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Please join me in my sexy, crazy, rational, irrational, and colorful paranormal life! To follow me, click on the follow button to the right and proceed as directed. I'm also on Twitter. You can find me @BeingBrice. For any questions for me or to contact any of the guest bloggers please email me at beingbrice@gmail.com

Wednesday, December 15, 2010

Press Release from Dodekapus' visit at Children's Healthcare of Atlanta




Picture: Brice and Adrian signing an honorary Dodekapus membership at Children's Healthcare of Atlanta.

- This is the press release from our visit to Children's Healthcare of Atlanta. There will be another blog posted soon, written by me, about our day there and hilarious moments that transpired from my friends and me.

Dodekapus throws "Art Party" with at Children's Healthcare of Atlanta with help from Sam Flax

On Thursday December 9, 2010, Dodekapus Art Collective took the trend of “art party” to a different level when they visited Children’s Healthcare of Atlanta (Egleston Children’s Health Care System and Scottish Rite Children’s Medical Center merged in 1998 forming Children’s Healthcare of Atlanta). With donations from Sam Flax, the members of Dodekapus were able to bring paints, canvases, and paper to the children so they could paint a dream-inspired piece for Dodekapus’ “I Can Dream All Day” show, set for February 5, 2011, and create pieces for themselves to take with them.

The room was covered with streamers of all colors, table decorations, coloring books, toy microphones, silly sunglasses, beaded necklaces, stickers, and arts and crafts. With over 20 kids present, their imaginations were able to run wild and laughter and excitement filled the room as the children learned that their pieces would be displayed and auctioned off at the Dodekapus show with all proceeds from the piece going straight back to their hospital.

As the day came to a close, Dodekapus rewarded each child with an honorary membership to their collective in the form of a certificate, and left with the promise of returning to host more art parties for the children in the future.

“Connecting with these children that are fighting such a big battle at such a young age is extremely inspiring. I’m blessed to have met them and to have shared good times with some whose good times may be more limited.”- Adrian of Dodekapus.

Some of the children at Children’s Healthcare of Atlanta are facing life-threatening diseases. With the funds raised by Dodekapus and other organizations, the city of Atlanta can take part in aiding medical research and growing resources for treating these brave children. And with charitable donations made by companies such as Sam Flax, these children are able to enjoy a break from their days stuck in their hospital rooms so they can be kids again, even if it is just for an hour.

To view the children’s work, to bid for a piece of the work, or to donate to Children’s Healthcare of Atlanta, please come the Dodekapus event on February 5, 2011, at the Relapse Warehouse at 1200 Permalume Place, Atlanta, GA, 30318. For more information, please go to the Dodekapus website at www.dodekapus.org.



Friday, November 19, 2010

The Holy Fire Part 3: The Man




Pictures from top to bottom: Adrian doing an ice sculpture for Atlanta's Imperial Opa
Brice and Adrian at Hijacking Music Festival
Adrian's wall at Living Walls in Eyedrum Gallery


“Soulmate, a term used to designate someone with whom one has a feeling of deep and natural affinity, love, intimacy, sexuality, and/or compatibility”
- Wikipedia

Or, as believed by many paranormal people, a soul who has traveled with you through many lives…

“It’s not knowing your friends have your back, it’s knowing you have theirs.”
- Green Street Hooligans


“Oh and Brice” Kelli said as she, too, got up from the fire. “There’s a man coming.”

“A man, like a boyfriend?” I asked.

“I… umm… don’t really know what the nature of your relationship will be. I don’t think that’s actually been decided yet, but this man will be very important to you and your journey. You’ll meet him soon. Maybe April? (Remember this all happened in February of 2010). But… you wont get close until August.”

“Ok,” I responded.

“But Brice… this person is really important to you. Take him seriously. Let him in. Your heart is a bit closed at the moment. Open it to him.”

In “The Alchemist” by Paulo Coelho, a young shepherd boy in Spain goes on a journey to find his personal treasure - a journey that in return becomes his personal legend. In a dream, the boy is told that his treasure lies in Egypt, at the foothills of the pyramids. So being young and courageous, this boy crosses the Mediterranean Sea, works for a crystal store in Morocco, crosses the Sahara, finds the woman of his dreams, gets robbed a few times, meets an alchemist, and finally gets to Egypt where he learns that his treasure was in his home country of Spain all along. Once he arrives back in Spain and finds his treasure, he looks to God in bewilderment. He questions God for God had sent him all over just to bring him right back to where he started. God in response says that God knows, then asks the boy, “But weren’t the pyramids beautiful…?”

