Thoughts On Writing – Susan Sontag [Series Pt 1]

a writer's word new 14th june 2014Thoughts on Writing

A Multiple Part Series – Part # 1

“Think With Words—Not Ideas”

by Susan Sontag

Post by Jennifer Kiley

Post Sunday 26th October 2014

susan sontag photo for series

I have a wider range as a human being than as a writer. (With some writers, it’s the opposite.) Only a fraction of me is available to be turned into art.
(8/8/64)

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Words have their own firmness. The word on the page may not reveal (may conceal) the flabbiness of the mind that conceived it. All thoughts are upgrades — get more clarity, definition, authority, by being in print — that is, detached from the person who thinks them.
A potential fraud — at least potential — in all writing.
(8/20/64)

*       *       *

Writing is a little door. Some fantasies, like big pieces of furniture, won’t come through.
(8/30/64)

*       *       *

If only I could feel about sex as I do about writing! That I’m the vehicle, the medium, the instrument of some force beyond myself.
(11/1/64)

*        *       *

Science fiction —
Popular mythology for contemporary negative imagination about the impersonal
(11/1/64)

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A Short Note for the end of each part of this 8 part series.

Susan Sontag [January 16, 1933 – December 28, 2004] was an American writer and filmmaker, professor, literary icon, and political activist. Beginning with the publication of her 1964 essay “Notes on ‘Camp’”

gold fountain pen for sontag series

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Your Elusive Creative Genius

tell me a story
Your Elusive Creative Genius

TED Talk: Elizabeth Gilbert

Post Created by Jennifer Kiley

Reposted from July 2013 

RePost Thursday 9th October 2014
 

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

Elizabeth Gilbert: Your elusive creative genius

“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.

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Private Moments #67 – “Screaming Out What’s Real”

private moments in paintings & poetryPrivate 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 suess by jkmccormack (c) jkm 2013

On Seuss by jkmccormack (c) jkm 2008

hands reaching out into rain

“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

Endings into Beginnings
Endlessly…infinity symbol small

© madison taylor 2008

candle flame flickering gif

Ilse de Lange - I Still Cry

question everything gif lightning gif julie-andrew AofM emily laughing on grow rolling meditating on rock overlooking flowing river gif feet walking through moving waves gifa story is told through motion in reality <3 jkm

garden waterfall private gazebo overgrown 4pmip&p

“Doorway to a Place of Enchantment”

“Creating is having the courage
to allow the seer into the private
moments of our imaginative lives.”

— Jkm the secret keeper
aka Jennifer Kiley McCormack

red heart outline with pale blue bg

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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

Poetry Out Loud: Change

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

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

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

Change
Written by Jennifer Kiley
Thursday 12th September 2013

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

Expectations gone
Stretch universe past limits
Liberation wide open

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

© jennifer kiley 2013

flowing time by yaroslava

Flowing Time by Yaroslava

Cant U Feel the Change — David Guetta

Flowers Song and Poetry

Flowers Song and a Poem
Post Created by Jennifer Kiley
Poem Written by Henry David Thoreau
Created Thursday 29th August 2013
Posted Saturday 31th August 2013
Poetry Out Loud

Dedicated to a Special Friend Who Has Met the Trials of Life Head On

flowers yellow white pinkish with green background of leaves for niamh

Friendship

I think awhile of Love, and while I think,
Love is to me a world,
Sole meat and sweetest drink,
And close connecting link
Tween heaven and earth.

I only know it is, not how or why,
My greatest happiness;
However hard I try,
Not if I were to die,
Can I explain.

I fain would ask my friend how it can be,
But when the time arrives,
Then Love is more lovely
Than anything to me,
And so I’m dumb.

For if the truth were known, Love cannot speak,
But only thinks and does;
Though surely out ’twill leak
Without the help of Greek,
Or any tongue.

A man may love the truth and practise it,
Beauty he may admire,
And goodness not omit,
As much as may befit
To reverence.

But only when these three together meet,
As they always incline,
And make one soul the seat,
And favorite retreat,
Of loveliness;

When under kindred shape, like loves and hates
And a kindred nature,
Proclaim us to be mates,
Exposed to equal fates
Eternally;

And each may other help, and service do,
Drawing Love’s bands more tight,
Service he ne’er shall rue
While one and one make two,
And two are one;

In such case only doth man fully prove
Fully as man can do,
What power there is in Love
His inmost soul to move
Resistlessly.

______

Two sturdy oaks I mean, which side by side,
Withstand the winter’s storm,
And spite of wind and tide,
Grow up the meadow’s pride,
For both are strong

Above they barely touch, but undermined
Down to their deepest source,
Admiring you shall find
Their roots are intertwined
Insep’rably.

Henry David Thoreau

lady butterfly painted green back ground

Easy To Be — Prospecta featuring Lila Goldie

http://russelrayphotos2.com/2013/08/30/top-10-reasons-for-adopting-a-dog-from-second-chance-dog-rescue/ If you want to rescue a dog check this site out.

Tales of Mystery and Imagination

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  792x895

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.

A Flutist Call To Dream --- Artist Josephine Wall   772x582

A Flutist Call To Dreamer — Artist Josephine Wall

A Dream Within A Dream — Alan Parsons Project
Tales of Mystery and Imagination — Recitation by Orson Welles