Virgin territory. Never touched by humans.Pristine.Clarity.Movement of colors spectacular. The Celestial Heavens.The Awesomeness of the Firmament.Breathtaking.Remember to Inhale.Who smokes that which gives one sight & doesn’t Inhale. That’s Sheer Waste.Martin Heck has the most Amazing Ability to capture magnificent images with Timelapse.He folds all togetherwhat has magically been collectedto create a continuous Pure Visual Ecstasyfor Sights Awakening Experienceof Exalting Awesomeness.
“Awakening”| New Zealand – By Martin Heck – TIMESTORM FILMS
MARTIN HECK | TIMESTORM FILMS – EMOTIMO – DYNAMIC PERCEPTION
Part I/IV of a timelapse series through the always changing landscapes of New Zealand. Shot over 4 month, traveling through amazing landscapes, sleeping under the stars, hiking on mountains and exploring remote roads. Locations in this video where at Fjordland NP, Mount Cook NP and Arthurs Pass NP, Mavora Lakes and Lake Ohau. Follow me on Twitter: twitter.com/martinheck and Facebook: facebook.com/TimestormFilms Official Website: timestormfilms.com
Sometimes You Just Feel Invisible
Written by Jennifer Kiley
Illustrations of Family Companion Animals
Photographs by Shawn MacKenzie
Post Created Wednesday 17th July 2013
Posted On Saturday 20th July 2013 X-Treme Haiku Saturday
Schroeder-the Jekyll & Hyde of Cats-kisses & snuggles switching instantaneously to bites & growls. And then there’s Saki-our Amazon Parrot-my protector-she bites me when she thinks I am in danger. OUCH!!! One of her satisfactions is when she imitates Snoopy on his Sopwith Camel dive-bombing The Red Baron-in this instance replace TRB with Shawn-cannot get near me when Saki is sitting on my shoulder or near me in anyway. A true love/hate relationship with Shawn-who gives her peanut treats whenever Saki asks. Now look at the love between S & S. It is a labour of love. In this photograph-Saki has only just started to fly over to us. Her life before us was trauma filled & neglect. Loved Shawn first but switched over to me. Now we are symbiotic & copacetic. We share everything-Food-Love & Snuggles. I get an Heroic Protector who sleeps/eats/sits/snuggles/dances on me when I write or do anything. A Love Note for My Two Favorite Cuddlers. Kisses-Jk [One of Their Two Mums] ps. I am not Invisible to them. They need me as I need them & want me in their lives.
Sometimes You Just Feel Invisible
By Jennifer Kiley
17th July 2013
Sometimes you just feel
Invisible no sight no
Depth of shape no dimensions
Vision forward moves
Past forgotten locked in lost
Memories committed done
Frozen locked in time
Tripping tricking psyche deep
Confusion delusions thoughts
Noble In Reason
Post Created by Jk the secret keeper
Collage by j. kiley
Post Created 2nd Tuesday July 2013
Posted 3rd Wednesday July 2013
Aria from Diva – Wilhelmenia Wiggins Fernandez
Fernandez sings the aria “Ebben? Ne andrò lontana“, from Act I of Catalani’s opera “La Wally.” Catalani died at 39. The piece is a haunting reverie on the theme of traveling alone and far from home.
This performance plays a prominent role in the 1981 French romantic thriller, “Diva” – and is an excerpt from the DVD. Roger Ebert, film critic for the Chicago Sun Times, rates the movie 5 stars out of 5.
The opera, based on a German novel, tells of a wild, headstrong Swiss mountain girl who loves one local huntsman and is loved by another. Eventually she wins her true love, the pair embraces high in the Alps, an avalanche entombs the hero and she leaps after him to her snowy death.
QUOTATIONS on REASON:
“Before you, Bella, my life was like a moonless night. Very dark, but there were stars, points of light and reason. …And then you shot across my sky like a meteor. Suddenly everything was on fire; there was brilliancy, there was beauty. When you were gone, when the meteor had fallen over the horizon, everything went black. Nothing had changed, but my eyes were blinded by the light. I couldn’t see the stars anymore. And there was no more reason, for anything.” ― Stephenie Meyer, New Moon
“Your reason and your passion are the rudder and the sails of your seafaring soul.
For reason, ruling alone, is a force confining; and passion, unattended, is a flame that burns to its own destruction.