In my 27 years on this earth, my journey has taken me all over the world. I went to school in England, traveled to Ireland, Scotland, Spain, France, the Pyrenees Mountains, swam in the Mediterranean, spent time in Zimbabwe, South Africa, the Bahamas, Jamaica, Australia, and finally ended up living in Los Angles before I decided to move to New York. It never once occurred to me that my personal treasure, like that of the young shepherd boy, was in my own backyard the whole time, and my move to New York would never happen. Sometimes I wonder what might have been if I had moved to New York or stayed in Los Angeles, and my heart fills with gratitude to the universe for putting me here, for putting me back home, in Atlanta, for giving me the people that have become so precious to me, my own little treasures. And sometimes I, like the boy, wonder why God sent me all over the world when all I needed was where I started in the first place, and I smile because, like the shepherd boy, I hear God say, “I know, but wasn’t it fun?” By leaving, I got to see things most 40 year olds haven’t seen, and by coming back, a changed woman, I can appreciate what or rather “who” was in my own home state all along.

Adrian is someone I wrote about in previous blog (Please see “War and Creation”). He is one of the many people I met during the month of April, through Dodekapus, but even though there was a weird and magnetic energy around him, our friendship didn’t pick up until August. We were always friendly toward each other, but it wasn’t until Living Walls that our relationship took a deeper turn, and the “Oh Shit! YOU’RE the man Kelli spoke of” hit my being like a ton of bricks. Honestly, Adrian was the last person I expected to be “him.” Adrian, was in fact, the last person I thought I would end up trusting completely and opening my heart up to in an almost, dare I say it, natural way.

Through my time in Dodekapus, many of my fellow collective members and friends asked me for readings, readings that I gladly did especially since these were the people who supported and loved me unconditionally. Most of my friends were always stunned by the accuracy of my readings, even though I told them over and over again that I wasn’t special; I could just see and hear things they could not. All of them seemed completely comfortable with what I am, well, all accept Adrian. Adrian always approached me in a guarded way, a way that is pretty uncommon amongst the Dodekapus family. It would frustrate me at times. No. It would piss me off more than anything. He was way more open with our other members. Why not me? Why was he so afraid of me? Why did he view me with such distrust? Why did he guard himself so closely around me? “Everyone likes me,” I would think to myself in a selfish way. Why doesn’t he? What did I do wrong? I assured him many times that I don’t read people unless I am asked to do so. I assured him that I believe in free will and personal space, and would never allow myself into someone else’s privacy unless he or she asked me to do so. He would just smile at me and walk away. Then, I thought maybe he thinks I’m crazy. Maybe he thinks I’m a fraud. I can’t fault him for that because what I am sometimes is too crazy for even me to handle, but no! He knew I had done readings for others. He knew I was the real deal from our mutual friend’s own mouths! My aggravation and frustration would spin in circles around my head until I found myself having to drink every time I was around him. Never once did I think we would ever be “close,” but I was completely wrong.

As the month of August approached, and the Living Walls Conference* grew closer, I, being Monica’s assistant, started working my ass off. It was nice. First of all, I was helping a good friend. Secondly, I was heavily involved in something I believed in, and thirdly, I could distract myself with work to get my mind off of this one person I saw all the time who apparently didn’t see me as a friend.

My first glimmer into our future friendship came at Dodekapus’ Carnival. As a collective, we had put together a carnival themed fundraiser for Living Walls. We worked long hours setting up at The Big House**, and when the night approached, my spirit tent was set up and ready to go. I got myself ready to do readings for the night, and as the night progressed, readings were ALL I did. You see, when I do readings it takes a fair amount of energy for me to channel for the person I’m reading for, and as time went by that evening, I had a line out the tent. I got to a point where I couldn’t think anymore, and was actually scared to drive home due to my lack of energy. Despite the line before me, I had to stop. I was completely drained. As I stumbled out of the tent, Adrian was the first person I saw. “Great!” I thought sarcastically as he walked up to me.

“You ok?” asked Adrian.

“Yeah, just a little drained. It takes so much for me to read. I can’t do anymore.”

“Yeah, you look exhausted. May I get you a beer or something?”

“No!” I shouted back, “That will make it worse.”

“You need to go home.”

I looked around at the massive amount of people at our carnival. “I can’t,” I said back with the pulling tug of responsibility to be there till the end. “We’ve got so much going on, and I’ve got so much stuff here. I can’t leave.”

“Brice,” Adrian said. “Go home. I’ll get your stuff for you. I promise. I’ll take care of it for you.”

I stood in silence for a second in utter shock that Adrian, of all people, was offering me a true act of unselfish friendship.

