The Pain in my Heart is Killing me.

12 am.
Wednesday morning.
cannot sleep.
This pain in my heart is killing me.

A Hole in my Earth.

There is a hole in my earth without you.
I still hear you talking in my head,
and when I get up each morning
from my bed,
the first thing I hear is
how much you love me.

It pains me to see,
that there is never any
email for me,
from your body, from you head
I am sorry you think
that I might be dead.

There is a hole in my earth without you.
Sometimes I just do not know
what I am suppose to do
without you here to sing
my divine song with me,
what will the future bring.

I hear you talking in my head,
I love you,
know that I am not dead,
the only war that took me from you,
was the one the heroin dealers started
to help along our karma.

If you could only see,
why all those past lives,
mean so much to me,
my love you need to remember,
why you were born
in the cold month of December.

I just cannot help loving you
more than even myself,
you have been my wife,
way more than twice,
please don't leave me forever
within this life.


The End.

You Can Call Me.....

You Can Call Me.....

You can call me Michael
or you can call me Kim,
I am whatever sex you want me to be,
This is not a sin.
It is how I feel,
underneath my skin.

This is how it is
deep in my soul
but even my blood test will tell you,
I am not a regular female within.
Being transgendered
is the proper reflection
of what it is like underneath my skin.

You can call me Michael
or you can call me Kim,
I am whatever sex
you want me to be.
Male or female,
I am both deep within.

New Pictures!

New pictures of myself that I am very happy with. These were taken on Nov. 15th 2008 at the Bent Mentor Spoken Word Showcase.

The 2008 Bent Mentor Showcase-Michael Sigfried aka kimpunkrock

Clip of my performance at the Bent Mentor Showcase in Seattle WA. Unfortunately the person I gave my camera too didn't turn on the camera in time....so the first 30 seconds of my poem called "Something Inherited" is not there. ARGGHHH! Anyway soon I will have a disc of the whole showcase and I can put the whole piece up.

Here is what I read:

Something Inherited


The awful tides of war
That swept over my fathers family,
Was a nightmare of epic proportions
Growing up a middle class white
Family that had to survive through
World War Two Germany was not easy.
This generation of Americans does not know
What it is like to go through war
Everyday in the homeland.
War is tough on everyone, on every side.
The German people had it bad.
Not only were they faced with a madman
That took the same powers away from them
That our govt is now starting to take from us,
Powerful and Rich families in America
Had been secretly funding the Nazis war machine,
In order to create a war with them.
For my family it was only survival that they faced
My Grandfather was given a high post in the army
Commanding a POW camp for Russian soldiers
On farmland in what is now Poland.
But my grandfather was a good man
And was punished for treating the prisoners too good.
He was sent to the Russian front,
And was not seen by the family again until the 1950s.
Their life was so painful that even now
69 years later it is not talked about
and all of the facts are still unclear to me.

After my grandfather was sent to the Russian Front,
My family was then sent to a farm to live with cousins.
It was on this farm that my Aunts and Uncles buried the dead
As the war slowly moved south back into Germany.
The land became one giant meat grinder
Filled with tank tracks and bodies without heads.
My fathers first five years were spent in horrific fear.
It took them 3 times to escape the iron curtain after the war.
It was only through the kindness of a Russian Soldier
That he finally made it to America.
My Post traumatic stress disorder has been handed down
Through generations of war.
I could never blame my father for the shell shock
He was born into.
His father did not start the war,
Nor did his father.
But someday those criminal families that created these conflicts for profit
Will suffer for what they have done to our souls.
Declassified documents and extensive research has shown that
Prescott Bush, the grandfather of our current president,
George W. Bush, supplied Hitler with a lot of money
To help create the Nazi war machine.
In 1942 the FBI froze the assets of the Bush family.
Why were they forgiven?
When will that family be held accountable for their crimes against humanity?
I want justice.
I want answers.
I want peace.

Dearest Nico,

Words cannot even describe the memories within my soul of you. I hold you in my arms every night before I go to sleep. I feel you there as if a 100 years ago was just yesterday. Empower your soul. Realize that all those people you were before are all a part of you. Merge them all together and empower yourself to be the supersoul that you were born to be. Maybe then you will realize why I love you so much.

Those empty, hollow, cowards you place in your life to fill the holes that your mother, your father and the rapists left within you; will never, ever fill you up with the kind of unconditional love that you need. Only you can fill that hole and only I can keep it filled.

Ask your soul about us. Ask your higher power about us. Ask yourself about us.

I will be waiting for you always.

Your messenger,
The Punk Rock Arc Angel Michael

Never Looking Back - If All Else Fails.

Never Looking Back live in Seattle Washington playing my favorite song If All Else Fails from their album Fragile Hearts on Detonate Records out of Connecticut. www.myspace.com/neverlookingbackhc

--------------------------------------------
From the album notes:

-If All Else fails-
We go in blind and come out deaf. Our eyes deceive us until there's nothing left. We were beautiful once before that day, the day our lives would change. We took for granted the good and the bad. We put too much on being sad. It's hard to say if anything would have changed if we'd just opened our eyes and accepted the blame. No one knows how things would be right now if we had helped you out and you let down. Out of them all I loved you the most, but all that's left are regrets and false hopes. Broken hearts and broken homes have reduced us to the things we hate the most. You wanted it all but the end is what you got so let's pick up the pieces before our time runs out. If all else fails just know that this much is true...through it all I never stopped loving you.

*This is about unconditional love. The love that will make you take a bullet for someone. In your life you find people who you connect with on a deeper level than anyone else can see, whether it is a family member or someone that you meet. You become attached in a way that can never be destroyed. This person becomes a part of you. No matter what they do, no matter what choices they make you will always be there. You can be angry, sad, upset but still never stop loving them. It's about giving everything you have to show someone that there is still hope in a world they might have given up on.*

-------------------------------------------

I filmed this video on a Kodak 6 mega pixel camera not a video camera unfortunately.

The singer Jeremy is one of my best friends. This song means so much to me and so does this band. Unfortunately they broke up in August but I was there and took about 200 pictures of the show. It was one of the best shows I have ever seen in my life and not just because this band means so much to me. I miss seeing them play live more than I have ever missed seeing any other band before and believe me I have
seen a lot of bands.

*SIGH*

"Through it all, I never stopped loving you"

I Can't Hardly Stand It. (a new version) Verse 1

I can't hardly stand it, your troubling me.
I can't hardly stand it, it just can't be.
.............................................
I can't hardly stand it.
Remember the days when we went walking together,
up and down the sordid streets of Manhattan.
Remember how it felt inside of you,
when you stood next to me.
That feeling you gave me too,
I miss it so much,
it was better than any opiate
or any street drug.

I can't hardly stand it.
Your still troubling me.
I can't hardly stand it....
this really can not be.
I can't hardly stand it,
I see you watching me.
I can't hardly stand it,
Say that you love me.
------------------------------------------------
The End
of
Verse one...

...to be continued.

Why I love John F. Kennedy.

Ever since I was young, I was enamored of John F Kennedy. It could of been my grandfather that told me about it but I do not remember. Maybe I love JFK because of my last lifetime when i grew up in the 50's and 60's until my death in 1968. How do I know this you ask. Well it is a long story and this blog is not about that past lifetime-which deserves a book in itself. Anyway JFK started out as a symbol to me of all that a person can achieve and be in one lifetime. He was as punk rock as a conservative catholic that went to Harvard could ever be. The policies that he tried to enact were revolutionary and would have changed life in this country as we know it if it was not for the shadow government that killed him.

About 7 years ago I was at a talk with Charles Grodin at the New Haven Jewish Community Center. Charles Grodin is an actor from the 70's, 80's and 90's. In the 21 st century he became an anchor for 60 minutes. I always respected him and when I had a chance to see him talk, I took the opportunity. After he was done speaking I asked a question about his opinion on the drug war. I also stated that I truly believed that this country had gone down hill and been hijacked by criminals since Kennedy was assassinated. The entire room went silent. I am not sure if it was because i was in a room full of jews that didn't like Kennedy or if the people were truly in shocked over this punk rock transgendered person talking about the criminals that hijacked the country and the assignation of Kennedy.

Seven years later that same idea is all over the internet within the truth community. Alex Jones says it and so do many other constitutionalists within the anti- new world order groups. Kennedy stood against these globalists. The bay of pigs and the Cuban crisis was orchestrated behind his back by the CIA. Kennedy was about to abolish the CIA because of this. He also knew that they were bringing drugs into the country and he wanted to decriminalize drugs and make drug addiction an official disease. He saw what the CIA was doing to the people and he felt it was his duty to make it right. If Kennedy had his way, life as we know it in the USA would be a totally different place.