Therefore let your soul exalt your reason to the height of passion, that it may sing;
And let it direct your passion with reason, that your passion may live through its own
daily resurrection, and like the phoenix rise above its own ashes.
And since you are a breath in God’s sphere, and a leaf in God’s forest, you too should rest in reason and move in passion.” ― Khalil Gibran, The Prophet
Private Writings: Chapter #16 — Aggravating Behavior
Written by Jennifer Kiley
Illustrated by j. kiley
First Published March 19th 2013
Published Early Tuesday AM
Posted 2nd July 2013
WARNING: ADULT LANGUAGE AND CONTENT.
NOT SUITABLE FOR CHILDREN.
ALL CHARACTERS ARE FICTITIOUS.
ANYONE RESEMBLING ANYONE LIVING OR DEAD
IS PURELY COINCIDENTAL.
I think Annie, I know why I wrote such an emotionally intense letter last week. It is Amelie. Her joining the therapy group last week really disarmed me. There was no notice or warning of a new member starting the first of the year. Our glorious leader, Dr. George, yes, I am using his given name, fuck Mr. Xxx, he deserves to be identified. He failed to ask whether we wanted someone new.
Seems the Doctor wants full control or he would have mentioned her and not made the decision on his own. This group has full rights to decide if someone joins at any time. Writing this is not to complain about Amelie. She mesmerizes me. It is Dr. George’s lack of inquiry with us. To late, it’s done. Not appropriately, but déjà fait. He bloody displeases me, not Alison.
Amelie triggers memories of Tosh. Their resemblance is beyond uncanny. And her boldness is refreshing. No hesitation to proclaim herself a lesbian. But I saw her depth of attraction and knew. Sensed it in her gaze when her eyes caught mine, in a timeless moment. Her eyes were steady. All I knew was the feeling from Amelie felt as though Tosh’s eyes were loving me. The time portal opened to the past.
Who is Amelie? Where did she come from? And why now? The pressure is building up inside of me. Not sure I’m handling it well. I feel like my world is about to explode. Flashing on Tosh’s murder. Getting attached to you. Not knowing if I will lose you if this all crash and burns. Now Amelie, a ghost, a practical joke, Dr. George, the bastard, is fucking with me. He knows what Tosh looks like, and magically Amelie springs up.
I’m sure you’ve notices the group is in disaster mode. Dying and almost dead as Jacob Marley’s Ghost. It’s in a retrograde of self-destruction. Hold it together, Annie, please, just long enough, or it will disintegrate by the hand of Machiavelli, himself, Dr. George. Maybe it should self-destruct. Solves one major problem. Poof! Dr. George disappears. So does everyone else in this miserable group. Exceptions are Amelie and Kristina. Soon, I will tell you about Kristina. Right now, I’m just waiting for Mount Vesuvius to erupt. That would be Brad, my totally rad alter. He’s not afraid of anyone. Plus he promised me Dr. George is going down. Soon. The time is near.
He sucks as a analyst. He’s not deserving of the honour of calling him a psychoanalyst or doctor. What a joke. He’s so out of touch, I don’t think he knows he’s treating clients. But, it’s his job to listen. Instead, he monopolizes a session by telling his own stories. It’s negligence and even worse, his stories are sexually perverse, going into detail about gay male sex. Please do not misunderstand, I am not homophobic. That’s not it, it’s that he tells these stories to me, when we are alone. I am a lesbian client, I emphasize, and an abuse survivor . His other clients, some share similar backgrounds. I, certainly, have no desire to hear about balls, or a man’s prick. Who the fuck wants to hear that kind of bull shit.
His sense of protocol is fucking aggravating. It’s inappropriate. Clearly sexual harassment, he thrusts upon female sexual abuse survivors. Having my analyst compound his ignorance with the subject at all is disgusting and depraved. The only appropriate time would be if I were talking about an abuser raping me. Enough with the perverse humour. Dr. George’s list of disgusting behavior grows longer, probably unlike his dick. It’s not my thing. Being raped by pricks do not make lesbians appreciate the existence of dicks, nor do they fantasize hearing about them or seeing them. Does he forget or not understand that element of our experiences?
I just need to end my therapy with him completely. His relationship with me is a travesty. He’s outrageous, obnoxious and destructive in our private sessions. Plainly, he is just a disappointment. He doesn’t even pretend any longer not to support me. He sides with his pets in the group, particularly Angie, who gets on my last nerve. I dread seeing them both. And God forbid I should question her intentions or prejudices or anyone elses.