“Thank you,” I said to him and I quickly left the carnival before someone else asked me for a reading that I didn’t have the energy to do. The whole car ride home I was bewildered and replayed in my head the conversation with Adrian. Where did that come from? Why, all of a sudden was he willing to do something for me? Of course, I didn’t mind it. I liked it.

As the week of Living Walls rolled in, my days became longer and longer. In Georgia’s dreaded August heat, my mind, body, and soul lived at Eyedrum Gallery***. My days were spent sweating my ass off, helping Monica and the artists involved with anything I could possibly help with. The week moved along with everyone in Living Walls and myself living off of three hours of sleep a night, max. Adrian, there every night after work, would come straight to me and ask if I was ok, and one night in particular, with sweat stains all over me, make-up running down my face, my hair a hot mess, and stressed out of my mind (to the point of tears), I found myself running to him as he pulled up into the Eyedrum Gallery. As I raced to his car, I felt peace as he approached me. I vented to him about the latest Living Wall’s drama and fought the tears as they came close to pouring out all over my face.

“I hate seeing you this way,” Adrian said looking me dead in the eyes.

The world stopped for a moment. All the noise and the craziness around me went quiet. I looked back into his dark, engulfing eyes and sheepishly said, “What way?”

“This way! Stressed out!”

“Well, Monica is my friend, and, Adrian, I would do the same for you,” was my only, truly honest response.

“I know you would,” he said.

At that point, Adrian became a true friend. Always in communication with me, helping me whenever he could, I helping him whenever I could. He volunteered, willingly, to go to the airport with me at all hours of the night to pick up artists and guest speakers, and in one of my most favorite Living Walls memories, I got up at the crack of dawn with him to help him wheat paste**** his own wall in Eyedrum Gallery for the conference (after all, Adrian is an extremely talented artist).

Our friendship didn’t stop at Living Walls. We started hanging out more socially. Laughing together more and soon that guarded wall Adrian had around me vanished as if it had never even been there in the first place, but the magnetism around him still lingered. There was still something very different about Adrian. Something I couldn’t put my finger on. Energy I had never experienced with anyone, and yet, he was someone I had only known for a few months.

Around the Living Walls Conference, another weird thing started happening to me. I started having very precise past life visions. Having these visions isn’t weird, but seeing the person I recognized in these visions was. A while back, after learning that Indigos have lived many, many lives on earth, and after first accepting for myself that reincarnation is a possible reality, I asked my spirit guide, Louie, to show me what I needed to see. At first, this notion scared me. Did I really want to know what or who I was in the past? What if I did something awful? Heaven forbid, what if I was someone like Hitler or Jack the Ripper? That would devastate me. But no, everything I had seen in the past was neither scary nor too bad. Pretty normal. There is a difference between my past life visions and my future visions. In my future visions, sometimes I don’t really understand what’s being told to me. I mean, think about the guy who wrote Revelations. It’s taken scholars a long ass time to try to remotely understand what John was writing about because John, himself, could not understand his own visions, and even then, sometimes those scholars got it wrong. But in past life visions, what one does (something I’ve recently learned) is astro travel*****. By giving permission to your spirit guide, you’re taken back to a time of your existence. You feel everything. You feel the body you’re in (one different from the one you inhabit in this life). You feel the weather. You feel your clothes. You feel your emotions, and in that moment, you have no recollection of the person you are in 2010. Up until August, I’ve never recognized anyone from the past that is currently in my present life after being brought back to this life. Perhaps that’s because it wasn’t important for me to know who others were in past existence, but in August, I started to recognize Adrian.

At first, it pissed me off. I would get mad at my spirit guide (that happens a lot), and that anger would turn to pleading.

“Please, Louie, please take Adrian out of this. This is just confusing me,” I would say begging Louie for this small favor.

But the vision remained the same, and got even more in depth as my time spent in these visions grew longer and longer, and soon I gave in.

“Ok. I get it. I’ve known the guy for a long time. That’s fine, but he’ll never know about this. This I’m taking to the grave,” I said, surrendering over my pride, and myself once more, to the spirit world. I couldn’t tell Adrian. Yeah, we had gotten close, but in our time together, we had never spoken of my abilities or of spirituality. I wasn’t about to roll up one day, and say to my now “finally” friend that we had actually known each other for a very long time. Even I know, that sounds completely crazy, and at the end of the day, if I’m anything, I’m most definitely prideful.

