With only fifteen minutes to live, this is the story that I had to tell. Day 1 of the #Trust30 Ralph Waldo Emerson “Self-Reliance” Project.
Tag Archive: Death
The Forgotten Boneyard
In Prague there is a cemetery filled with open graves. Chapter 11 of “The Secret Life of Stone”.
There’s No Place Like Home
Upheaval in the world and personally brings up the ever-present yet elusive question of “Where will I find home?”.
Storm of the Century
Trapped on a freezing tram in a blizzard that shuts down Prague’s public transportation. A real-life nightmare.
Remnants
The looming memorial of the September 11, 2001 tragedy has me thinking about things left behind.
A Love Letter To Beloved Dead
My friend Catherine’s amazing expat+HAREM post “Death at a distance”, one of the most powerful essays I have ever read, has left me processing a great deal of unresolved grief.
On Dreams, Suffering and the French Film MARTYRS
I was reminded of a strange dream I had a few years ago after recently watching the brilliant French film MARTYRS, and of course also manage to tie this back to Lady Gaga. 
The Assasination Of Marilyn Monroe
My review of the tragic “Assassination Of Marilyn Monroe”.
Portrait of A Killer
A review of Patricia Cornwell’s phenomenal forensic study “Portrait of a Killer: Jack The Ripper Case Closed”
Born Hybrid
In 1990 Chris McCandless donated all of his life savings to OXFAM and went into the wild to live in the Alaskan outback. He had the feeling he didn’t belong in the life his parents planned for him. He knew they’d not take no for an answer, wearing him down like a chainsaw until he…
Inglourious Revenge
My impassioned review of Quentin Tarantino’s magnificent “Inglourious Basterds”.
Miep, Myself and Wendy
My reflections on Miep Gies’ death as well as Wendy Soltero’s would-be 32st birthday.
In the “Nought”ies I:
Many of the things that I did in the Naughts Decade. I probably left out a bunch, but anyway.
Why I Don’t Celebrate Halloween Like I Used To
When I first moved to Europe going on seven years ago I was bummed that I felt they didn’t really celebrate Halloween, American style. Dressing up, spider webs, pumpkin carving, creepy music, Trick-or-Treating…Halloween was always my most favourite holiday. I love costumes and basically will use any excuse whatsoever to dress up. Movie premieres, themed…
A Response to Allen Ginsberg’s America
America, I trusted you with my life and you stole my innocence. America, no dollars nor credit card cents, October 28, 2000. I can’t stand my own memories. America, when will you end your genocides? Go fuck yourself with your right to bear arms. My uterus has been poisoned since your doctors put their hands…
The Bane of Forgiveness
Here in Europe we have this amazing cream called Bepanthen that is phenomenal for healing wounds without any resulting scarring. Doesn’t matter how you got the wound, scrape, burn, but if you use Bepanthen on it you absolutely will not scar. I got to thinking that maybe forgiveness is like that cream. If you don’t…
In Memoriam
Eight years ago two planes flew into New York’s World Trade Centers killing thousands. I remember my then-boyfriend waking me up to tell me what had happened. It was 8am in California and so I laughed at the news, thinking that someone had pulled a Fight Club and destroyed two empty buildings. When he reminded…
The Trauma Fairy
I am pretty sure I’ve discovered a new fairy who has been in my life for some time now. I’m calling her The Trauma Fairy, and my belief is she goes into our minds while we sleep and erases things that are just too awful to remember. One of the more dramatic times she visited…
Forever Isn’t Long Enough (Buffy Season 5, Episode 17; April 17, 2001)
This episode, “Forever”, was even worse than the last one, in terms of the tears spoutage. And look at the dates: It aired almost 2 whole months later. I wasn’t watching it back then, but for the Buffy fans that must’ve sucked. To be left with such a tragic ending and then wait so long…
Love Letter No. 1 to Alexander Supertramp: Wealth
Written on a postcard of Alex’s childhood home in Annandale, Virginia: There is too muchof youfor comfort. Where a stamp could be affixed by a father’s anger:Walking awayJanuary 29, 2009So abandon you he did.