In a private session, only recently, when I accused Angie, his precious fucking pet snake of being a homophobe and racist, he came down on me, accusing me of being cruel and unfeeling. His evil seethed through his teeth as he tried destroying me with his words. Turning me in on myself, made me out to be the insensitive one. Every fiber and muscle in my body struggled with my mind, trying to walk out in the middle of his vicious outbreak of rage, but instead stillness set in. His verbal abuse caused such extreme fright, I became catatonic.
That was the final time I ever intend to allow him to rape my mind again. Next time, instead of facing me down, he will meet Brad, in his fully engaged rage. Dr. George will finally be laid out. Don’t worry, no one is going to do violence. But I would definitely make a grand exit, quite Gloria Swanson, but with a male flair and the burst of a fiery rage. And it truly would be the last one. You will know it and you will hear it, when it is over.
A word of encouragement from you, Annie, would help push me over that line to find my courage. His condescension in our private sessions should be enough. But I am too insecure to terminate without feeling support to catch me. An abusive relationship has gradually been created with him and I did not stop it when I realized what was happening. I let it take over my world. He makes me feel like the abusers did. I float on the ceiling to escape him and become powerless.
It always bothered me that he reminded me of an abuser. He used transference in place of accepting his role in creating my feelings of insecurity and making me feel I wasn’t seeing what I felt as being accurate. He was being abusive, constantly undermining my sense of identity and confidence. My belief in trusting my own feelings. My writing came to almost a stand still after starting to see him. My soul felt strangled. My muse abandoned me for an indefinite length of time. I fell into the deepest depression. Started having increasingly stronger panic and anxiety attacks and the depression led to feeling suicidal most of the time. How many times I felt so close to the edge, were far too many.
Just the thought that the next day I would have to see him freaked me out. I would start to shake and found it hard to breathe. He would rationalize it by saying I was afraid of therapy and what disturbing memories might come up. Bull shit. He is such a fuck head and liar. He wanted to have power over me. Sound familiar, it is exactly what abusers do to the children they abuse. Win their confidence and then slowly undermine their sense of self as an independent person, until the abuser can do anything they want with their prize possessions. Does he get his kicks having power over his clients, controlling them and how they feel inside. Making them want to kill themselves. Life and death. What an ultimate power trip.
Somehow, Scottie broke through the barrier.It was built up high and strong to protect myself. She fought with me to see reality. That I was having delusional thinking. For years she has driven me insane with her persistent urges to get me to stop seeing him. Deep inside I knew she was trying to protect me, but I was too frightened to walk away. I felt too crazy and feared leaving him would cause me to completely lose my mind. Talk about control or confusion. What was I letting him do to me? What was I doing to myself staying with him? Fear is my only excuse or reason. Terror. I was too terrified to live or to leave. Life was too frightening. I trembled at the thought of being part of the world. Going out. Being around people. Pure panic.
Now I want to make him disappear and group to end. Working with you, Annie, would be a great alternative. There is only one thing that would be fucked up if this all collapsed, which it will. Amelie, if it all ends, she would be gone. How will I be able to get to know her. There has got to be a way to make some kind of personal connection before it happens. Everything will crumble when I confront him. Not sure exactly when and how I’m going to do it. But it will happen and I’ve got to be lethal.
I don’t want Amelie to go away. It may seem odd. I met her last week, I’ve seen her twice. Yet, there is an intense need to know her. Jennie Fields, a character I love from the John Irving book, The World According to Garp, says this two word phrase. It cracks me up. She would look someone straight in the eyes and seriously state, “It’s lust.” As simple as that. “It’s lust.” I am in lust with Amelie. It’s a really strong attraction. Not something I have any way of explaining but say I am attracted to her.
Well, fuck it if I am. Amelie rocks my world at this very moment. Nothing wrong with those feelings. But, seriously, it feels more meaningful than an orgasmic connection. She reminds me of Tosh. I can’t let that go. There is something between us. I’m not letting her walk into my life so fucking briefly and not have a say as she walks back out again.
Don’t you think she’s awesome. She has me awestruck. I am numb in the brain. My feelings are all muttled around her. I can’t think or speak in a complete sentence without tangling up the words. You noticed that, I’m sure. It’s embarrassing, especially in front of that group from the vicious circle.