Kennedy had also found out about the alien and UFO conspiracy. He threatened to tell the people if the FBI and CIA did not release their documents on the subject. Well the shadow government was not having that. Not only did Kennedy piss off the CIA and members of the FBI, but he also pissed off the mafia. The CIA was able to use the mafia as part of a plot to kill Kennedy because of this animosity between them. The mafia was instrumental in getting Kennedy the nomination for the Democratic Party through his good friend Frank Sinatra. The mafia wanted Kennedy to be complicit in the drug trade between the mafia and the CIA but he was not having any of it. So he turned his back on the mafia even though he owed them some favors. He truly wanted to be a president of the people.

In the fall of 1963, the CIA, the mafia and members of the government killed John F. Kennedy for all of the reasons I gave you above. There is way more to the story. But this is a blog not a book. JFK is seriously one of my heroes. I even found an official presidential photo of JFK in this abandoned house. It is one of those pictures that hung up in all the state/government offices across the country while JFK was in office. I still have it and i treasure it.

There are only a handful of people alive and dead that I love and respect more than anything. Only one is not famous. JFK is the only president of the bunch. If I was to die tomorrow I would want to spend my time speaking with him in the after life. I know for a fact that he is still there. He cannot reincarnate until the truth officially comes out, per order of his soul. I am not sure why that is but you can understand what it must be like being the soul of JFK.

May god bless him.

Me and John F. Kennedy Part 2

Video of the presidential profile series on John F Kennedy. Side 2 of the record plays while I ponder in the background what he is saying in relation to our lives now. JFK is one of my heroes. He fought the New World Order!

Someday I will have a tattoo of JFK.

Get informed!
Resist the New World Order!
all my love
kpr

What is missing is me.

I spend a lot of time thinking about the spirit and soul in relation to life. It is hard for me to not include others in these thoughts, for no journey on the planet would be complete without the souls I have incarnated with. It is hard to not think about certain people in relation to myself on the planet. It is hard not to love these people very deeply. For life is about love, love is about life. We are here on the planet to love and experience, experience and love but we have lost sight of the love part of life. Most of us are just here for the experience and give no thought to loving people for the sake of loving them. Most people love others in order to achieve something from them, whether its sex, or companionship or money or presents or validation. Most people do not love just for the sake of loving someone. But that my friends is how we are suppose to love. When you love someone just because you love them, you love them unconditionally. We are suppose to love ourselves this way, others this way and the world this way. I love Nico this way because I love myself this way. I love her because I love her. Love has no proper explanation, it is a feeling inside. it is how someone makes you feel when you think about them, it is all good and it is all light. But what is missing is me. There may be us on some level of life, but what is missing is me.

I am stuck between the physical realm and the spiritual realm. My love for Nico takes me into the spiritual realm and reminds me that this love is the love that makes up everything in the universe. This love is how I feel about myself and how I feel about the world. Digging through the dirt in my heart after being hurt over many times in many different ways has led to an endless treasure trove of love inside of me. She is a huge part of that love. That is the light of my truth but what is missing is me.

Who am I really? How can I truly know who I am without a mirror to look into everyday to see the wonderment that is my soul through the mirror of your eyes. What is missing is me.

Sitting here.

I am sitting here as usual thinking about Nico. Sometimes I feel like I am completely off my nut and how did I get here in the first place? Before I met Nico I wasn't the happiest person in the world; but at least there was not one thought, person and memory bank that was blocking my ability to function, be happy and most importantly have the ability to know that there is someone out there for me. Now when I forecast my soul into the future and scan my present path to the future looking for the sign of a spouse-I come up blank, except for her. When I was younger I always knew that there was someone out there for me but that is was going to take a long time for us to be together. Go Figure.

Now that I am 36, I hear her in my head everyday. I am not crazy. Her and I have the ability to telepathically communicate in a huge way. She had the ability to know what I was thinking within the first two weeks of us knowing each other. That is very deep. Her powers of thought and spirit are ten times that of mine and mine are huge! You cannot even imagine how powerful this girl is. I am so in rapture over her soul. We tell each other how much we love each other just about everyday. I am not sure if there are days where we don't communicate at all but every once in a while it happens. We can communicate all day long if we want too. She knows when I am taking a shit and I know when she's walking around New York City, drinking coffee and talking to other people. If she allows me to I can track her movements all day long, but I would have to be pathetic to spiritually do this every second. As it is, our souls talk to each other alot, everyone needs some minutes to themselves.

I find myself unable to relate to 99.9 percent of other people because of this. Who else in this world has this kind of relationship? I doubt many people. One way or another whether its this life or the next, we will get the chance to finish what we started and continue where we left off a long time ago before everything got fucked up with heroin. But who knows when this will happen. How can I just go about my life just waiting for her. I cannot spend the rest of this life waiting for the next life. I just cannot do that. But I am suffering, suffering big time.

If it was not for the memory of our past lives I would really go insane. At least through these memories and thoughts I can make some kind of sense out of all this. I have done everything else on god's green earth to let go of this love that left me. Everyone goes through this if they allow themselves to love someone. I am not alone in that, but I am definitely alone with this.

I can't help but love this person. It does not matter that I have not seen her in ten years. Absence just makes the heart grow fonder and because I have this immense understanding of our past lives with the knowing that love never, ever dies, what the hell is 10 years when we have been together for 1000's and 1000's of lifetimes. She was the first to see our past lives.

My favorite moments of the day are when she shows me she loves me through a metaphor from a different life that I have not seen yet. They are wonderful and endless. I wish everyone could have a relationship like this, but actually have the person in body. The most painful moments of my day are when I realize how much she is actually not here and that she will not be here tomorrow or the next day or the next after that. The ball for actual communication is in her court. I cannot do anything more to get her to open up to me in body rather than just in spirit. It is very painful just sitting here hoping and waiting that someday the phone will ring, there will be a knock at the door or a letter in my Yahoo mail box. I wish I could just write about it and let it go, but I can't.

Existence, the universe, the planet earth and our karma is bigger than the both of us. I do not fully understand it but I do have a pretty good understanding of who I am and who she is to me. If we were together, my soul would be complete. I could learn so much about myself, my life, my talents and my purpose if we were together. She is not here because of my regrets. I was told by my master (spirit) guide that I made a huge mistake with her. My regrets were many and I was told that I would suffer for a long time because of it. I was told this in 95. 13 years later-those words remain a fact. I still suffer because of my regrets. I still suffer for the mistakes I made that had to do with youthful indiscretions and the lack of experience I had with sex and love.

If I had only known how deep we actually went when we were together, if only I had known. I fucking love her so much. God help me.

The Bent Spoken Word Showcase.

On Saturday November 15th I am preforming an important spoken word piece in the Bent Showcase. Tickets are on sale now. This will sell out so if you want to come, let me know and I can find a ticket for you. Not that anyone here in Seattle really gives a shit about me and will want to come (except for maybe a small handful of people). I know most of you who would want to come live far away. To all those people I know you are there in spirit. I love you all.

Manhatten Video Tape--the first 20 pages.

This is the first 20 or so pages of my Novel called Manhattan Video Tape. Please read and give me some feedback. I am about half done with it but it is all in pieces and needs to be transcribed, edited and added to.

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Manhattan Video Tape
the first 20 or so pages.


