from thegiftsoflife.tumblr.com

I am a Wisconsin-based writer/poet living on the shores of Lake Superior.   Essays and poems have appeared in numerous literary magazines and a couple medical journals (well–numerous to me) like Frigg Magazine a few times, MadHat Lit, Third Wednesday, and more.   A memoir is in the making as I prepare myself to go back to college this winter (if all goes well) after being out for six years due to illness.  But I know now what I didn’t then–and that’s what I want to do with my time.  I plan on double-majoring in Writing and Psychology and figuring it out from there how I can implement those into an art therapy program (trauma narrative writing) for people with PTSD and/or have suffered trauma.


“Advice? I don’t have advice. Stop aspiring and start writing. If you’re writing, you’re a writer. Write like you’re a goddamn death row inmate and the governor is out of the country and there’s no chance for a pardon. Write like you’re clinging to the edge of a cliff, white knuckles, on your last breath, and you’ve got just one last thing to say, like you’re a bird flying over us and you can see everything, and please, for God’s sake, tell us something that will save us from ourselves. Take a deep breath and tell us your deepest, darkest secret, so we can wipe our brow and know that we’re not alone. Write like you have a message from the king. Or don’t. Who knows, maybe you’re one of the lucky ones who doesn’t have to.” ― Alan Watts


My Creative Nonfiction Writing blog — A collection of poetry, memoir, essays, music, music & writing, and thoughts, many to do somewhat with centering and expanding from living with PTSD and Bipolar Disorder and a curious life so far.  Each poem, essay, clip, piece is another degree that makes up the matter of where I am going.  I am training to become a peer specialist in my area and I plan to continue college–as I said above.

“If the moon smiled, she would resemble you.
You leave the same impression
Of something beautiful, but annihilating.”

–The Bell Jar


image found bing/flickr

“One doesn’t become an artist overnight. First you have to be crushed, to have your conflicting points of view annihilated. You have to be wiped out as a human being in order to be born again as an individual. You have to be carbonized and mineralized in order to work upwards from the last common denominator of the soul. You have to go beyond it in order to feel from the very roots of your being.”

–Henry Miller, The Tropic of Capricorn

“To those human beings who are of any concern to me I wish suffering, desolation, sickness, ill-treatment, indignities—I wish that they should not remain unfamiliar with profound self-contempt, the torture of self-mistrust, the wretchedness of the vanquished: I have no pity for them, because I wish them the only thing that can prove today whether one is worth anything or not—that one endures.” –Nietzsche on Suffering

“to recreate the syntax and measure of poor human prose and stand before you speechless and intelligent and shaking with shame, rejected yet confessing out the soul to conform to the rhythm of thought in his naked and endless head, the madman bum and angel beat in Time, unknown, yet putting down here what might be left to say in time come after death”…HOWL, Allen Ginsberg

—-a snippet from my 87th rough draft (of my memoir “Small Parts”):

They took me to the hospital and some small part of my mind wanted to go. Some small part of me. Small parts—that’s all we really are, aren’t we? And in the grand scheme of things this is all insignificant. We’re just statistics. Facts. Bodies filing into clinics for revival and pills and assessment. A small part of me wants to lay in a hospital bed for the rest of my life, watching tubes feed into and out of me; white coats, white blankets, white. Fix me, medical people. –excerpt by Amy Sprague

and yeah there’s a @2015copyright on all my writings, images are not mine and will/do state as such


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