Moving on..

A brilliant man named Erik Danielsson (occultist & front man of a band called Watain) had said something this past Saturday before his performance that has stuck to me like glue. 
''Every single day you wake up you are starting all over, every day that you live.'' 
This coming from a man I have great respect for spoke to me in a way that has never assimilated before.

I remember the day, April 25th in the year 2012 I walked into a room to discuss a typical accelerated
Heart rate. With my above average stressful lifestyle a fast heart rate is to be expected. Typical even.
If you have followed my multimedia rants, writings and sordid tales then you can see where this is going.....

I could compare this particular situation to shopping. Yes shopping. You walk into a new store, first time and you walk out with 3 bags full of things you do not need nor can you afford. Buyers regret?

My stroll into the new Heart specialists office, first time and I walk out with heart monitors, medications and a grip of test results in a big manila folder (4 hours later.) The bonus in the proverbial bag, A devastating diagnosis. Buyers regret.
This was one of those surreal situations that I can compare to a great song. You hear the lyrics but they also go in one ear and out the other. The rhythm sticks but you aren't sure what just happened but it moved you in some profound way. You go home and look up the lyrics...... now you know the meaning.

On this very day, April 25th 2012 my life changed and the information went in one ear and out the other.
I rush home best I can... well truth be told I sat down on the curb side with wires attached all over my body sobbing because I knew something happened but....... what.... I was told not to walk home, here I walk the residential streets of Beverly Hills wires and all, tears and all, calling my family spouting incoherent rambles.
Whatever I was staying to these select persons went in one ear and not out the other.
I now know that my words had come from my ever powerful subconscious.

For quite some time I had lived with a poorly but rapidly ticking time bomb in my chest.
If I could explain this to you in words, words that describes how you feel when a total stranger (you're paying money to) someone who knows only what you weigh, your height, your current medications and your new test results. Nothing more nothing less. How do you feel when the newest person in your life says
''you can die from this and at any point and time''.... oh and followed by ''medications will help, so will putting your career down, possibly for good.''
I ask.... while snortling and gushing facial fluids into a tiny tissue provided by said specialist ''What exactly does that mean?'' Die? Any time? Stop working?  and........ being ''monitored'' while living alone in a massively private gated suite. Nobody would find me. Nobody has access.

Well fuck me.

The most illuminating thing about all this at the time was having, at the very least a concrete reason for feeling like I am already dead. The living dead. I had been somewhere between coherent, emotionally available and
110 years old. Keep in mind that this was sudden. This feeling of looming death had struck in a matter of short weeks.

My materialistic and extravagant ways of being had now forced into becoming an austere being which basic survival was best fitted. Have I ever publicly complained about all my 17th/18th century furnishings I had to store as well sell? Doesn't do you well when you are relegated to sleeping on a 'raft', my cute name for an ever deflating inflatable mattress....

I remember a post I created on this very day in 2013. Lighthearted I suppose.
Living 3,000 miles from the dangers that lurked around the corner just two handfuls of months before.
So where does this bring us? It brings us 6,000 miles in a completely different direction.
So here I sit reflecting on the one thing I did not let flow out of the other ear two years back.....
''You need to put your career away indefinately or consider something else, it's in your best interest.''

Meanwhile this 6,000 miles away in Norway I am collecting images and writing for my arson of multimedia.
I am shooting and writing a book. I decided to pile on a few more tasks to the career I was once ready to abandon.





I amount of tests and medications Ive been gone through in the 2 years to this day eludes me completely.





I may never have a 'normal Heart function' and remember kids, this was brought on by an extreme lifestyle chocked with stress..... more like distress.
If you are doing what you love and following the current path your on....................
Nothing is going to stop you.
Nothing can stop you from growing.
Not will take you off this planet.










Today I congratulate myself.

.........SO IT'S BEEN A YEAR.

This week will one year since my father died. Dropped dead.
Now what makes this intriguing and pardon my callousness, he was the second individual to drop dead in his apartment. His second wife was the first.