Little did I know, that was only the beginning, for a few weeks after Living Walls, my beautiful friend, and roommate (who reads cards as well), Jessy, did a reading for me, and in that reading the cards told me that Adrian and I had a journey, and the paranormal would play a major roll. In my frustration, I kept asking for clarification. I was mad. No!! In no way was I going to talk about this with him. I know what I am is weird to most. I know it scares people. I know it’s taboo, and I most certainly wasn’t going to go down that road with a friend it took so long to make. I asked the cards what the nature of my relationship was with Adrian. Who was he to me in this life, if we had known each other for so long? And all it told me was to wait and see… something my impatient self was not happy about. Keep in mind: no one at this point knew anything about my visions with Adrian. I pushed it all into the back of my head, and decided to do what I do best in any uncomfortable situation, paranormal or not, ignore it until it goes away…something that’s never worked, but I keep hoping that one day it will.

A few days after this reading, I spent the evening sitting on the floor of Adrian’s kitchen, fixing bicycles with him. If the truth be told, he was the one doing the fixing on both our bikes, as my only contribution was ordering the pizza we had for dinner (Actually, I think he called it in… I just picked it up). We sat there laughing, talking, watching YouTube videos on how to switch pedals (he took mine with the clips and I took his sans clips), talking about Dodekapus going nonprofit, and then it happened. HE asked me about paranormal experiences. I was speechless. Flabbergasted. I could feel all the color running out of my face. He went on to tell me about his own personal experiences with the paranormal - questions he had about knowing what was normal and what wasn’t. Once again, to my dismay, but really no surprise to me at all, the cards had been right.

That night, my response was slower than usual. That night, once again, I was shown that as much control that I THINK I have over my own life, there is a bigger force at work. At the end of the night, I told Adrian that I would work with him. I would help him in his journey. In the “Witch of Portobello (By Paulo Coelho),” a book Adrian lent me to read a while back, it says that “the only difference between a teacher and a student is one is less afraid than the other.” Seeing that, begrudgingly, I had to accept what I am a long time ago meant I was less afraid. And therefore, I would help Adrian conquer his own abilities, but I still wouldn’t dare tell him about our past lives…

…until the day of the East Atlanta Strut******, when after a few too many PBRs, it came out…

I didn’t tell him the details of our past lives together, and actually, I still haven’t told him exactly who we were or what happened. Let’s just say, I’m waiting for the “right moment” on that one. But I did, in my state of liquid courage, tell him that we had known each other for a long time, over 100 years. All I’ve told him is that in the lives I am aware of, we have always had close relationships, and never once did we betray each other, and if anything, I owe him. He was always my protector, and in this life, after knowing what I know, I will gladly be his. He didn’t seem surprised at all, and I eventually told him about my card reading with Kelli, and the forecast of his arrival in my present life, and as the days turned into months, I eventually put the crystal Kelli put into the palm of my hand back in February, into the palm of his.

Every time I give Adrian a little more information, I start out by saying, “I hope this doesn’t freak you out,” and he has assured me many times over that as far as the paranormal goes, nothing would freak him out.

One night, in meditation, I asked Louie why it took Adrian and me roughly 27 years to meet each other when we so clearly spent so many years together in the past. Time. That was his response. I needed time and he needed time to grow; to grow from our old lives into our new ones because our journey isn’t over. What is our journey exactly? Psshh, I haven’t the faintest idea. What will tomorrow bring for us? F*ck if I know. But, what I do know is back in April there was a man, a man who wasn’t that close to me, a man that was distant and guarded, a man that today, teaches me more about myself than I could dare to learn alone, and a man that, in August, I grew to love. A man that has a very special place in my heart, and not because he’s a man, but a being that I’ve been blessed to travel with in our journey through this thing called life. There isn’t a lot I wouldn’t do for Adrian. I would give him my right arm if I had to, and that’s saying a lot since I’m a writer, who’s right-handed, and therefore, I kind of need it to create. I will always support him in whatever adventure he takes in life, and if he succeeds, I will be there to celebrate with a 12 pack in hand, and if he fails I will be there with a shoulder to cry on, and again, with a 12 pack in hand. Like I said, I have no idea what kind of journey we have together, but it’s a little less scary knowing that someone else is right there with me. Someone just as stubborn as I, someone who cares about the same things I care about, and someone who by just being there has enriched my life in more ways than he knows.

On the morning of September 8, 2010, I received an email from Adrian. He had sent it at 6:30 AM. In the email he said, “I discovered this quote recently… thought you might like it. ‘Writing is like driving a car at night. You can only see as far as the headlights, but you make it the whole trip that way.’ –E.L. Doctorow, writer (b. 1931).” Adrian was right. I think about that quote daily when I sit down to write, but I don’t think it just applies to writers. I think it applies to life in general, and with people like Adrian, it’s not so bad only seeing as far as the headlights because the darkness that lies beyond the light is an exciting adventure just waiting to happen.