We need to figure this all out. I need your help, Annie. Please, let me assure you, do not worry about Scottie. She understands my bipolar. I have attractions but I can’t do anything about them. In due time, I will explain what Scottie fully knows about me. I don’t share with many this secret. That’s why Scottie trusts me.
Before I end my letter, I want to remind you of the secret from a few letters ago. Lets end this letter on a mysterious but still high note. It involves Scottie’s new film. Mine, too. Still working on finalizing the title. I don’t know what the problem is with making a decision. I liked my choice but can’t tell you yet. Maybe next time I’ll have a go.
But that’s not what I want to tell you. I, actually, want to tell you a bit more about the film. I’d like to sound it out on you further. See if it sounds like a good script. Would love the feedback. How about if I write a touch about it each week. A sneak preview when I remember. That would benefit me too. I would hear what it is that I have created. Bounce it off of you. Maybe I will feel more confident about my work.
In review, I remember telling you the lead character is a novelist, the character’s name, I will tell in a future letter. She is quite the brilliant writer. What else did I tell you. I lost it. Sorry. That’s all I remember from the other letter. Have a terrible memory, even for what I write.
Well, let me continue. She is a literary novelist, mixed with a touch of the psychological element and a dabble of mystery. Her problem is she can’t find a publisher. Just finds rejection notices in her mailbox but doesn’t give up. She keeps sending out her novels. She’s accumulated several manuscripts already. If it weren’t for the Estate her Grandmother left her after she died, our author wouldn’t be able to afford the luxury of being a full time writer. The wonderful home she lives in, with her three babies, was her grandmother’s home. You’ll meet the babies later. She spent many weeks there, every summer, when growing up. It was her favorite place on the planet.
One weekend, she goes to an Estate Sale. While rummaging around, she finds a briefcase. It’s an old leather one with a broken lock, jammed shut, with no way to look inside. She made the decision, it looked mysterious. Her thought was, it would be a great place to store her latest manuscript. She purchased it, not even sure she will ever be able to open it, ever. But she thought, if she was unsuccessful, it would make a great decoration, plus an uncanny inspiration for her writing room. It would add to the old English decor. But, she was certain, being quite a stubborn woman herself, she wouldn’t give up without a real attempt to break it open. It wasn’t her intention to give up trying that easily.
After returning home from a long drive, once in the house, she placed her new find on the dining room table while she went to feed the cats. The three, of them, practically knocked her down, when she came in the front door. Once Jasper, Jax and James were fed, the three young neutered male Savannah cats, spotted like leopards, enormous in size, all settled down in the family room. Snuggling, each in their special place, taking up most of the stuffed, soft, velvet sofa. They waiting for their Mum, while she fixed herself a quick bite to eat, for her own early dinner.
She was hurrying. Her curiosity wanted to get cracking on breaking inside her new acquisition. It may be old, but it was heavy, and definitely felt the weight of being filled with something, maybe a treasure of unknown value, so she fantasized. “Why would someone just abandon this briefcase? It gave off the vibe of containing something of value”
The answer would be found out soon enough. Carrying the briefcase under her left arm, and a plate, with a simple meal of salad and cheese, in her right hand, she joined her babies, Jasper, Jax and James, in the family room. She got cozy, finding her spot on the sofa, snuggling amongst her soft, sweet babies.
She studied the briefcase on the coffee table as she ate, and shared treats with her brood. Her imagination began to wander. It filled up with all sorts of magical imagery. What would she find? What should she wish for? Money or something more imaginative?
That’s where I’ll end it for this week. I want to keep you wondering.
Until next time.
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.
Somewhere In Time – John Barry
Written by Madison Taylor
January 14th 2008
Reaching out a hand with a flower in it
Is not verging upon hysteria waiting for a sign
Has life frightened away wanting tenderness
Or the fragile one who is patiently waiting
Will a response be returned in recognition
Of a genuine gesture of love and friendship
Or does the heart identify with one of those characters
Wanting and needing attention who will be lost without it
In the wilderness of lost dreams and nightmares
Forever wandering wondering what was missed
What path was it meant to take but turned the other way
Reaching for the stars shining high up in the darkness
The farthest thing away from reaching a heart desired
Turning around and going deep inside the soul
There is where the heart will find a resting place
Part of all in the world have turned away
Losing all sense of day or night or play
Talk for a moment about all the dreams
Seeking them takes the mind away from finding them
They are before the eyes right here inside the soul
Inside of every thought and feeling the heart possesses
Out there is only the illusion of what will not be found
Le Chateau de Rocher is the home of Madison and Scottie & their three cats Mikey, Toker and Patrick
The White Room
QUOTATIONS from: Private Writings
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.”