Love Letter No. 2 to Alexander Supertramp: Faith
Written on a box car train postcard featuring a sleeping bag, tinned beans and the blur of a passing landscape: There’s not enoughof the good kind of youfor comfort. Where a stamp could be affixed by a mother’s tears:On the way from here to somewhereJanuary 29, 2009Would going into the wild help?
Love Letter No. 3 to Alexander Supertramp: Abstraction
Written on a postcard of the Denali National Park expanse: Sometimes you are the easiestpath towards understanding. Where the stamp should go it says:PragueJanuary 29, 2009Sometimes you leave us unprepared to perish.
Love Letter No. 4 to Alexander Supertramp: Choice
Written on an upside down postcard of The Magic Bus: I don’t rememberwhich way is up! Where the stamp should go but it’s in the lower left hand corner instead of upper right:SomewhereJanuary 29, 2009Trying to watch the bubbles and they make no sense.
Love Letter No. 5 to Alexander Supertramp: Memories
Written on a postcard of a Dakota wheat field, rolling hills in the distance and a lightning storm far off: You keep us warm.You leave us cold. Where a stamp could go:PragueJanuary 29, 2009You do not feed.
Love Letter No. 6 to Alexander Supertramp: Fiction
Written on a postcard of a Mexican canyon with a washed up kayak: You can bethe most honestand beautifulform of truth. Where a stamp could go but there is sand instead:Somewhere south of Los AngelesJanuary 27, 2009
Love Letter No. 7 to Alexander Supertramp: Truth
Written on a postcard of the hot springs outside San Diego where Alex learned how to carve leather: You are so hard to come by. Where a stamp would be etched into calfskin:On the wayJanuary 29 2009Yes, indeed. You are.
Love Letter No. 8 to Alexander Supertramp: Escape
Written on a postcard of Alex’s footsteps in the snow leading out into the Alaskan wild: There are no answersIn your grim silence. Where a stamp could go but it is buried by freshly fallen snowflakes:Somewhere elseJanuary 29, 2009But still, your siren song is a sweet one.
Love Letter No. 9 to Alexander Supertramp: Freedom
Written on a postcard of your red hat above the rushing gorge of water you couldn’t cross: Freedom is only realwhen shared. Where the stamp could go but there is only death:AlaskaJan 29, 2009I wish you had figured this out before it was too late for salvation.
Love Letter No. 10 to Alexander Supertramp: Happiness
Written on a postcard of the cover of Jack London’s Call of the Wild: You butterfly!Thank you for stayingOn my palmFor this long. Where a stamp could go but there is only an aching sadness:AlaskaJanuary 29, 2009Ah, Alex. You never got this.
A Love Letter to Wounded Knee
Written on a sepia-toned postcard of blood-stained snow: The heart of mineburied with youburns with the acheof injustice. Where a stamp could go but there is only sadness:Pine Ridge POW CampDecember 29, 1890I am haunted by your history.
A Love Letter to Getting Over It
Written on a postcard featuring the word lingering: I am unable. Where a stamp should go: October 24, 2008 My heart It’s almost that day again. I miss you, Wendybird. How’s River? Did you meet Heath yet?
Your reactions to Heath Ledger’s death
I always felt a strange and strong connection with Heath Ledger. It became even stranger and stronger when I found out that he has almost exactly the same birthday as me. Same day, month, year and almost the same time even. I felt it was some sort of sign. When I found out about five…
Death Of A Young Man
I always felt a strange and strong connection with Heath Ledger. It became even stranger and stronger when I found out that he has almost exactly the same birthday as me. Same day, month, year and almost the same time even. I felt it was some sort of sign. When I found out about five…
Seven Years Of Pain
Last weekend, Steve and I went to see the new Jodie Foster film The Brave One. I’ve been feeling so strangely about my life, Wendy’s death, dealing with violence, that I had mixed feelings about a movie where a woman’s response to trauma is to pick up a gun and begin killing baddies. The mixed…
That Time Of The Year
Seven years ago on October 28 in Hollywood my dear friend Wendy was murdered and died in my arms. She was killed by a 19-year-old gang member who, after my testimony, is serving a life sentence in prison. I can feel it in my spirit and my bones that The Day is approaching, albeit seven…
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