In the song, “Galileo” by the Indigo Girls, it says, “How long till my soul gets it right? Did any human being ever reach that kind of light?” And who knows? Maybe this go round, Adrian and I will get it right.

“Galileo”
By The Indigo Girls

Galileo’s head was on the block
The crime was looking up the truth
And as the bombshells of my daily fears explode
I try to trace them to my youth

And then you had to bring up reincarnation
Over a couple of beers the other night
And now I’m serving time for mistakes
Made my others in another lifetime

How long till my soul gets it right
Can any human being ever reach that kind of light
I call on the resting soul of Galileo
King of night vision, king of insight

And then I think about my fear of motion
Which I never could explain
Some other fool across the ocean
Must have crashed his little airplane

How long till my soul gets it right
Can any human being ever reach that kind of light
I call on the resting soul of Galileo
King of night vision, King of insight

I’m not making a joke, you know me
I take everything so seriously
If we wait for the time till our souls get it right
Then at least I know there’ll be no nuclear annihilation
In my lifetime, I’m still not right

I offer thanks to those before me
That’s all I’ve got to say
‘Cause maybe you squandered big bucks in your lifetime
Now I have to pay
But then again it feels like some sort of inspiration
To let the next life off the hook
But she’ll say,” Look what I had to overcome from my last life
I think I’ll write a book.”

How long till my soul gets it right
Can any human being ever reach the highest light
Except for Galileo God rest his soul
(Except for the resting soul of Galileo)
King of night vision, king of insight

How long
(Till my soul gets it right)
(Till we reach the highest light)
How long
(Till my soul gets it right)
(Till we reach the highest light)
How long


*Living Walls Conference - an event in Atlanta that happened in August of 2010, where street artists from all over the world were given walls throughout the city to put up murals. There was also a gallery show at Eyedrum and a lecture series on street art at Georgia Tech. Most of the work is still up around the city, including an 11-story wall in downtown Atlanta, done by the French artist, Remed. For more information on Living Walls or to see the walls, please go to: http://livingwallsconference.com

**The Big House - a house in Atlanta on Ponce De Leon that houses artists of different mediums, and is often used as an artist workspace.

***Eyedrum Gallery - a gallery and event space in Atlanta that also serves as a nonprofit organization. Many artists exhibit here regularly. For more information on Eyedrum, please go to: http://www.eyedrum.org

****Wheat Paste - an adhesive most commonly made from water and vegetable starch. It is used often by street artists who post paper art on city walls, and is also commonly used for paper mache.

*****Astro Travel - otherwise known as disembodiment or astro projection. It is commonly known to many as an “out of body experience,” where the soul literally leaves its physical body to travel through time or space in a metaphysical way. This is a very common ability even among those who aren’t paranormal. Many people claim to have memories of seeing themselves leave their sleeping bodies in the middle of the night.

******East Atlanta Strut - an annual event that happens in the East Atlanta Village. Historically, the strut started as a music festival, but now has evolved into a neighbor festival with tents, music, parades, and a yearly celebration of the East Atlanta culture.

For more information on Dodekapus please visit our website at www.dodekapus.org

Tuesday, November 2, 2010

The Holy Fire Part 2: Indigo



* "The Holy Fire Part 1: Michael" was written back in February 2010. To reference it, please see the February files.

"Indigo Children is pseudo-scientific label given to children who claimed to posses special, unusual and/or supernatural traits or abilities. This belief is based on New Age concepts developed in the 1970s by Nancy Ann Tappa. These beliefs range from their being the next stage in human evolution or possessing paranormal abilities such as telepathy to the belief that they are simply more empathic and creative than their peers." - Wikipedia


"Pardon" I asked as I looked from Kelli and Drew and back again.

"An Indigo" Kelli said again.

My ass burned as I shifted my body back and forth on the floor by the fire. My mind was racing. My emotions were exhausted. What was happening to me? Why don't I have a say in all this, and by the by, what the hell is an Indigo?

"I don't know what that... is" I said aloud to my dear friends.

"There is theory," Kelli said patiently as she gazed across her cards. She rose her head and looked into the fire. Jumping flames reflected in her irises as she gathered her thoughts to explain to me what she was talking about. "Have you ever heard of the 'Age of Aquarius'?" she asked Drew and me.

I looked down at my Aquarius tattoo on my lower, right arm. I got it few years earlier. I remembered the day I got the tattoo. I wanted it because it was my sign. I wanted it because tattoos are cool. I wanted it because I thought it would make me look like a badass. Now, I forget I even have it. Visions of hippies dancing through flowered fields raced through my thoughts. A generation of people that seemed so far off from my own generation (Generation X) that rocked out to bands like Nirvana and Metallica, and I giggled. "You mean like that song by the 5th Dimension?" I asked as I rubbed my tattoo with my left hand.