“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 AGGRAVATING BEHAVIOR:
“Never hide things from hardcore thinkers. They get more aggravated, more provoked by confusion than the most painful truths.” ― Criss Jami
“He is being nibbled to death by ducks. –More Later, Less the Same” ― James Tate, Selected Poems
“I suppose an analyst not getting that you are the client and he should be listening to you, not telling his own stories and being sexually perverse talking about gay sex with a lesbian who has not desire to hear about balls, and not the kind you find being tossed about on a playground, but the kind that go with the package of junk men have. Don’t misunderstand, a cliche, but one of my best friends is a gay male. This is aggravating and if I thought about, it also borders on inappropriate behavior and sexual harassment. Michael Fassbender can show his junk. It is actually quite lovely, but I don’t want my analyst going anywhere near that subject unless I am talking about an abuser raping me. Enough said.” — Madison Taylor, Letters of Import: Aggravating Behavior 16
“I suppose I have found it easier to identify with the characters who verge upon hysteria, who were frightened of life, who were desperate to reach out to another person. But these seemingly fragile people are the strong people really.” — Tennessee Williams
“When you reach for the stars, you are reaching for the farthest thing out there. When you reach deep into yourself, it is the same thing, but in the opposite direction. If you reach in both directions, you will have spanned the universe.” — ― Vera Nazarian
Pulp Fiction Quote: Ezekiel 25:15 Finder of Lost Children
Post created by Jk the secret keeper
Written by Jennifer Kiley
Post created June 28th 2013
Posted June 29th 2013
I watched two brilliant films last night which I am going to try the miracle of correlating them together and establish a cohesive reason why I feel they are in some way connected to the other. Some or none may see the sense of this post but there you have it.
I saw a brilliant documentary last night on my laptop. It was on HBOGO.com. “Love, Marilyn.” Do I need to state her whole name? I will just in case. The documentary was about and infused with Marilyn Monroe, the fiction and the real person. It was brilliant. Marilyn Monroe was constantly writing down notes of thoughts she had. Poems she created. On any surface she could find. She wrote some very amazing ideas and her words were spoken in this documentary by many famous actors from the present in a montage interspersed with images and clips from her life and her films. People from her life spoke about her in great detail. It was strikingly and beautifully done.
As the film progressed, it brought back clearly into my mind, a theory I have had for a long time, that someone murdered her. She did not overdose on pills by taking them herself. She had a whole new life planned for herself. After the studios did an all out campaign to try to destroy her career, she was set up to take the fall for The Misfits, her last completed film, for being behind schedule and over budget, when in actuality, the director, John Huston was given the money to use for gambling.
But that couldn’t be known. So, instead, John and others concocted a story and turned around blaming Marilyn for a drug problem and needed time to recover. Then her last film, she was fired from that for questionable reasons and she was made to look like she was impossible to work with and everything bad they could possibly say about her they threw out into the atmosphere. Well, their smear campaign was backfiring. Marilyn decided to fight back.
Marilyn did develop her own production company and produce her own films. She had structured the plans and pulled in the people who would help her make this happen. But when she was married to Arthur Miller he said she had to choose between it or him. She broke up her production company.
But in her last letter she felt she was in the best part of her life and was looking forward to her new world opening up before her. Now does this sound like someone who would kill them self a few days later.
She was actually happy. She looked great, More beautiful and confident then ever. She was brilliant. If you are someone interested in Marilyn Monroe, you should definitely watch this. I have always loved Marilyn, and I do remember exactly where I was and what I was doing when I heard about her death. It was in 1962 August 5th at the age of 36. I was a kid so the following thought did not occur to me until much later in my life.
I think the mob killed her and wanted to make it look like the Kennedy brothers did it. Or they wanted to punish the Kennedy’s for abandoning their supposed promises which their father Joe made. Instead Robert, as the Attorney General for his brother Jack’s Administration, was going after the Mob really hard. He wanted to bring them down. Well, the Mob wasn’t going to take their betrayal or their threats. They felt they helped get John Kennedy elected. They had to show the Kennedy’s what would happen if they didn’t back off. So they killed Marilyn because Bobby and Jack were involved with her. To show how serious they were at stopping them. When that didn’t work, they assassinated President John Kennedy in Dallas the following year. That is my theory. I am dead serious and sticking to it. There was no lone gun man and Jack Ruby, a member of the mob, killed Lee Harvey Oswald to keep him quiet. No trial. No investigation. The Warren Report was full of sh#t.