January 1992. I am a student at the University of Connecticut. I came here during the fall of 1990 to play Division 1 field hockey but things did not go as planned. My grades sucked, I had no real friends, just a bunch of back stabbing jocks from the field hockey team that liked me about as far as they could throw me. I was different than the rest of team; to them I was just some weird punk rock chic. During the early 90’s, punk had not hit the mainstream yet and anyone that identified with that culture was very misunderstood. I was not welcomed in as a part of their inner field hockey circle, but when it came down to being hazed, I was the first on their list.
The University of CT at this time was known as one of the biggest party schools in the nation. Actually I think it was rated number 3 on the list. I had been a drinker in high school, but I had not done any drugs at all except for alcohol. Pot had not hit the small town I was from yet. The Field Hockey team was known for being a bunch of drunken jocks that threw some of the best parties on campus. The only reason I was invited to these parties was because the team wanted to haze me and boy did they ever.
I was forced to drink pitcher of beer after pitcher of beer during any one of the many drinking games the team partook in. When I was so drunk I could not walk, I was beaten up, thrown around, slapped, made fun of and made to walk home from the parties that were off campus. When I think about it now I am amazed that I made it back to my dorm room at all after these off campus parties, no one had any respect for me, least of all myself.
After a few years of this, my grades suffered and because I was put on academic probation I was kicked off of the team. If I had been a starter or someone important on the varsity team, they would have hired me some tutors but I was nothing but the 3rd string practice Goalie that did not even get to travel with the team half of the time. Nothing was working out as I planned.
After I was kicked off of the team, none of the friends that I had from the team wanted anything to do with me, not that it mattered anyway none of these people were real friends of mine anyway. At this time I was starting to question my sexuality. Most of the team was either gay or in the closet. During practice, people would ride by in their cars and yell “DYKES!” at us out of their windows. I was the first among my circle of friends on the team that came out. I admitted to them that I was probably bi-sexual and it was after I made this announcement that they really wanted nothing to do with me. If I had said I was gay, they would have accepted me, but because I said I was bi-sexual I got the cold shoulder. They thought it was gross that I could not make up my mind. The funniest thing about this whole situation was that all 3 of them years later came out as being gay and apologized to me.
During the winter break of 91/92 I had gone to my first gay bar. Even though I had a miserable time at every gay bar I had gone to, I was still satisfied that I was able to finally come out of the closet. But I knew right then that I did not really fit in the gay scene at all, mostly due to the fact that I was a punk rocker and most gay people in CT were not.
With my new found sexual freedom I became very rebellious. I shaved my head, moved out of the dorms and started smoking cigarettes. There was no more field hockey and no more fucked up friends. It was also at this time that my childhood and hometown rival died. Her name was Tara Wymes and she was a punk rock legend.
Tara was a film student at SUNY Purchase when she died during the shooting of a student film. No one really knows what happened. She and a buddy were in a rowboat off of the Hamptons in Long Island New York when somehow the boat capsized. Her body and that of her friend, washed up to shore 3 days later.
Tara and I never really got along. Even though we tried to be friends many times, we could not get over the rivalry that was between us. Both of us wanted to be actors and were always in competition for parts in school plays. She was smarter than me back then and the only class we shared was Drama. It was our passion.
In high school we got into our first fist fight in the bathroom during a school dance. It was a fight over a guy, her first fuck and my best friend that I was completely in love with. His name was Jeremy Lamb. He was a skater boy who turned me onto hardcore music at the age of 15. He was my passion. I never wanted to fight her but she started it. She blamed me for the reasons that Jeremy hated her, when actually he hated her way more after the fight then he ever did before. I was his best friend and even though I lost the physical part of the fight-I won his favor.
After the fight I barely saw her. We had gone to different high schools, she went to Taft private school and I was forced to go to the public school that my mom taught at. After high school, I saw her a handful of times. It was at these times when we started to become friends. I really wanted to be her friend but it felt like we were in a century long feud. We both wanted the same things out of life. It was during one of these times that she mentioned that I had no idea who I was yet and boy was she right. When she died, almost instantaneously I knew who I was, who I had wanted to be, who I could be and what I wanted out of life. I had to get out of UCONN, without field hockey there was nothing there for me.
So I decided to leave CT to follow my dreams of being a film maker and actor. This dream had been with me since I was 2 or 3 years old. It never left me, I had just forgotten about it through the lack of support my parents showed me. Tara had now become an angel guiding me. This meant more to me than anything in the world.
My last semester at UCONN glided by, I had made some new friends that were also gay. It was through them that I started to smoke pot and it was also through them that I met my first girlfriend. Her name was Jennifer Edwards but everyone called her J for short. I had met her through my friend Amy’s girlfriend Reebok. Reebok had come to CT from North Carolina to visit Amy and it was my bright idea to take a road trip with my car to get her back to NC. What a long and fun trip it was. 15 hours each way. There were three of us-Amy, Reebok and myself. They had sex in my backseat as we drove over the George Washington Bridge. I wished I knew then what a sign that was because a year later I would be living in New York City.
When we arrived in Wilmington the next morning it was a non stop party with alcohol and pot. J was Reebok’s best friend and a student at UNCW. She was also a writer, a pot head and a struggling codeine addict. Later that night we hooked up and I officially had my first girl friend.
Leaving Wilmington was hard, we exchanged numbers and I promised to call. I went back to CT with a renewed sense of purpose. J and I talked on the phone a lot. The next weekend we headed down to NC again to see our girlfriends. It was that weekend where I had my first girl on girl sex. It was a fantastic weekend and she taught me to smoke pot out of a water bong. I have to laugh now as I remember how long it took me to be able to get a hit off of that thing.
We drove down to NC a lot and sometimes those 15 hour trips were bad. One time one of my tires went bald and I had to get a new one although I had no money at all so I wrote a bad check. One time over the Delaware Bridge riding over the Potomac River there was such a bad ice storm that I could hardly see at all. I was scared shitless driving through that and the same thing happened on the way back through New Jersey. I believe it was our prayers to Our Lady of the Highways that got us through some of those trips.
The last weekend we went down there I caught J having sex with some fat chic and that was it. My first relationship with a girl lasted about 2 months. I cried when she dumped me. It was after this that my parents started to figure out what was going on. My sister had asked me if I was gay and I told her that I was bi-sexual. She instantly told my parents and was the golden girl from then on. I regretted ever telling her the truth. My sister had viciously stabbed me in the back to get in good with my parents. My parents were very homophobic and my life was hell from then on.
My pot smoking and partying got heavy from that moment on. I was never without a bag of pot. My friends and I got caught smoking weed in their dorm room and we all got in trouble even though they never found any pot. For some reason I had a sixth sense and put the bag away right before they knocked on my friends door. It was my bag anyway. We all got personal probation and because I was all ready on academic probation-I was kicked out of UCONN and not only was I kicked out of their main branch of campus; I was barred from ever going to any other branch of UCONN.
That summer at my parent’s house was hell because of my sexuality. I spent the entire summer smoking weed, drinking alcohol, riding around in my car listening to punk, hardcore and grunge. 1992 was a great year for music. Pearl Jam, Nirvana and Soundgarden were now main stream and I loved it.
There was some serious partying going on that summer and I was becoming known for a huge pot head. It was the summer of 92’that I met Dallas Campbell, Tara’s ex-boyfriend from London, England. We became great friends and eventually I went to London to hang out with him. It was there that I had gotten my first leather jacket and my nose pierced. I also became best friends with Chris Verdosci, another one of Tara’s closest friends. He had also come out of the closet so we had a lot in common being 2 of the only out gay people in the small town where we were from. He was my buddy and we complimented each other greatly. A pattern was emerging where I was becoming good friends with all of these people that were important to Tara. But it was one person in particular that had the most effect on me. Her name was Deidre and after I met her I would never be the same.
It happened on a Saturday night. Deidre was visiting with Tara’s parents and it was my task to show her a good time, so of course we got some booze and went to a party that some older kids were having. Deidre was a beautiful short punk rock, gothic type chic with black hair, brown eyes and cool clothes. She started kissing me, to my surprise, and instantly I fell in love with her. She captured my soul and dressed me up with poetry and punk. I learned a lot from her in a short period of time. I had become obsessed and when she blew me off for some guy a few months later I was crushed. Before this disappointment, she had given me this sweet bomber jacket that she had made from pieces of other bomber jackets. I wore this jacket every day for months. It became a symbol of freedom for me. I was unable to dress punk as a kid because of my mother, so I played the role of the jock for my mom until I left UCONN. Now my mom had no say in what I wore any more. My hair was now dyed green; I had a nose ring and was now officially the person I always wanted to be, on the outside at least.
I played on my mother’s fears for all they were worth. When I wanted to go to London to visit Dallas, they gave me money and bought my ticket-anything to get me out of the house. It was the fall of 1992. Dallas and I had a blast. We smoked hash and drank Guinness. I loved London, I felt at home there. On the streets, people actually asked me for directions! I ate fish and chips, bought my first motorcycle jacket and it was here that I wrote the first poem I had written in years. It was called-“Sitting in a London Pub”.

Sitting in a London Pub,
Reflecting upon my life
As my sorrows and dreams
Come rushing upon me.

You are not here with me,
I sit alone,
But thinking of you,
Makes the Guinness go down easier.

A scorned woman sings from the juke.
I am not a duke.
Pool table calls
And I shall beat them all.