"Well, yeah... kind of..." Kelli said back.

"What? I was joking about the song, but seriously... what?"

Kelli continued with the "Indigo Theory" as she understood it. As most astrological calendars go, in January you have Capricorn, then by mid January you have Aquarius, then by mid February, Aquarius goes into Pisces, and so forth. I'm sure everyone is very well aware of his or her own sign, knowing what his or her good traits are, and knowing what his or her bad traits are. I'm sure all of us, at one point or another, have read our horoscopes (I on a daily basis), and have wondered if there really is any truth to this whole astrological thing or not. With the world's movement, instead of going from Capricorn to Aquarius to Pisces, etc, it goes backwards from Pisces to Aquarius to Capricorn. So as it stands now, we're in the Age of Pisces.

According to Astrologers, the Age of Pisces has been around for about 2000 years, and 2000 years ago, according to legend, a man named Jesus was born and scarified (let's face it, his death was oh so Pagan). Jesus, throughout history, has developed a fish sign. We've all seen them on the back of cars or on billboards at churches. Pisces= fish... or the Age of Fish. I don't want to give Jesus a bad wrap, nor am I trying to change anyone's mind on his or her own religious beliefs. In fact, I think Jesus was pretty rad guy. He was super hippie. He was radically rebellious, and honestly in my opinion, he was nothing like the way the church portrays him to have been today. But astrologically, the Age of Pisces is an age of the fundamentalism. Some dude, 2000 years or so ago taught the world not to judge. Healed the sick just by his touch (a common ability amongst paranormal people today). Walked on water (another ability some paranormals have today), and opened up a new type of spirituality that was never supposed to be a religion. A spirituality where mediums weren't banned from churches, but welcomed as someone with a gift from God. A spirituality that studied the stars like in astrology (remember, by reading the stars (astrology) Jesus' birth was predicted). A man that said anyone can have a relationship with God. A man that said no man was better than the other. He created a spirituality that introduced us to tarot cards, and understanding that God lived in all of us, and in being the case, we're more than just physical beings. But as the story goes, man got greedy, and if Jesus was alive today, I think he would take one look at the state of the church and say, "Sooo NOT what I meant, guys." Fundamentalism took over. The church became one of the most hateful institutions to ever exist on this earth. With the Age of Pisces, we got the crusades, we got the Salem Witch Trials, we got the Holocaust, we got people blowing up abortion clinics, and places like Westboro Baptist Church who send their people out to with signs of hate promising God's wraith. I believe it was John Adams who once said, "There are two ways to control a nation, one is by debt and the other is by the sword." Well, John, I think you forgot a third one. Religion. As the Age of Pisces moved on, Chirstanity has become the front runner to control the masses. Despite it all, there were good things to happen in this age, like the Industrial Revolution, but spiritually and emotionally, it's been a very draining 2000 years.

In this time period, a group of people were born. Some were as famous as Joan of Arc, others were born in a group like that of the Hippie Movement or "Flower Children". These are people who have challenged and continue to challenge the teaches of the church, and have personality very drastic to the mainstream. Most of these people you wont find in fraternity or sorority house. Most of these people will not be CEOs of companies. Most of these people have extreme paranormal abilities, and most of these people, as of today, were born in the late 1970s to the early 1980s. A lot of these people are artist, and a lot of these people are what the world considers "weird." These people lives scare most. These people are known as Indigos, and I, as my friend, Kelli, read from her cards, I am one of them. A fate I had no control over.

Indigos are more than likely the children who were once diagnosed with ADD/ADHD or other learning disabilities even though they have very high IQs. They were the kids that the teachers did not know what to do with since their understanding came from a spiritual place and not an earthbound place. They are extremely self confident, and have a greater understanding of right and wrong. They are warriors for peace. They don't mind pissing people off if they know that person's ideas are hurtful even if the person him or herself doesn't understand how hurtful his or her ideas are. They are the people who can talk to the dead, and therefore, help others grieve in their losses. They are people who have visions regularly. They are people who the church has cast aside, even though Indigos are notorious for have an extreme faith in God. They are people who have lived many lives on this earth (old souls), but still the earth is not their home for they tend to not have any longings or ties to places or houses they grew up in. Socially, these people tend to have a lot of friends and are always drawing people in, but are ok alone, for they never feel alone. They're very creative and often see the world in a big picture instead of focusing on the daily details, and as the Age of Pisces comes to an end, the Indigos will be the front leaders in ending fundamentalism. As it is written in many religious text (including the Bible), these people will gladly go to war to tear down the old ways so the next generation of Crystal Children can bring in the Age of Aquarius, and with the Age of Aquarius, there will be a proper understanding of God. There will be peace, and as the song says, we will "let the sunshine in..."

