curious
to find how
I went
for things
put in
haphazard,

and found
the significance
to lie
where
I never
saw it
at the
time.

But looseness
quickly becomes
slovenly.

A little effort
is needed
to face
a character
or
an incident
which needs
to be
recorded.

Nor can one
let the pen
write
without
guidance;

for fear
of becoming
slack
and
untidy. . .

Virginia Woolf's Monk's House Garden

Virginia Woolf’s Monk’s House Garden

virginia woolf 3

Virginia Woolf

Erik Satie: Gnossienne No. 1, 2, 3

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

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

Virginia Woolf 1

Virginia Woolf

A Writer’s Diary 
Virginia Woolf – Part #2

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

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

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

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

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

And produce
Spiritually
What an Academy picture
Does materially

Smoothing out
The wrinkles
Warts
Frowns
And asperities.

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

Because

As Virginia Woolf
Herself remarks

Somewhere
In these diaries

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

Irritation
Or misery,
Say

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

The portrait is
Therefore
From the start
Unbalanced

And
If someone
Then deliberately
Removes
Another characteristic

It may well
Become
A mere
Caricature.

— Leonard Woolf
[Virginia's Husband]

Virginia Woolf's Monk's House Garden

Virginia Woolf’s Monk’s House Garden

virginia woolf 3

Virginia Woolf

Erik Satie: Gnossienne No. 1, 2, 3

Private Writings: Chapter #28 — Death on the Veranda

private writings to a psychoanalyst (c) Jk 2013

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

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

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

Crypticistic Synopsis:

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

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

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

Tuesday 1st April 2008

Dear Annie,

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Fondly,

Madison

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

Dr. Annie Haskell’s Office as a Psychoanalyst

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

calla_lily_bunch

Calla Lily Bunch

rain in garden gif

Screaming Death
Written by Madison Taylor
1st April 2008

Screaming death
Life ending
Beginning
Dying

Living has too many endings
Once there
Disappearing
Into invisible air

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

Blood spurting
From dying flesh
Taken out
By the enemy

All is stolen
Dreams
Memories
Not yet lived

Just gone
All is gone
Ripped apart
Stolen away from love

© madison taylor 2008

Reflecting Abstract Artist --- Jaison Cianelli

Reflecting — Abstract Art — Artist — Jaison Cianelli

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

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

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

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

English Country Gardens Chateau de Rocher framed

English Country Gardens Chateau de Rocher

play is not just play meryl streep