It was in this same pub that Dallas and I sang Jane’s Addiction songs during an open mic. We met a few girls there also, it seemed like everyone in London was bi-sexual. But I was still hung up on Deidre and wanted nothing to do with these girls, much to the chagrin of Dallas. We got drunk and stoned almost every night I was there. We had talked about going to a rave and experimenting with other drugs but we never had a chance. Dallas was pretty broke and considering that the dollar lost to the pound- I didn’t have enough money to pay for both of us.
Dallas I had long talks about Tara and heroin. We both wanted to try it but did not have the nerve. He played the guitar and we sang sad songs all day. He gave me this now famous picture of him and Tara when she was at Taft. He also had a pair of army pants that Jeremy had given Tara. Boy did I want them but he would not part with them and I totally understood why. Tara was gone and he loved her very much.
When it was time for me to leave, he asked me to stay and find a job. Even though I really wanted to, my parents had paid for 2 classes at Northwestern Community College and I had to get back and finish them, although I only ended up finishing one of them. I wished I had stayed. On the way to America, I was able to smuggle some hash in my Drum tobacco, which I smoked with my friends in CT the day after I returned. My mother almost died when she picked me up at the airport and my nose was pierced. I was bombarded with insults from my mom during the trip from the airport to home. My friends were stoked about it. I felt very industrial with a piece of metal in my nose.
One day a few weeks after returning from London, my best friend Rena and I decided to take a ride into New York City. The first place she took me was to St. Marks Place where all the punks were at. I felt at home there. I had bought an earring of the Anarchy symbol because my life was all about anarchy. Little did I know at the time that everything was going to change. I knew that the East Village was where I belonged and where I needed to be. So I looked for a way out of CT.
About a week later I was reading the Village Voice when I saw an advertisement for the New York Film Academy. It was a two month intensive program in which you got to make four 16 mm films in two months instead of going through bullshit college classes. It cost around 3500 dollars, about the same amount as one semester at UCONN. When I pitched the idea to my parents, once again they were stoked, another thing that was going to get me out of the house. They asked me where I was going to live and I told them that I would find a place.
In order to get into the school you had to go through an interview. Chris Verdosci and I took a ride into NYC for my big interview. We got a little lost but I still made it in time for my interview. The building where the New York Film Academy was located was in Tribeca and was actually owned by Robert Deniro. This impressed the shit out of me.
The guy who interviewed me was named Steve. He was very nice and I was impressed with the school. This was a film school for spoiled kids that were rejects from other film schools. I had passed Steve’s part of the interview and had to meet with the director of the school who was this crazy, drunken, bearded, artsy looking guy. I think he was from Europe. He was really nice but I swear he was drunk. He liked me and I was approved to start on January 6th of 1993. They advised me to find student housing in the city. Rena actually helped me with that.
The place I found was located on 103rd ST. and Amsterdam Ave. The American Youth Hostel offered furnished rooms for students. A single cost $500 a month. The day I went to look at the place a few of my friends came with me. I really liked the place. There was always a lot of people, students from all sorts of different schools and backpackers from all over the world. I met with the manager and he showed me a certain room on the second floor. It was a single was the only single room with a balcony outside of the window. There was a desk with some drawers and a bed. I told him I would take it and filled out the appropriate forms. I was on my way. January 2nd 1993 was the day I was too be moving in. As soon as I got home to CT, I started packing my things. At this moment in time, life could not get any better than this.
The winter of 1992 was like an emotional earthquake. I had gone through a lot in one year and looking back, emotionally and sexually I was not ready for New York. Maybe if I had accepted the counseling that UCONN offered to me 6 months before I got kicked off the team, things would have been better for me. But at that time I was too into drinking, playing field hockey and being a punk then looking at what was wrong with me. My alcohol problem was really a problem but my youthful ignorance hid my issues from me. Growing up, my family did not deal with any emotional issues that we were dealing with, so I was taught to keep it in, put it away and forget about it. I was holding a lot in, more than I even knew.
There is an old windmill that was a special spot to me by my parent’s house in Thomaston Connecticut. I use to hang out and party. I went there with my friends and by myself. As a kid it was my favorite place to drive by. As a young adult I did all my most important thinking there. It was even the place that Deidre had first kissed me at. The place met a lot to me and I had done a lot of partying there. My first time messing around with acid, my friends and I spent a good portion of the trip there. It was awesome. I had also had seen many, many UFO’s there.
Right before I left for New York City, I went there to smoke some pot and ponder what moving to New York City meant to me. At the place where I had met my youth, I was saying goodbye to my innocence. I was about to fulfill a lifelong dream but all I could think about was that I was leaving The Windmill and my most importantly my innocence. I knew that even though I was moving to New York City for film school, I was really moving there to fall in love and to party. My whole life there was someone missing in my life, even though I did not know who she was, her spirit was with me always. In the music I listened to, in the movies I watched and most importantly in my hopes and dreams. I had been searching for this girl my whole life and I had a feeling that she was in New York City. Something big was going to happen and I was just not ready for it. But ready or not there it was, that long fought for freedom I had always wanted out of life. I could hardly sleep that night.