Pulp Fiction: A film that shows you a sampling of what the Mob does to people who betray them. Though I love this film, it is down right violent, humourous, yes, and also told in such an unstructured fashion.
Pulp Fiction is in and out of time. In the past, where people who are dead, suddenly are alive and the last scene in the film, there are two men, one of which was already killed earlier, walking out of a diner in tacky shorts and t-shirts. Nothing these two would ever be caught dead in. They are wearing these sh#tty looking clothes because one of them, who was waving his gun about in the car while telling a story, accidentally blows the brains out of the guy in the back seat. Obviously, he is dead but that really isn’t relevant.
The following is the famous quote from Pulp Fiction that misquotes completely from Ezekiel 23:15. Parts of it are there in the bible but I prefer this version. And if you listen to the videos that follow below, you will hear the character played by Samuel L. Jackson stating this quote with full power behind him. It is quite alarming what follows.
Don’t forget what brought them to this reckoning in the first place. It was to retrieve a special certain briefcase for Marsellus Wallace. The people they are visiting have stolen it. What is in that briefcase? Everyone has their opinion. My theory, it is the soul of Marsellus Wallace. When the case is opened a golden light shines out from within. What else comes to mind besides the light of a soul. It reminds me of the film Indiana Jones and the Ark of the Covenant. It took those fracking Nazis right out of their skin and melted them down. If that is a spoiler then you are way too young to be reading this or just not an Indie Fan. The same is true for Pulp Fiction, it has been around forever. The quote is so familiar to those who have seen the film.
Briefcase in Good Shot with Echo of Light
One of the most memorable moments, other than the scene with the adrenaline needle a mile long and a certain chest that needs an injection. If these are SPOILERS I don’t know what to say except forget everything I just wrote. They are both great films but Pulp Fiction is VIOLENT in a disturbing way. Some would say the ending to The Ark of the Covenant was pretty disturbing, also. But more GROSS than disturbing.
She went through foster care. She was almost smothered to death at two of the foster homes and almost raped at age nine. She was abused her whole childhood and life. Also, she was suffering from PTSD. Marilyn had some symptoms similar to manic depression but not certain if she was bipolar. There isn’t enough information to make that decision accurately. She wanted to be loved but started to believe it wasn’t possible. She wanted to be seen as who she was, a brilliant woman, who read extensively, was passionate and highly intelligent. She created Marilyn Monroe. That is not who she was and is. Marilyn was a persona that was a fiction. “No one knew her, not even Marilyn,” as Lee Strasberg stated. He was her acting coach and an actor himself, who curiously enough played a Jewish mobster in “The Godfather” films.
This is an amazing interview with so many wonderful and honest stories about Marilyn Monroe. The last statement will tell you what her friend felt happened at the end. Listen to it all. It will hold your attention til the end. I am not saying I agree with her conclusion, however much I would like to. I still think something wasn’t right about the ending of Marilyn Monroe’s life. I don’t feel she had anything to do with what caused her own death.
Now for the Famous Quote from Pulp Fiction: (I, also, watched this film last night with Love, Marilyn.)
“The path of the righteous man is beset on all sides by the inequities of the selfish and the tyranny of evil men. Blessed is he who, in the name of charity and good will, shepherds the weak through the valley of darkness, for he is truly his brother’s keeper and the finder of lost children. And I will strike down upon thee with great vengeance and furious anger those who would attempt to poison and destroy My brothers. And you will know My name is the Lord when I lay My vengeance upon thee.” —From “Pulp Fiction” from Ezekiel 25:17
“I’m wishing he could see that music lives. Forever. That it’s stronger than death. Stronger than time. And that its strength holds you together when nothing else can.” ― Jennifer Donnelly, Revolution
“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
“One lives in the hope of becoming a memory.” ― Antonio Porchia
“To live in hearts we leave behind is not to die.” ― Thomas Campbell
“If a man can bridge the gap between life and death, if he can live after he’s died, then maybe he was a great man. Immortality is the only true success.” ― James Dean