"Wait! What's a Crystal Child?" I asked Kelli as she finished up her story about Indigos.

"Good Lord, girl! You've got a lot to learn. We'll save that for another day. For now you just need to know you're an Indigo," Kelli said laughing.

To be honest, though, this prophecy scared me. It is true, I never wanted a boring life. The idea of living in small town with nothing to do but go to the country club and raise babies always made my stomach turn as a child. I always imagined I would live in a Pent House in New York with tons of designer labels, nice toys, tons of friends, even more boyfriends, and a great career with tons of fantastic things to do. And most of what I wanted, I, in turn got. At 27 I've lived all over the world. I've had beautiful things, lots of great friend, and yes, many boyfriends. My life has never been boring (especially since I see dead people), but what God or the Universe (same thing really since God isn't mortal) has in store for me is even beyond my wildest dreams. No, I (as everyone else) am not entirely mortal, but as an Indigo, I naturally, as if specifically designed in my DNA by a force greater than myself, live my days more immortal. The Greeks called people like me "demigods," the Bible calls people like me "prophets," and astrology calls me an "Indigo," but at the end of the day, I'm just me... a paranormal girl in a not so paranormal world living my life greater than myself. This life is not lived by choice or chance, but rather, by fate and destiny. People often ask me what my faith is, and to me, faith is something someone believes in even when he or she cannot see it. I know there is a greater purpose for the world because I SEE the spirits walking among us, so that's not my faith, but my truth. My faith lies in the theory that I, like others, am an Indigo, and we have a job to do in this world. My fear lives in my own unknown. I don't know what tomorrow will bring for me, but I know that my battles will be far greater than the common man, and yes that scares the shit out of me at times. But in my dark days of fear, I know I am protected. I know that with Michael on my side, no demon will ever do more than just scratch me and no death threat received via this blog will ever come close to hurting me.

I got up to start my drive back to Atlanta with the knowledge that Kelli would fill me in on the whole Crystal thing another day.

"Oh! And Brice," Kelli said as she too got up from the fire. "There's a man that's coming."

"A man, like a boyfriend?" I asked.

"I... umm.. don't really know what the nature of your relationship will be. I don't think that's actually been decided yet, but this man will be very important to you and your journey. You'll meet him soon. Maybe April? (Remember this all happened in February of 2010). But... you wont get close until August."

"Ok." I responded.

"But Brice... this person is really important to you. Take him seriously. Let him in. Your heart is a bit closed at the moment. Open it to him."

"I will," I said a little stumped as we all three walked to her back door.

"Oh... and I have something for you," Kelli said as pulled out a tinny crystal. She placed the crystal in the palm of my right and wrapped my fingers around it with her own, She held the crystal in my hand for a minute as she took a deep. "Write a book," she said with her eyes still closed.

I started to laugh. I always wanted to write a book, but I had buried that dream a long time ago. As writer, I thought my career would continue to lead me down the road of tele and screenplays. "About what?" I asked.

"You," she said smiling back at me.

As I drove back to Atlanta, I was extremely bewilder by everything. The day brought an angel named Michael, a prophecy about Indigos, the promise of some man, and the journey of writing a book. No, my life is nothing what I though it would be, and anything but boring.

So, the next time you hear the "The Age of Aquarius" on your oldies station, you, like me, will pay more attention to the words because maybe... just maybe... the 5th Dimension was on to something great.


*For more information about readings with Kelli please visit her website at www.mamakelli.com

**This blog is in no way intended to change anyone's way of believing. It is an account of all things that have happened to the writer of the blog and is not meant to upset anyone.

Sunday, October 31, 2010

The Witches Graveyard



"Let he among us without sin be the first to condemn La Vie Boheme"- Jonathan Larson, RENT.