Chapter Two


My father drove me into the city on the day I moved in. We had to go back 3 miles away from my parent’s house because I was so excited I forgot my rent check, my portfolio and the posters for the walls of my dorm room. I realized that I was going to miss my Dad but I was definitely not going to miss his fascist attitude and all his rules like no burning candles in the house, no smoking in the house, no burning incense in the house and most importantly no lesbian sex in the house. Although it was all right for him to have many porno films that featured lesbian sex, it was not all right for his daughter. As a matter of fact my parent’s homophobia worked in my favor-they were paying a lot of money to let me live in New York City and mostly to get me out of their house without kicking me out. I appreciated the fact that my parents during the 80’s and early 90’s were upper middle class and said I love you through a 20 dollar bill. I knew what the deal was at an early age that money was the most important thing in the world to my parents and because they could not say the words “I love you”, they said it through money. This fucked me up but I was going to use it to my advantage as much as I could, for as long as I could.
On the way to New York all I could think about was smoking pot in my first New York apartment. I only had about a nickels worth but I figured I could find another bag pretty easy in New York City. The move in was pretty easy and there were carts for me to use. It took us about 3 trips and parking was a bitch. I really appreciated my Dad’s taking me there and helping me move in. When we were done moving my stuff in, we went across the street for a piece of pizza and some sodas. I got sad when he was about to leave and tears filled my eyes. He told me that everything was going to be all right and to be happy. He was right. I walked him to his car, hugged him and waved goodbye.
Putting together my room was easy. I had bought this portable closet to put my clothes in and as soon as I finished eating my pizza, I got stoned. When my stereo was all set up I put in some Ministry and ended up listening to music all night. I could tell the hostel was probably not ready for me, but I covered the smell of the pot with incense and made sure the music was not too loud. The balcony in my room was at the end of the room and looked out onto Amsterdam Ave. I had to remove wooden blocks off my window to be able to go out there. I was not officially suppose to go out there but the manager told me they did not mind it if I did, as long as I didn’t throw things to the street or make a lot of noise out there. I stood out there for a second and smoked a joint.
“Wow”, I thought “I am finally free.” If only that statement was true.
The room was smaller that my UCONN dorm room but big enough for me and my masturbating little body. I had brought my vibrator with me, thank god. It was one of those back massager ones that I had been using for at least 4 years. I loved it. I was a professional masturbator because I was too shy and confused to have any kind of sex life growing up. Getting my self off was something that helped pass the loneliness of time spent by myself, which was always. I had never really had any kind of long distance relationship and I had only had sex 3 times with a girl and 3 times with a boy. I was very inexperienced sexually and I was about to find out just how much experience I did not have. That night I had sex with myself. I made love to the city. I had come in search of love, fame and a good time. I was very happy to be out of Connecticut. There was no love for me there. I was tired of being the outcast that got picked on all the time. I was always being harassed or fucked with when I went to the store or out to eat. There was a lot of homophobic, freak-phobic redneck morons’ back then in Connecticut. There were a lot of things I hated about Connecticut. For example everything but the trees and my friends, it was a very, very oppressive, lonely place for me. Almost everyone around me was satisfied there but me. I did not even fit in with my friends. My sex life sucked and not even the trees could make up for the lack of fulfillment that I felt there. Something was stirring inside of me and now that I was in New York City, the intensity of it scared me. But that feeling was also the one thing that excited me and kept me going. My first weekend in New York City was a lonely one. School did not start yet and I did not know a soul. Perhaps I was lonely, perhaps I was scared, but I spent my first weekend there drunk, stoned and day dreaming of the days ahead.
A few days before school started I had to go down to the New York Film Academy and get my student ID taken. I carried my skateboard and in my Discman I was listening to The Red Hot Chili Peppers. I put on my French army coat, my Doc Martin boots and took the 1/9 train to Canal St, which was the wrong stop by the way. I stood on the corner of Canal St. and tried to ask someone for directions to Greenwich St. in Tribeca. It was only one subway stop away but it took me a half an hour to get an unhappy New Yorker to help me.
After a lot of sweat I finally found the building. I strutted into that place with the biggest smile on my face. Everything felt like one big TV show, New York was the set and I was the star. Steve took my picture and it looked as if he was happy to see me, though I have no idea why. The building was quite impressive because it also housed the production company that put out Truth or Dare, the Madonna music docudrama. This impressed me because I was a Madonna fan and I was a proud owner of her erotic book called Sex. It was one of my favorite possessions and worth a lot more than the 75 dollars that I paid for it.
After the photo session I had no idea where to go to next. I was in awe at the intensity of the city. All I had to do was look around, I was really happy to be here. I ended up walking to the Lower East Side although I did not know where I was officially. I took the train back home and was totally exhausted from my first deep excursion into the city. I was still confused as to how the streets went, but I knew that if I just kept my face in the Village Voice and went out on adventures that sooner or later I would be a pro at getting around New York City.
I spent another lonely night at the hostel finishing off my weed and a 40 ounce beer. Tomorrow I was going to hang out with Rena, who at the same time as me, moved into New York City. I beat her by a few days. I couldn’t wait to see her. She was one of my best friends and I was not use to being without my friends, my few days in New York were pretty damn lonely.
That next night I called Rena but she was not there and had decided at the last minute to take a trip to Connecticut. Her roommate Michelle was there and she invited me to their place to drink some beer and smoke some weed. I could not wait to hang out and meet people. They lived at 25th street and 9th avenue. On the way there I picked up a few 40’s of Crazy Horse.
Rena had always given me a lot of love, clothes and friendship. We use to go to the Salvation Army together all the time. She was a freaky style Diva loved by all those who were lucky to know her. She had many admirers and was way ahead of her time. Ever since she was in Junior High she just had to hang out in a city. She use to get in trouble with her racist Dad for dating black guys from Waterbury Connecticut, the nearest city to the small town we lived in.
I was all ready drunk when I got to their apt. I had run out of weed and was expecting to cop some through Rena’s friends but unfortunately Michelle could not help me in the same way. I probably would not have gotten so drunk, so fast if I had some weed to level me out.
On the train downtown I did not feel unsafe at all. When I was growing up all I heard about New York City subways was that everyone gets mugged and raped. But the subways really are not like that. Everybody minds their own business. Do unto others that you’d have done to you. Basically as long as you don’t fuck with anybody, they will not fuck with you. Actually I felt like people were actually scared of me. Little old ladies grabbed their purse strings tighter when they saw me sit down near them. I looked hard and punk but inside I was a complete puppy dog.
Every second in New York felt like Deja Vue. I felt like I had been born here. Every step I took was precise. There was a voice inside of me saying-“Only the strong survive and you know how to do it.” I knew that I was not alone in this world. Something amazing was going to happen.
Listening to Ministry and being drunk in the subway made my ego pump. I felt like I was projecting the most amazing energy that really said ‘I love you people but don’t fuck with me’ and those I came in contact with felt it. The intense music I was listening to was pumping through my veins. I felt alive.
I got a little lost when I got off the subway but I found my way quickly. When I arrived at Rena’s, Michelle sensed right away that I was drunk. She said that she was worried about me because she knew I liked to party and that New York City was no place for wild punk rock chicks that like to party. I told her not to worry about me. I got kind of annoyed because for one I hardly knew Michelle and for two why did she care what I did. It was obvious that I could not get any weed from her or the people she knew.
A little while later some dudes from the projects across the way came over to hang out with Michelle and her friends. I asked him if he could get me some weed but he says-“No but I can get you heroin.”
“Heroin” I said, “I have always wanted to try it.”
“No!” Michelle interjected, “Don’t sell her any drugs!”
“Sorry.” He says, “No Fish Today!” I laughed. “It is shooters dope anyway, and if you never tried it, I am not going to be the first person to give it to you.” Enough said. I was glad he said that and I let it go.
I got bored pretty quick without weed so I left. Michelle and Rena were actually straight edge but not in the straight edge hardcore type of way. They just did not drink or do any drugs. Rena was never into drinking mostly because her racist Dad was also an alcoholic and a pretty bad one at that. I had never seen him do anything but cook once or twice a week at his restaurant or just sitting and drinking absolute vodka on his expensive leather chair. He was the kind of drunk who was just drunk all the time and red faced every second of the day. I totally understood why she did not drink. My parents never drank and when I would get questioned for drinking I just smiled and said everything is ok I am not dumb like my friends, even though I was one of the biggest jock drunks in high school. But now my life was about weed, I had to have weed. I was too drunk to be without it. In hindsight I wish I had given up the booze and just smoked the weed. I would have been better off.
Michelle was worried about me so she walked me to the subway. The only thing on my mind that night was finding some pot. I had no idea where to look, so when I got off the 1/9 at 103rd street I asked the first junkie I saw. It ended up to be a homeless young black lesbian named New Jersey.
“Hey girl, do you know where I can get some weed?” I asked her.
“Yeah” she says. “I can get you some weed for two dollars so I can get some Night Train.”
“Sure,” I said. “No problem” and I handed her the two dollars and she took me on a walk down a few blocks up into Harlem and the upper west side. As we were walking she told me that she was gay and that her girlfriend was following us because she though she was going to cheat on her with me. I laughed hard and told her that I wasn’t into her girl that I just wanted weed. I laughed hard at this situation.
Of course I had to wait around the corner and when they came back I was pretty sure they dipped into my bag but I didn’t really give a fuck. I was too stupid to realize that I should have gone to Washington Square Park where they had weed 24 hours a day. But no one I knew ever told me this. I guessed I should have found out before I moved to New York where to buy pot, but the only people I knew that knew anything about New York was Rena, whose first priority was not getting me weed and Tara who was dead. The town I was from was criminally small.
On the way back to the hostel I got harassed by this group of young black dudes drinking 40’s on a stoop. They started throwing bottle caps at me as I walked by. I turned around to say something and New Jersey told me not to do that. “They would have raped you if we were not there” she said.
“Well then thank you very much.” I said and high tailed it to the hostel.
I was hella drunk when I got there and the first thing I saw was the cutest little grunge guy I had ever seen. He was working at the desk and lived at the hostel. He was short and had long curly black hair. He was wearing an old brown sweater vest and a flannel. Totally grunge, a little Eddie Vedder, the lead singer of pearl jam, look alike. We started talking and he asked me if I wanted to go to a rave. I told him sure and he said he would meet me at 11 O’clock when he got off of work. It was about 10 o’clock when I went to my room. I was stoked to hang out with this cutie. So I went up stairs and smoked a bowl, finally after all that work. The room started spinning and I knew I was definitely too drunk to go to a rave. I put some early Nine Inch Nails on my stereo and I tried to sober up.
At 11 o’clock I went down to meet Andrew. We decided to not go to the rave but to smoke some weed on a balcony instead. We went and bought some more alcohol and I drank Southern Comfort I bought when I went to that liquor store with New Jersey, the crack ho that got me the weed.
The balcony was beautiful but I could literally hear gun shots from the direction where I had just bought the weed. That was sort of a quick wake up call for me. The night air was chilly but being with this little cutie warmed me up. This kid was totally my type and I had not made out in a long time.
After a little while it got too cold in the midnight January night so we went around visiting to the other people that lived and worked in the hostel. This one guy I met was a real asshole. He was a white spoiled, gay asshole. For some reason he just did not like me and when I spilled some of my drink, he made fun of me for about a half hour.
After we ended up back in my room and listened to some Smashing Pumpkins. He started looking at Madonna’s Sex book. I could see his cock get hard. I jumped on top of him and we humped each other until we both got off. I was so relieved to finally get some action. New York was definitely good to me and I had not even been there a week yet. We both passed out and when I woke up he was gone. I was completely satisfied with that. The rest of the weekend I just relaxed and got to know my neighborhood. I mentally prepared myself for the start of the New York Film Academy on Monday.


