PURE CREATIVE GENIUS IN ELIZABETH GILBERT’S TALK. IT’S FUNNY. AMUSING. INFORMATIVE. INSPIRATIONAL. EAT PRAY LOVE. SET A SPELL & BE PREPARED TO LAUGH. MS. GILBERT SPEAKS QUITE WELL FOR HERSELF. ENJOY!!! ♥jkm
“Eat, Pray, Love” Author Elizabeth Gilbert muses on the impossible things we expect from artists and geniuses — and shares the radical idea that, instead of the rare person “being” a genius, all of us “have” a genius. It’s a funny, personal and surprisingly moving talk.
Private Moments #67 Poem“Screaming Out What’s Real” by Jennifer Kiley Poem for Private Writings: Chapter #67 “Twisting Inside Shouting Out Loud” Painting“On Seuss” by Jk McCormack Post Monday 23rd June 2014
“For that fine madness still he did retain, Which rightly should possess a poet’s brain.” ~Michael Drayton~ (1563-1631)
On Seussby jkmccormack (c) jkm 2008
“Screaming Out What’s Real” By Madison Taylor 16th December 2008
Screaming Releasing the danger Of the Real Out Loud Everyone will listen It all is quite distracting But they will not hear What is meant by Real
No one knows what is Real It isn’t what we Feel That makes a “Thing” Real It isn’t what we See That’s going to set us Free
We are owned By the World In which we live in Eyes watching every move Following our dreams We willingly send them Out into cyberspace Without regret
After all What possibly can happen If “They” know What “They” think “They” know None of it is Real It’s a metamorphosis of Time Playing It’s game of Illusions
We are Chess Pieces Closing in on Check Mate When the Game is Over It ALL Starts Again
What Is Your Next Move? If You Would Like To Begin Again
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.
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
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.
Dr. Annie Haskell’s Office as a Psychoanalyst
<em>Somewhere In Time – John Barry</em>
Calla Lily Bunch
Written by Madison Taylor
1st April 2008
Living has too many endings
Into invisible air
Pain fills the heart
Exploding like fireworks
Covering the sky
From dying flesh
By the enemy
All is stolen
Not yet lived
All is gone
Stolen away from love
Tales of Mystery and Imagination Written by Edgar Allan Poe
Post Created by Jk the secret keeper
Illustrated by j. kiley
Post Created Friday 16th August 2013
Posted On Saturday 17th August 2013 POETRY OUT LOUD
FluidPainting65 — Artist Mark Chadwick
“Dreams are reality at its most profound.”
— Eugene Ionesco
Tales of Mystery and Imagination by Edgar Allan Poe
For my own part, I have never had a thought
Which I could not set down in words
With even more distinctness that which I conceived it.
There is however a class of fancies of exquisite delicacy
Which are not thoughts and to which as yet
I have found it absolutely impossible to adapt to language.
These fancies arise in the soul,
Alas how rarely, only at epochs
Of most intense tranquility
When the bodily and mental health are in perfection.
And those mere points of time
When the confines of the waking world
Blend with the world of dreams.
And so I captured this fancy
Where all that we see or seem
Is but a dream within a dream.
Motion Set At Confusion
Written By Jennifer Kiley
Written On 9th August 2013
Post Created by Jk the secret keeper
Illustrated by j. kiley
Post Created Friday 9th August 2013
Posted on Saturday 10th August POETRY OUT LOUD
Abstract Fluid Acrylic Art by Mark Chadwick
Motion Set At Confusion
By Jennifer Kiley
9th August 2013
Motion set at confusion Blurring the thinker With muddled perceptions Visions not thought Before clouding The mind with fog Opening doors With no key holes Entering rooms Hiding memories
In stubbornness to be right Distortions are recalled Jumbled up feelings Planting false senses No attachments involved Realities not real Start stalking the truth Hunting down lies Destruction invented in minds
Vacate my head Decease planting false visions Leave reality alone It belongs only to one Desist in tampering Playing psychic doctor Credentials exceed limits In this territory
Strength must be found Undoing the damage caused Tampering with beliefs Complicate insecurities With lies to protect lies Begin the game of sacrifice Trampling a person’s sanity Darkness is blind evil Match up exceeds power Challenge has been accepted Lost by resignation
Finally know identity Words never can touch one Whose strength exceeds any power of influence Traps were set and sprung Tested theories so weak Allowed to enter the psyche Chancing potential damage Rescued before lies were set in stone Fooling is not within power Don’t see identity Beyond authority Power’s expanse Its scope reaches farther limits Will never touch with weakness
Power has been rejuvenated After experiment failed to take hold Bait was wasted Practice on the weak Shame on demonic demonstrations The craven need for power For total control Letting go of the need to hold tight Freedom is so much more enticing and inviting The soul when free gives more to the dreamer Without dreams are the broken ones Healing and will continue to grow and heal A continuous process learned through accepting The serendipity of life and releasing the stronghold of death
When death comes will float into the ether Until then will freely live life Accept identity All of one Share with those love and trust Love that grows within That surrounds with sweetness And renewal Animals are the renewal of all things The universe is a playground Being alive Accepting imperfections Stop trying to steal identity No longer welcome In this world It is over Go away Join the harmful ones Trying to steal the innocent in all of us You are a member of that gang now Going to leave on life’s journey You are not invited
“The things other people have put into my head, at any rate, do not fit together nicely, are often useless and ugly, are out of proportion with one another, are out of proportion with life as it really is outside my head.” ― Kurt Vonnegut,Breakfast of Champions