Now for a little back story. My father was a raging alcoholic with a predilection for red meat, cheap beer,  Marborol Reds and gambling (I could go on). He smoked like a chimney and he drank like a champion. This was a man who has always lived beyond his means. Now this has taught me a lesson in which I would carry throughout my life, perhaps ill discuss that one later.

It's clear that you absorb the things you are exposed to in your early years ..... your behaviors and character mirror your  teacher. You are the pupil. It isn't until you are of the age of cognizance that your inner self melds with your teachings. You are aware. You must make your own decisions while your disciplinarians keep a watchful eye.

I have very few pleasant childhood memories regarding this man. As a small child I idolized this (at the time it seemed) tall, handsome, dark(er) skinned powerful and interesting man. Are you aware enough at a young age to know the difference between fact, reality and what you choose to see yourself? Are we spiritually aware? Are we flying on the wings of ignorance? Hell! I just wanted toys and to dance around the house in my tutu. Simple.

This brings us to the years of custody battle. Tumultuous and frightening.
When two people are fighting over you (and sibling) it puts all sorts of crazy things into your head.......
There were many years of supervised visits, required therapies and let us not forget the constant conversations about my feelings. Sure I was confused, frustrated and there was the manipulation (that's a story in and of itself.) I am fairly certain that my biggest concern at the time (I was about 6) was choosing between watching the Smurfs or Transformers. Having to decide what leotard to wear underneath my clothes to school (there was a well formed obsession here.) If you only knew.....

Something interesting recently happened and perhaps common place for a gal like myself.
A total stranger of a Norwegian man walks up to me and whispered into my ear. He he told me that he was ''going home to blow his brains out with his shotgun''. I kindly replied ''That sounds like a bad day.''
This reminded me of the time my father took me hunting. It had something to do with a slain deers head flopped over the windshield while blood swished back and forth as the broken window wipers fought the rain...... and blood.

It wasn't until I become a young adult that some reality started creeping, sinking in. I only felt confusion and anger towards (I'm fairly certain at the time I didn't know why) my life situation and emotions I had no control over. I wouldn't relive it again, not for several million dollars.

I never thought about my father once I reached Jr. high school. I slowly phased him out of my life (little did I know it was the reverse.) Figures.
Flash backwards to the above mention childhood years. Parents move to different States, distance becomes an issue (35 min drive.) In retrospect I had thought it was a matter of inconvenience for them only as an adult realizing (to my father) I had become objectified. Fair enough, this shaped some monumental decisions I would make later in life.

From what Ive gathered with what little socialization I had with other children, flying kites, doing puzzles, riding your Purple 'Aloha Huffy' bicycle and having sleepovers was what little girls did..... right?
When in my fathers company I did typical little girl stuff like...... taken to the movie theater to see Hellraiser, Nightmare on Elm Street, some arcade games (it was like his little version of gambling.)
Candy for dinner, antique hunting and scary stories before bed.

My older sister is the picture perfect example of well adjusted. Beautiful, talented, successful and well adjusted in every arena of her life. Perhaps being cut off from our father much earlier than myself plays some small role in her light hardheartedness. I'll never really know.

I remember two (of many) occasions where I was terrified to the bone of lightening and the ocean waves. My fathers cure for my chickenheartedness was both he and I standing in the middle of a field in the midst of a thunderstorm and then there was little me perched on his shoulders standing approx 6 feet deep in the ocean waves, for which seemed like an eternity.  Ill spare the details of learning how to swim.... and nearly drowning.

I have been told more times than I could possibly count that I look like my father, I have a temper like my father, I am humorous like my father (huh?) and lastly in so many words am free spirited like my father.

THE NIGHT I RECEIVED THE PHONE CALL
 ''Your father is dead."
 ''Uh ok... uh.... what the hell are you supposed to do in this situation?''
 '' Ill call my sister and let her know...''

So this is just before moving to Europe from the US, inconvenient and complicated this is.
I've heard it all.... '' even though he wasn't around... he is still your father.'' ''he loved you.''
''he didn't know any better.'' etc. etc. infinity.