Chapter 3

I was super stoked about starting the New York Film Academy. Being a film maker and actor was something I had wanted to be my whole life. Ever since I saw the original King Kong at the movie theater in 1977, I was obsessed with films and film making. My background in film ranged from the recent classics of 1970’s and the 1980’s, but my main cinematic passion was (and still is) the black and white films of the 1930’s and 1940’s. I was very drawn to the feel of black and white as a kid. My first heroes were Humphrey Bogart and James Dean. My parents picked up on this at a young age and at every holiday or birthday, I got something that had to do with those two legends of Hollywood, Humphrey Bogart and James Dean.
My first day of school I wore my favorite army pants, my Doc Martin boots, my French army jacket and a Nine Inch Nails long sleeve hooded t-shirt. It was my favorite shirt at the time and I had worn it in London. The shirt still held some rips and tears from a drunken stoned night at The Australian Doors show in London England. The Australian Doors were a huge Doors cover band from Australia and I swear the singer looked exactly like Jim. It was really tripped out going sick for The Doors or the closest thing to the real thing possible at least.
I was nervous but completely confident and excited for school. New York City was instilling a confidence in myself I had never felt before. The buildings, the people, the subway, the buses, the taxis, the parks, the girls, the streets, the newspapers, the alcohol, the drugs, the clubs, everything was very exciting to me. It had been my dream since I was a little girl to move to New York City before I even really knew what New York City was. King Kong had a huge positive effect on me, more than I even knew. Plus I was having
intense episodes of deja vue almost everywhere I went. I was floating on air but there was also something else stirring inside of me that had been trying to get out for a long time. As much as I felt the light of my love for the city, I equally felt the darkness inside of me slashing its tail with the same intensity as I felt the love inside of me. These were important days ahead. I never felt more serious in my life as I made my way to the 1/9 subway downtown to the Greenwich Avenue stop in Tribeca, equipped with my portfolio, my discman and a pack of camel lights.
The first day of classes we all met in the big screening room that the building had. There we were to find out the course schedule and how everything worked. We were told we were going to be split up into two groups and from there 5 groups of 4. In these groups of 4 we would make our 4 films with each person rotating jobs when working on the others films. It all sounded awesome to me. The first task at hand before they broke us up in two was for everyone to get up in front of the class and tell some things about themselves. I looked around the room and surveyed the other students. None of them really interested me except for this one girl who got up before me. I had seen her shoes walk by first because I was looking down and I noticed she was wearing Doc Martins too. Back then you could tell who was into punk and the underground if they were wearing Doc Martins. I had the boots on; she had the shoe version of the boot I was wearing. She and I were the only people in the class wearing Doc Martins. What she said when she spoke went completely threw me. I was a bit transfixed at this girl who was about 5’4” (the same height as me), big breasted (like me), long gorgeous black hair, big brown eyes and a face that was curvy in just the right places. She looked like a cross between an old movie star diva from the 30’s and a old school punk rocker. She was wearing a black leather motorcycle jacket and tight black jeans. But when it came my turn to speak, I forgot about her and concentrated at the task at hand.
I felt all the eyes on my as I strutted towards the stage to speak. I looked around the room before I began to sum up the other students in the audience. I wanted everyone to know that I was not someone to fuck with. I could feel their souls understood and I started my speech.
“My name is Kim, I am from a really small town in Connecticut. I have wanted to be a film maker and an actress my whole life. I recently went to the University of Connecticut and it was there that I realized how full of shit mainstream college was. I am very happy to be here and I am up for everything and anything film wise. Thanks for giving me the opportunity to be here.” When I was done a few people actually clapped. This blew me away because no one else got clapped for. I guess they liked what I said about college considering that most of us were spoiled rejects from other schools.
After everyone was done, we took a small 15 minute smoke and bathroom break. I went outside with a group of about 5 boys in my class. We all stood around in a small group on the steps of the building. A short time later, the girl with Doc Martins walked outside and stood by the door for a moment. She looked at me and I looked at her. I turned to talk to some of the guys introducing myself again and getting their names, when I noticed the girl was standing by the door still looking at me. She was holding a cigarette in her hand.
“Do you have a light?” She says.
“Yes I do.” I told her. We met each other half way and I lit her cigarette for her. We stood there looking at each other for few seconds while we smoked our cigarettes.
“My name is Nico.” She said.
“I am Kim.” I answered back. There was something very familiar about the way standing next to her made me feel. I was transfixed by her and the way I felt next to her. We sat near each other when break was over and talked some more about where I was from. She seemed genuinely interested in me. I felt as if someone just hit me over the head with a notebook.
Later that day after the break for lunch, we met in another building uptown in the west village a short distance away in a building called the Kampo Culture Center. I ate lunch by myself because after that intense first part of the day I needed to take a walk by myself to process everything that had just happened.
The second half of the day was spent talking about the lecture part of our 2 month program. I was stoked when Nico and I were put in the same half of the class. After we got that list, she asked me if I wanted to be in the smaller group with her. I said “yes of course.” Then there was another girl a bit older than I and obviously bi-curious that asked Nico to be in her group. In over hearing this I said-“You’re not going to leave me are you?”
“No.” she said and she kindly told the other girl that she all ready belonged to another group. I was so glad I spoke up at that moment. Something inside of me just could not help it. There was no way I was losing the opportunity to work with a girl that made me feel like superman when I stood next to her.
Towards the end of the day we were given our schedule for the rest of the week. The second day of class we were to learn how to load and use the 16mm black and white Bolex cameras that we were going to use to make all 4 of our films. After class I walked a bit with Nico to the subway. I told her that I lived at 103rd Street and took the 1/9. She happened to live off of the 1/9 also on 22nd street between 7th and 8th avenue but that she did not like taking the subways all that much. When we arrived at the subway I said goodbye and told her that I was stoked to start making films. She agreed with me and told me that she would see me tomorrow. I waved good bye as I descended the steps to the 1/9 uptown train.
When I got home I was astonished about what had happened that day. Everything was perfect and I found Nico entering my thoughts often that night. I could not wait to go to class. I was so excited I could hardly sleep; masturbating had always helped me with that but this night all I could do was stare at the ceiling as the lights from the street danced with the shadows on my walls while my stereo played soft, dark music. I finally fell asleep late into the night. I was really tired the next day and I almost over slept.
The second day of classes was really fun. In our 4 person groups we got together and learned how to load the camera and film with them. I understood that camera right away. That afternoon we were to go out with our 4 person group and shoot a five minute scene. Nico and I definitely wanted to go with an urban feeling to the shoot, so we found an empty lot in soho and did some taping. At first we took turns with the camera. When it was Nico’s turn, she had me walk across the street and then film me walking for about a block down the other side if the street. While I was waiting for them to set up the shot, somebody drove up in their car and asked if she could take a picture of me. I noticed that Nico was watching me and was very interested in the little punk rock girl that was being asked by a stranger for their photograph. Maybe it was my green hair and my look, but that photographer was definitely a professional and she saw something in me that I had been fighting for my whole life. After we finished Nico’s contribution to the scene I walked back across the street and joined the rest of the group.
“What was that all about?” Nico asked me.
“Some lady wanted to take my picture. She had a real nice professional set up.” I answered.
“Wow.” She said, “You’re famous.”
I laughed-“Not yet, but soon I hope.”
When it was my time to use the camera I taped Nico standing against a wall as I panned the shot to the left into the empty lot. I could tell that she was impressed by my camera angles and the ease at which I could pull the focus and set up the shot. Being a cameraman had always been my specialty in high school. I use to video tape Jeremy and his friends skateboarding all the time. I also belonged to the Audio Visual club in high school, but what film geek wasn’t in AV in high school.
The more Nico and I worked together, the better I felt. She also smelled amazing. One day when we were walking together after school, we went into the Bodyshoppe and she showed me what she wore. An essential oil called White Musk. She must of known somewhere in her mind that I was obsessed with the way she smelled because without me saying a word she led me into the store and showed me. All I had to do was breath around her and I felt fucking amazing. For the first week or so I craved her scent. It put me at ease. I have never since that time been attracted to someone’s scent like I was hers. It intoxicated me. I secretly was falling in love with her. I started to become depressed when she wasn’t around and I could not bask in the glory of the pheromones she was giving off, mixed with the scent of the white musk, she completely drove me to the brink of ecstasy just standing next to me. I felt myself falling really hard for this girl. I had not even been in New York City for two weeks and all ready I had met the woman of my dreams, the person I had pined for my whole life. This also scared the shit out of me because I was very inexperienced in matters of the heart. I had been in love with Jeremy, but it was nothing like this.
The next week was spent in class learning film theory and arranging the schedule for the first of our 4 films to be shot. The first assignment was a 3 minute film in one shot. Each person in the group rotated between jobs. One day I would do lighting, the next day camera, the next day I would be a grip/gaffer and then finally as the director of my own 3 minute film.
Nico and I started spending lunch together and walking home together after school. One day we were learning about lighting and we had to shoot a practice scene in this room with a doctors table and a bunch of couches. Our group decided to do a little fatal attraction, S and M scene, with me as the jealous partner and Nico as the one I go over the edge for. The scene basically went like this-I walk in on Nico and some guy making love on this table. I get jealous and fight the guy, he ends up taking a knife out, stabbing me in the chest and the scene ended with me dying on the table as Nico cried over my dead body. How we ever came up with this idea I will never know but since I was all ready in love with Nico, playing the scene was easy.
There were a lot of little scenes that our group shot that ended up with Nico in my arms or me in hers. When I had her in my arms, I wanted to kiss her so bad and if we were not in class I probably would have. The sexual tension between us was now becoming apparent to both of us and to the other 2 guys in our group.
It wasn’t until I decided to shoot my first film on St. Marks Place that things started to get really deep between us.

The Secret Government

Important video for people that care what is happening in our world. Learn to love yourself and everyone else unconditionally to fight the New World Order. Get informed-it is the first step to changing our reality on the planet to one of love instead of hate, creative trade instead of greed, abundance instead of lack. One way or another, everything will be ok and everyone will be back with the person that they love in this lifetime or the next. May your self realization come sooner rather than later.

Peace be with you.
I pray that everyone gets informed on what is going on behind the scenes at the highest levels in gov't and all the industries that affect our daily lives. Our world has been hijacked by criminals. It is time we took our power back. Stop giving your power away to the TV or your boy friend or that bottle of booze or that bag of salty potato chips or your girl friend or sex or money or drugs....it's time we truly took our power back and became the gods that we are.