My father had become excommunicated by myself and his entire estranged family.
A man who burned bridges seemingly without a match. Talk about survival skills.
And so entering the home of the man I haven't seen in over a decade not only to kick out his long term lover/caretaker, find homes for his tag sale treasures (in the trash) and the eviction of all the taxidermy.
Growing up our home looked like the Texas Chainsaw Massacre. No embellishment. We had scythes and what looked like torture devices (antique farm shit) at the time. He was very morbid, very strange indeed.

Life father like daughter.

I could write a book on the horrors of my childhood.
People like to say ''it wasn't that bad....''
What people?
People who aren't me.


On that night I celebrated with an entire bottle of expensive champagne.
On that night I felt free. Filled with only memories of amazing horror classics,
Heavy Metal, Classic Rock and a poor mans decadence.

I entered the mortuary and asked to see the (nearly 'past due date') body.
It was interesting because the black body bag was partially covered in a handmade quilt.

What did I see?
Years lost. Anger, discord, fear, loneliness and helplessness, ad nauseum....

Me? I felt light as a feather.

 

I wanna be a Ninja.

Ive always been a dreamer with my head high in the clouds. Such a dreamer that as a young person I would abandon reality for a walk in the proverbial park. Oh I was a terrible student until I was introduced to Metaphysics, Quantum Mechanics .... the typical 12 year old things and believe me I sucked and currently fail in math but I was broad-minded.

Science. Scholastics. Spiritualism. Religion. Belief systems.
I constantly asked ''what are we and why are we here" at the tender age of 8....12....16....21...34.
One of the only answers we cannot find solid evidence for, just personal beliefs that totally obscure the original timeless question. I would say that it's pretty daunting moving through life not being sure of why it exists in the first place. If you have a charming obsessive compulsive disposition (like myself) a small corner of your mind is filled with such triviality.
On second thought nothing is trivial.

When I was at that tender age of questioning everything (although I still do) I had decided to become a Ninja, Ballerina, Veterinarian or Artist. Becoming a Ninja was the most alluring and for many reasons.
I still get that spark in my eye when I see action/Kung-Fu films. Is it too late?
Becoming and Artist was second best.

Living out of necessity is to face certain death.

After a career of making other Artists successful (and rich) I decided to work on my Artistry in a professional manner, this included "working'' 7 days a week. Total meltdown. The lights went out one day.
It can be true what they say, ''When you do what you love for a living, you never work a day in your life''.
There is also a saying that I came up with, ''When you do what you love 7 days a week you can grow resentful  and uninspired.

You have 24 hours to dream, create, plan or ''work''. I have the emotional and artistic ability to combine the above mentioned and not go through the motions. Are you going through the motions everyday? Do you contemplate why you exist and how can you live a more fulfilling life?

I still fantasize about Ninjadom' and the closest I have gotten is some years of martial arts (breaking boards and peoples arms) and wearing all black. I like the Black.


“I may not look like much, but I'm an expert at pretending to be a ninja.”
-D. Jones, First Grave on the right

SWIMMING IN A SEA OF SHARKS

Its been over a year since I peeped into the online social media profile, the public display of an individual I had moved 3,000 miles for to dedicated years of my professional/personal life too.
Without the journey through this experience I would not have connected with hundreds of people that have effected my life in a multitude of ways albeit personally, professionally and spiritually. Although some of the connections have painful ties, most have been rewarding and life changing.

The level of stress I experienced due to keeping a handful of heavy heads above water on a daily basis had literally stolen years from my living a healthy life.
The insurmountable challenge of wellness do to stress related health conditions, brought on solely by my lack of ability to prioritize the care of myself before others, has been overcome without the use of tactical Psychic Vampirism, mass manipulation or the abuse of privilege.

This journey was a self discovered puzzle piece in a vast picture that is never ending.
I reflect on the years past and the sacrifices made. The most valuable lesson in all of this has been simple.
If you choose to swim in a sea of Sharks you must be a strong swimmer and trust no one. 
Sharks have one priority and that is in seeking blood. Seek and destroy.

You're either a strong swimmer moving amongst predators or you're Shark, a creature of destruction, master of manipulation and cunning with insidious means.

MY KINGDOM NORTH

Let me bring you into the world I have newly entered or rather thrown myself into.
For years Notes From The Dark Side have been about my adventures/misadventures all the while living in Los Angeles, New York City, small town Connecticut. The West Coast of Norway is where I currently reside and what a place it is.
This BLOG isn't terribly old so if you can imagine the rapid changes in my life, the innumerable months, days and years, I can barely keep up with my own thoughts ergo the anxiety of succinctly sharing my thoughts as well experiences has been daunting.

As per request my readers would like to have an insight into the personal remodeling of my life at this time.
It often crosses my mind what would I think if I read all of my own stories, rants and anecdotes through another persons consciousness. I often experience anxiety reading them back to myself.

Have you met anyone that wanted to view the world through your eyes? Even for a moment?
So often I put myself out there into the Universe and receive positive reviews, affirmations and conscious raising encouragement. Validation that my exemplary service to those who read for whichever reason they choose. With this being said, I shall bring to you stories of my journey through the Kingdom North, Norge.
For those of you who are newly coming into my personal microcosm, I can give you this insight:
This is Notes From the Dark Side, it may be conveyed as morose, depressive, disheartening or illumination , you decide.

Join me.....
 
Traveling to a Nordic country is a humbling experience for me as I am constantly comparing/contrasting and often with the feelings of utter crotchetiness. There is a laundry list of differences and for those seasoned in traveling to distant lands it may not be such a surprise, what I am about to divulge that is.

Being in a Christian country (forget about the recent separation from church and State - scoffs) it has its deep routes and those effect children, teens and adults in ways they don't even make connection to, it's simply extrapolated. This moves into a territory ill discuss another time but it has something to do with everything being shut down on Sundays, additionally purchasing wine/liquor from a Government sanction.... for a start.

So you're shit-faced after a night at the Rock N' Roll bar and its 4:30am. Time to hail a cab waiting just steps from the corner and you decide to strut into the Bodega to get a fresh veggi sandwich made by your favorite counter dude named Jose' whom you swear you would kiss because he knows exactly what you want every time you walk in the door, no matter the condition you are in. If you look extra cute Jose tosses in a bag of chips to top off the samich'.
A quick journey over the bridge or boulevard depending on which city you're in. BOOM! You are home and with money still in your pocket, (thank you Bartender for all the buy backs) armed with chips & an avocado/veg samich'.
Reality check: That was NYC. That was Hollywood.

So you're tipsy after a night at the Rock N' Roll bar and it's 1:15am. time to hail a taxi (Mercedes) and if you're lucky there sits one a several blocks away (Fhew! I didn't wear heels!)
There isn't a place to get a snack, nothing in sight although ive heard of these rogue Kebab stands (what wonders that does for a Veggi/Vegan) A long journey on the 'midnight' bus that costs quadruple that of a regular bus, should you choose this option depending on how much money you have pissed away in a few short hours (literally pissed) You stare at your iPhone bus app praying transport comes for you quickly......
 if you can read it correctly. SHIT! No bus after 12:30am.
Reality check: Cities of Norway.

 ''Fun'' is a relative term. What I consider fun is often writing what comes to mind while listening to some Medieval  Renaissance music with a glass of wine in tow. Often I consider sitting alone in a library amongst thousands of books in another language I can barely read.... fun. Listening to Vincent Price's rare audio catalog of  'Tales of Witchcraft' or his audio Edgar Allen Poe stories is fun.
Being alone is fun.

Being from New York City (my prime adult years) has gifted me with the ability to endure and flourish in chaos. When the atmosphere around you flows in some unhesitating order, albeit chaotic and slightly dangerous you develop supreme living skills. I find calmliness in disparagement.

Living in Hollywood (my innovational years) has brought me a knowledge of the human habitude (indigenous to LA or transplantdom.) As a professional Artist and Artist Manager it is clutch to inhabit the skills of a well-read social chameleon. ZING!!! I can employ such skills anywhere. Perhaps.