Anarchy and peace = Harmony

I Can Dream About You.

Here are the lyrics to one of my favorite songs as a kid. Low and behold the original version was done by Dan Hartman but it was re-done by the musicians that the song was originally written for and that band is Hall and Oates.

I actually took dancing lessons as a kid in Jr. High. My parents forced me and believe me those tapes are never getting out to the public, but one song I danced too in the recital was the Dan Hartman version of this song.



Lyrics.

No more trying
To hold someone close to my life
It's time for finding
Some way to get through my sleepless nights

I can dream about you
If I can't ho Id you tonight I can dream about you
Maybe that will make it all right
All right

Moving sidewalks
Uneven under my feet
My true feelings
Down deep below
'Cause the streets see me lonely for you
Just for you

I can dream about you
In my dreams we're still happy
And you're still part of me
I can dream about you
And when you're in my mind's eye
You're a sweet memory, memory

Baby, I'm dreaming
(I can dream about you)
Dreaming, oh
I can dream about you
Oh, maybe that will make it all right
All right, all right

I can dream about you


Hall and Oates version is on their album from 2004 called "Our Kind of Soul".
Here they are doing the song live, but the album version is a lot better.



I really find it interesting that all the songs I loved as a kid directly relate to my life now.

Seriously that is cool.

What my life is about so far.

What my life is about so far.
Current mood: melancholy
Category: Life

For anyone that knows me and has known me for a while, it is obvious that I am never not alone. Most people that know me have never even known me to have any kind of relationship with anyone besides just friends. There is a reason for this and that reason is deeply connected to other lifetimes. If it was not for my belief in reincarnation and my visions of other lifetimes, I would not be alive. I could not have made it through the intense pain that I have gone through and still to this day go through. I have just learned to channel the pain into love because anger is just hidden pain and pain is just hidden love. When it comes right down to it my pain is just the result of the circumstances that surround an intense love. Those circumstances include many regrets and youthful indiscretions. The subject of which I am trying write a book about but reliving this pain is very hard because it still effects me intensely after 14 years. I have always had a feeling that my success lies in the publishing of this work. It better have for the amount of suffering it is taking to put all my notes and chapters together. My main goal of the book is too make a movie out of it. Although most writers probably want this, for me it is something that has to happen-I will work towards this goal until the day I die, but pain holds me back from finishing it. It is a double edged sword, everyone has to suffer for their art.

For the first time since I moved to Seattle I am going to be honest about why I moved here. I moved to Seattle to get as far away as I could from New York City and the person that plagues my heart. But I should of known that it was not going to work, as a matter of fact, it made it worse. If only I had listened to my inner voice a week before I moved because that little voice told me to wait. I didn't listen because everything had all ready been set in motion and I was too embarrassed and dumb to back down from my plan of evasion. Big mistake.

Now Seattle has not been all that bad, just not all that good. There are many things that I accomplished that I would not have accomplished in Connecticut, but that one reason I ran away was now hurting me more than ever. If only I could see divine mother's plan for me but all I can see is the love in my heart that will not let me be. This is what happens when you are with the same person over 1000's and 1000's of lifetimes. Maybe that is why they say-"Diversify your profile". I put all my eggs in one basket. For all you new souls out there, take my advice and diversify your love life.

Pray that you never have to feel this way. Be blessed with a new soul because us old souls die the hardest. To thine own self be true.

I know that many of you here in the NW are younger souls and this is why we do not hit it off very good. I could go on bashing the hardcore scene here for days, but I forgive and forget your nastiness. I have bigger shits to take. There is only one person that I love more than myself-only one. I love myself...a lot and that means I love this person even more. You can only imagine the pain I go through everyday. Why do you think I am not so fun to be around. I always just want to wear a frown and believe me it is not at all fun being eternally sad. I know that suicide is not the answer and drugs only make me feel better for a moment. There is no magic wand to take away my frown.

The truth shall set you free, only after it causes you an awful lot of pain. There are patches of enlightenment that get me through the day, but not until the karma of my pain is resolved, will I find true self realization and enlightenment. I await that day.

Peace be with you.
kimpunkrock

Manhatten Video Tape--the first few pages.

Here are the first few pages of the novel I have been working on for 14 plus years. It is finally being put together.

Enjoy!