I have decided to Come to Norway, the King of the Scandinavian countries for several reasons.

-I almost died of Heart failure in 2012 and watched months wash away not forgetting my savings. Boo Hoo.
-A change of atmosphere (climate, barometric pressure, etc.) might be good for a gal who has had 3 surgeries (and counting) inside her face.
-Growing tired of the Hollywood Rock Stars who always stole my best black eyeliner and unsolicitly gifted me with sluttish 'clothes' to squire me about the Walk of Fame on a hot Friday night. [see above] imagine the deep connection there.
-A desperate need to collaborate with other creatives who live on the very same page as I do, the page that is often overlooked.
-The myth of the Viking culture is very well alive if you know where to look. Excellent for any super dork like myself.
- Did I mention that the most beautiful men reside here?


 OH! I am also shooting/writing a book of the underground/social Norwegian Black Metal culture.
 

I could write for days on this subject.
Keleigh Black in the Great Kingdom North.

I will continue to do so.

THE UNFOLDING

On this day exactly one year ago I collapsed at home, alone and somewhat frightened.
This little show had landed me a few blocks from home in the Beverly Hills, Cedar Sinai Hospital, I had my very own room for 5 days in the fancy Cardiac Ward no less (A frightful bill in which I have yet to open.) 
I had just lost an immediate family member that week as well the opportunity to attend the services.  I made that one faithful call and my travel shy Mother collected me in the hospital after re-routing her flight from the funeral. She stayed beside me for several nights and even cut my food once I was cleared for 'solids'.
and believe me I have silly photos for everything.

On this day 365 days later I sit staring out my window in the country, thousands of miles from Beverly Hills and its raining, thundering and the lightening is hammering down with purpose. Its always funny when you ask the Universe for infinite wisdom ..... or a just a little sign to affirm your private inquiries (those who you dare not share with others.) We went from crystal clear skies to fleeting torrential power, my inquires affirmed. 
I ponder what I have done in the past 365 days and I am sure I have gained some momentum along the way.
Could I have been more productive? Was it necessary to cast off handfuls of people I once had on my team?  Have I changed or influenced anybodies lives and most importantly has anyone changed mine....
Now these not so little things swirl over your head like a goddamn mini vortex and if you can become still enough in the right place.... answers come to you.

Three hundred and fifty days come to pass and I loose my Father. Three hundred and fifty plus days and I loose my Uncle. Three hundred and sixty days have arrived and I loose a friend.

I often wonder if my daily thoughts, emotional energy and intention were to be calculated and contained into a material object what would be the result. Atomic Bomb?
I often daydream about my thoughts, emotional energy, and intentions, I believe the physical manifestation might solve the little issue on world peace. I personally would like to materialize a mystical Unicorn.

I imagine myself with an old woven basket and I am collecting one thing for each day of my three hundred and sixty five day journey. I would certainly find apprehension looking on the bottom of the basket, also into the middle and I am unsure what is on the top because in reality I cannot tell one from the other.
365 days is just over 360 degrees so what has come to pass? What has come to fruition? Now I stand in the same place emotionally as I had this day last year.
I do not face the dangers I had then. I do not face the unknown as I have. I do not foresee the future as I hadn't then. 

In 365 days I had been seen by 17 medical professionals. In 365 days I have had over 60 medical tests completed. In 365 days I have accumulated a 6 figure number worth of superfluous medical bills.

At the end of the 365 days I have triumphed over and unraveled the riddle to my Heart.
At the end of the 365 days I have acquired more knowledge than the last year, throw in the one before that too. Here I sit planning the 1st day of the next three hundred and sixty four days.


Ehhh its just numbers.




What do you have in your basket?

LORDOSIS - BOW TO ME

ALL HAIL TO THE MIGHTY CERVICAL SPINE
THE ANATOMY OF OTHER MAMMALS IS INFERIOR
YOUR EXCESSIVE LORDOTIC CURVATURE IS ALSO 
CALLED HYPERLORDOSIS HOLLOW AND IS ..... HALLOW..
BOW TO ME..... BOW TO ME! 
LORDOSIS!
LORDOSIS!