----------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Chapter 1

January 1992. I am a student at the University of Connecticut. I came here during the fall of 1990 to play Division 1 field hockey but things did not go as planned. My grades sucked, I had no real friends, just a bunch of back stabbing jocks from the field hockey team that liked me about as far as they could throw me. I was different than the rest of team; to them I was just some weird punk rock chic. During the early 90’s, punk had not hit the mainstream yet and anyone that identified with that culture was very misunderstood. I was not welcomed in as a part of their inner field hockey circle, but when it came down to being hazed, I was the first on their list.
The University of CT at this time was known as one of the biggest party schools in the nation. Actually I think it was rated number 3 on the list. I had been a drinker in high school, but I had not done any drugs at all except for alcohol. Pot had not hit the small town I was from yet. The Field Hockey team was known for being a bunch of drunken jocks that threw some of the best parties on campus. The only reason I was invited to these parties was because the team wanted to haze me and boy did they ever.
I was forced to drink pitcher of beer after pitcher of beer during any one of the many drinking games the team partook in. When I was so drunk I could not walk, I was beaten up, thrown around, slapped, made fun of and made to walk home from the parties that were off campus. When I think about it now I am amazed that I made it back to my dorm room at all after these off campus parties, no one had any respect for me, least of all myself.
After a few years of this, my grades suffered and because I was put on academic probation I was kicked off of the team. If I had been a starter or someone important on the varsity team, they would have hired me some tutors but I was nothing but the 3rd string practice Goalie that did not even get to travel with the team half of the time. Nothing was working out as I planned.
After I was kicked off of the team, none of the friends that I had from the team wanted anything to do with me, not that it mattered anyway none of these people were real friends of mine anyway. At this time I was starting to question my sexuality. Most of the team was either gay or in the closet. During practice, people would ride by in their cars and yell “DYKES!” at us out of their windows. I was the first among my circle of friends on the team that came out. I admitted to them that I was probably bi-sexual and it was after I made this announcement that they really wanted nothing to do with me. If I had said I was gay, they would have accepted me, but because I said I was bi-sexual I got the cold shoulder. They thought it was gross that I could not make up my mind. The funniest thing about this whole situation was that all 3 of them years later came out as being gay and apologized to me.
During the winter break of 91/92 I had gone to my first gay bar. Even though I had a miserable time at every gay bar I had gone to, I was still satisfied that I was able to finally come out of the closet. But I knew right then that I did not really fit in the gay scene at all, mostly due to the fact that I was a punk rocker and most gay people in CT were not.
With my new found sexual freedom I became very rebellious. I shaved my head, moved out of the dorms and started smoking cigarettes. There was no more field hockey and no more fucked up friends. It was also at this time that my childhood and hometown rival died. Her name was Tara Wymes and she was a punk rock legend.
Tara was a film student at SUNY Purchase when she died during the shooting of a student film. No one really knows what happened. She and a buddy were in a rowboat off of the Hamptons in Long Island New York when somehow the boat capsized. Her body and that of her friend, washed up to shore 3 days later.
Tara and I never really got along. Even though we tried to be friends many times, we could not get over the rivalry that was between us. Both of us wanted to be actors and were always in competition for parts in school plays. She was smarter than me back then and the only class we shared was Drama. It was our passion.
In high school we got into our first fist fight in the bathroom during a school dance. It was a fight over a guy, her first fuck and my best friend that I was completely in love with. His name was Jeremy Lamb. He was a skater boy who turned me onto hardcore music at the age of 15. He was my passion. I never wanted to fight her but she started it. She blamed me for the reasons that Jeremy hated her, when actually he hated her way more after the fight then he ever did before. I was his best friend and even though I lost the physical part of the fight-I won his favor.
After the fight I barely saw her. We had gone to different high schools, she went to Taft private school and I was forced to go to the public school that my mom taught at. After high school, I saw her a handful of times. It was at these times when we started to become friends. I really wanted to be her friend but it felt like we were in a century long feud. We both wanted the same things out of life. It was during one of these times that she mentioned that I had no idea who I was yet and boy was she right. When she died, almost instantaneously I knew who I was, who I had wanted to be, who I could be and what I wanted out of life. I had to get out of UCONN, without field hockey there was nothing there for me.
So I decided to leave CT to follow my dreams of being a film maker and actor. This dream had been with me since I was 2 or 3 years old. It never left me, I had just forgotten about it through the lack of support my parents showed me. Tara had now become an angel guiding me. This meant more to me than anything in the world.
My last semester at UCONN glided by, I had made some new friends that were also gay. It was through them that I started to smoke pot and it was also through them that I met my first girlfriend. Her name was Jennifer Edwards but everyone called her J for short. I had met her through my friend Amy’s girlfriend Reebok. Reebok had come to CT from North Carolina to visit Amy and it was my bright idea to take a road trip with my car to get her back to NC. What a long and fun trip it was. 15 hours each way. There were three of us-Amy, Reebok and myself. They had sex in my backseat as we drove over the George Washington Bridge. I wished I knew then what a sign that was because a year later I would be living in New York City.
When we arrived in Wilmington the next morning it was a non stop party with alcohol and pot. J was Reebok’s best friend and a student at UNCW. She was also a writer, a pot head and a struggling codeine addict. Later that night we hooked up and I officially had my first girl friend.
Leaving Wilmington was hard, we exchanged numbers and I promised to call. I went back to CT with a renewed sense of purpose. J and I talked on the phone a lot. The next weekend we headed down to NC again to see our girlfriends. It was that weekend where I had my first girl on girl sex. It was a fantastic weekend and she taught me to smoke pot out of a water bong. I have to laugh now as I remember how long it took me to be able to get a hit off of that thing.
We drove down to NC a lot and sometimes those 15 hour trips were bad. One time one of my tires went bald and I had to get a new one although I had no money at all so I wrote a bad check. One time over the Delaware Bridge riding over the Potomac River there was such a bad ice storm that I could hardly see at all. I was scared shitless driving through that and the same thing happened on the way back through New Jersey. I believe it was our prayers to Our Lady of the Highways that got us through some of those trips.
The last weekend we went down there I caught J having sex with some fat chic and that was it. My first relationship with a girl lasted about 2 months. I cried when she dumped me. It was after this that my parents started to figure out what was going on. My sister had asked me if I was gay and I told her that I was bi-sexual. She instantly told my parents and was the golden girl from then on. I regretted ever telling her the truth. My sister had viciously stabbed me in the back to get in good with my parents. My parents were very homophobic and my life was hell from then on.
My pot smoking and partying got heavy from that moment on. I was never without a bag of pot. My friends and I got caught smoking weed in their dorm room and we all got in trouble even though they never found any pot. For some reason I had a sixth sense and put the bag away right before they knocked on my friends door. It was my bag anyway. We all got personal probation and because I was all ready on academic probation-I was kicked out of UCONN and not only was I kicked out of their main branch of campus; I was barred from ever going to any other branch of UCONN.
That summer at my parent’s house was hell because of my sexuality. I spent the entire summer smoking weed, drinking alcohol, riding around in my car listening to punk, hardcore and grunge. 1992 was a great year for music. Pearl Jam, Nirvana and Soundgarden were now main stream and I loved it.
There was some serious partying going on that summer and I was becoming known for a huge pot head. It was the summer of 92’that I met Dallas Campbell, Tara’s ex-boyfriend from London, England. We became great friends and eventually I went to London to hang out with him. It was there that I had gotten my first leather jacket and my nose pierced. I also became best friends with Chris Verdosci, another one of Tara’s closest friends. He had also come out of the closet so we had a lot in common being 2 of the only out gay people in the small town where we were from. He was my buddy and we complimented each other greatly. A pattern was emerging where I was becoming good friends with all of these people that were important to Tara. But it was one person in particular that had the most effect on me. Her name was Deidre and after I met her I would never be the same.
It happened on a Saturday night. Deidre was visiting with Tara’s parents and it was my task to show her a good time, so of course we got some booze and went to a party that some older kids were having. Deidre was a beautiful short punk rock, gothic type chic with black hair, brown eyes and cool clothes. She started kissing me, to my surprise, and instantly I fell in love with her. She captured my soul and dressed me up with poetry and punk. I learned a lot from her in a short period of time. I had become obsessed and when she blew me off for some guy a few months later I was crushed. Before this disappointment, she had given me this sweet bomber jacket that she had made from pieces of other bomber jackets. I wore this jacket every day for months. It became a symbol of freedom for me. I was unable to dress punk as a kid because of my mother, so I played the role of the jock for my mom until I left UCONN. Now my mom had no say in what I wore any more. My hair was now dyed green; I had a nose ring and was now officially the person I always wanted to be, on the outside at least.
I played on my mother’s fears for all they were worth. When I wanted to go to London to visit Dallas, they gave me money and bought my ticket-anything to get me out of the house. It was the fall of 1992. Dallas and I had a blast. We smoked hash and drank Guinness. I loved London, I felt at home there. On the streets, people actually asked me for directions! I ate fish and chips, bought my first motorcycle jacket and it was here that I wrote the first poem I had written in years. It was called-“Sitting in a London Pub”.

Sitting in a London Pub,
Reflecting upon my life
As my sorrows and dreams
Come rushing upon me.

You are not here with me,
I sit alone,
But thinking of you,
Makes the Guinness go down easier.

A scorned woman sings from the juke.
I am not a duke.
Pool table calls
And I shall beat them all.

It was in this same pub that Dallas and I sang Jane’s Addiction songs during an open mic. We met a few girls there also, it seemed like everyone in London was bi-sexual. But I was still hung up on Deidre and wanted nothing to do with these girls, much to the chagrin of Dallas. We got drunk and stoned almost every night I was there. We had talked about going to a rave and experimenting with other drugs but we never had a chance. Dallas was pretty broke and considering that the dollar lost to the pound- I didn’t have enough money to pay for both of us.
Dallas I had long talks about Tara and heroin. We both wanted to try it but did not have the nerve. He played the guitar and we sang sad songs all day. He gave me this now famous picture of him and Tara when she was at Taft. He also had a pair of army pants that Jeremy had given Tara. Boy did I want them but he would not part with them and I totally understood why. Tara was gone and he loved her very much.
When it was time for me to leave, he asked me to stay and find a job. Even though I really wanted to, my parents had paid for 2 classes at Northwestern Community College and I had to get back and finish them, although I only ended up finishing one of them. I wished I had stayed. On the way to America, I was able to smuggle some hash in my Drum tobacco, which I smoked with my friends in CT the day after I returned. My mother almost died when she picked me up at the airport and my nose was pierced. I was bombarded with insults from my mom during the trip from the airport to home. My friends were stoked about it. I felt very industrial with a piece of metal in my nose.
One day a few weeks after returning from London, my best friend Rena and I decided to take a ride into New York City. The first place she took me was to St. Marks Place where all the punks were at. I felt at home there. I had bought an earring of the Anarchy symbol because my life was all about anarchy. Little did I know at the time that everything was going to change. I knew that the East Village was where I belonged and where I needed to be. So I looked for a way out of CT.
About a week later I was reading the Village Voice when I saw an advertisement for the New York Film Academy. It was a two month intensive program in which you got to make four 16 mm films in two months instead of going through bullshit college classes. It cost around 3500 dollars, about the same amount as one semester at UCONN. When I pitched the idea to my parents, once again they were stoked, another thing that was going to get me out of the house. They asked me where I was going to live and I told them that I would find a place.
In order to get into the school you had to go through an interview. Chris Verdosci and I took a ride into NYC for my big interview. We got a little lost but I still made it in time for my interview. The building where the New York Film Academy was located was in Tribeca and was actually owned by Robert Deniro. This impressed the shit out of me.
The guy who interviewed me was named Steve. He was very nice and I was impressed with the school. This was a film school for spoiled kids that were rejects from other film schools. I had passed Steve’s part of the interview and had to meet with the director of the school who was this crazy, drunken, bearded, artsy looking guy. I think he was from Europe. He was really nice but I swear he was drunk. He liked me and I was approved to start on January 6th of 1993. They advised me to find student housing in the city. Rena actually helped me with that.
The place I found was located on 103rd ST. and Amsterdam Ave. The American Youth Hostel offered furnished rooms for students. A single cost $500 a month. The day I went to look at the place a few of my friends came with me. I really liked the place. There was always a lot of people, students from all sorts of different schools and backpackers from all over the world. I met with the manager and he showed me a certain room on the second floor. It was a single was the only single room with a balcony outside of the window. There was a desk with some drawers and a bed. I told him I would take it and filled out the appropriate forms. I was on my way. January 2nd 1993 was the day I was too be moving in. As soon as I got home to CT, I started packing my things. At this moment in time, life could not get any better than this.

Say it isnt so---reprise---

Here it is the infamously famous song in my life by Darryl Hall and John Oates, the best poprock duo of all time!

This is for you my past life love.



and also this one.....Adult Education.



and of course this one....She's Gone.



and one more for good measure....out of Touch.



Sorry can't help it...one more time...Method of Modern Love.



These videos crack me the fuck up.
Laugh..its funny.