(SHOULD BE A SONG NO?)

Years back I had the pleasure of working with one of my favorite Norwegian Black Metal bands SATYRICON.  It is always a big ol' bitch working with someone/thing you love/admire because of the added pressure to churn out something incredible that you love.  
Ill never forget that evening... I had an assistant with me who ive known for a decade plus who was keeping me and my equipment safe from the opening band of thrashers as it were. If I remember correctly, I was standing 20 feet away (minimally) from opening bands and getting slammed against.
The first and only time Ive worked in this venue, total disappointment mind you.... then again at the time I would have travel to the conflagrant depths of HELL to work with SATYRICON (now simply flying to the Mother North does the trick).

I was brought into this to capture live guitar and live singer with zero chance of stage shooting due to stage production/props [this is where I no longer work OFF STAGE or with very RARE exception] ...... (this is where I add the part about ''ITS FUCKING SATYRICON AND I WOULD BATTLE A SEA OF 4 HEADED SEA DRAGONS FROM THE MURKY DEPTHS OF SEA-HELL TO SHOOT THEM BACK THEN... AND NOW'')

Epic intro... bands starts.... HELL breaks loose.... Professional Photographer Keleigh Black gets killer shots of of of her favorite bands in for guitar company in.... 
*An action packed play by play:
MY TRIPLE' OF JACK DANIELS SPILLS EVERYWHERE::::: NOOOOOO!!!:::::I TURN LOOKING FOR 'ASSISTANT' (HOLDING GEAR OVER HEAD)::: I FEEL A LEAD-LIKE  KICK TO BACK OF THE HEAD/NECK:::: PUKED JACK DANIELS ON SELF::: MORE PHOTOS:::*FIST PUMP*::::PHOTOS::::PUKE:::::*HEADBANG*::::::PUKE:::::DONE!

Here comes the guitarist of KORN and girl friend to say hello (almost puked) ''gotta go dude!''
Here comes legendary photographer Dean Karr (who I was bringing home?) ''gotta go!''
"OMFG I am going to DIE Brian (Assistant)!"

This story takes us to the Emergency room in Beverly Hills the following day after puking up green BILE all night (not the amazing Industrial band of ex fiance) I thought it was from rocking my ass off and drinking all night??? Wrong..... wrong.

Forward several years past a major Sinus/Nose surgery and Heart failure/treatments (current)
I am dealing with serious neurological issues that started in my early twenties..... in the early years of my photography (pre above mentioned show).

After countless Xrays/MRI's/CTScans/blood work and physical therapy (ongoing) with at home traction therapy (lovely torture device that pulls my head away from my spine daily) I have a totally FUCKED UP CERVICAL SPINE.  

Therapists, Neurologist, Internist, Radiologists all asking me the same thing, ''when did you have a head and neck accident?''... "I did not EVER have an accident"...''what is your occupation and have you ever had an injury or been hit in the head/neck?" ... "tons of times..... but this ONE time...... BIG time!!!!''

DIAGNOSIS?
Severe Lordosis of the Cervical Spine with bulging C-5/C-7 disks with additional disintegration/disease of the disks.


RESULT:
Injury sustained by severe impact to the right/back side of the head and neck with extreme force.

All this is causing neurological issues, tingling and numbness in my right hand, fingers and I am on a number of medications used for seizure patients. Is this all from one Norwegian Black Metal concert? probably NOT.... years of shooting? im certain. Is the massive damage done from that one faithful night? ABSOFUCKINGLUTELY...... HAVE A LOOK DARLINGS.



                                              THE OPPOSITE OF A NORMAL SPINE

                                                        SATYR OF SATYRICON 2008

 


WATCH YOUR GOODS KIDS.......


http://www.sfexaminer.com/entertainment/music/2012/07/no-more-headbanging-mortal-slayer-frontman