Photographs by Matt Jones (Dodekapus)

In January of 2011, my art collective, Dodekapus, and I will be putting on an event. It is going to be called "I Can Dream All Day," and as the title explains, this is a dream based show. In our event, with all 12 mediums of art utilized, Dodekapus, along with other artist who have submitted work, will explore all notions dream inspired. There will be dreams of night and there will be dreams of day. There will dreams explained by science and dreams explained by metaphysical phenomenon. I, being a creative writer and a paranormal, wrote a proposal for nightmare. As a writer first and foremost, my proposal was meant to showcase a collective creative writing piece done by the writers in my collective, but as most collectives work, once an idea is put forth and the "collective" created brain of the group starts moving, one simple idea turns into a mammoth work of genius that only the intensely creative members Dodekapus could dare to conspire to create. This simple proposal for a creative writing piece ended up placing my friends (and fellow Dodekapus members) and I in a graveyard in Mabelton, Georgia, on a Tuesday afternoon in October of 2010. This graveyard is known by the residents of Mabelton as "The Witches Graveyard."

Not much is written about this graveyard. In fact, the only information I can find on the Internet is stories of fear and ghostly haunts when one enters the property. Tons of homemade videos of brave souls entering at night are posted all over You Tube, but the only thing seen in the all the footage is broken and dilapidated tombstones, and the only thing heard is the "What the f*ck was that..." of the person who has entered. As far as written stories, I have read accounts of people coming out of the graveyard with scratches (something I am all too familiar with) and bite marks on their bodies. People claim to hear tribal drums, and conversations that are not of a physical being. All and in all, from what I've read and from my own experiences, once one goes to the Withes Graveyard, one is not the same.

Since finding factual information about the people who were laid to rest in the graveyard is almost impossible, the events leading up to their deaths are all stories told by word of mouth. My friend, Melanka Joy, who grew up in Mableton shared with me the story as she knew it. It seems that a few centuries ago there was a little village in the Mableton area. As the story goes, the inhabitants of this area were deemed by neighboring villagers to be "witches." Being a "Christian" area, the fate of the witches was decided by the other villagers. They had to die. How they were executed, I do not know, but messages of violence and fear filled my mind when I was at the graveyard. Men, women, and children all lost their lives in a brutal way in the name of God. Their bodies were thrown together on a piece of property out in the middle of the woods, and if the person was lucky, he or she received a half ass tombstone placed in a haphazard way. Most of the tombstones there are illegible today, but from the ones I could read, most of the people were between the ages of 18-23 when death was brought upon them. Their story has since been lost in the mix of other witches stories, and perhaps overshadowed by the well-documented and publicized Salem Witch Trials that happened long before the Mableton massacre here in Georgia. Although many people who have visited this area have had horrific experiences, my friends and I faired differently when we were there.

Five of us, all local to the Little 5 Points and East Atlanta Village area of the city, met up on this said Tuesday afternoon at our local hangout/coffee shop, Java lords, before heading out to Mabelton. It had been decided at our last Dodekapus meeting that before we moved forward with the nightmare proposal I would go out to the graveyard to make sure it was spiritually safe to bring others out there. Four other people volunteered to go there with me. Trevor, Mel, Matt, Jessy, and I all grabbed our coffees (and a diet coke for me) before jumping in the car and heading OTP* for the day. The car ride was filled with laughter and music as we danced our way up i75. As the roads grew narrow and the trees appeared taller, the sound, the smells, and the energy of the city moved farther and farther away from us. We turned down many quiet roads, and eventually ended up at a dead end. Before us was the graveyard. Getting into the graveyard meant that we had to break in. We climbed through a hole in the fence, as so many had done before us, and came out on the land inhabited by the spirits of witches. As we entered one by one, the laughter dissipated and a sober, quiet energy resonated amongst my friends and me. Before us was an overgrown cemetery with tombstones that had been pushed over and tagged**. After being heavily involved in Living Walls, I have grown quite familiar with the rules of street art, and I know that tagging a historic area is a no no. I, too, personally feel that tagging a tombstone regardless of how long it's been there is completely disrespectful, and should never be done by anyone no matter how talented the street artist is or thinks he is. We all separated as we moved through the weeds in the graveyard. Matt and Trevor picked up some of the tombstones and tried to place them back in their upright positions. None of us were afraid, but all of us were sad. I saw a few spirits; one of a man and two of women. I could hear children's laughter. It seemed there was a friendly game of tag amongst the children in the graveyard. I turned to male spirit to start some form of channeling and conversation.

"We come in peace," I said.

"I know," he replied. "You're like us."

"Me?" I asked back.

"You and your friends. You're all like us," he said as he went away.

I held back my tears as the realization of what this man had said resonated through my bones. We were like those here who had been put to death. My friends and I are different from mainstream America. Of course it's pretty clear that if I had lived in those days with the abilities I have, I, too, would have slaughtered, but it never dawned on me that my friends would possibly be convicted as well. Were the people buried here actually witches in their day? I don't know. Or, perhaps, they were just people who lived life differently than what was considered normal. And does it really matter? Aren't we supposed to have freedom of religion in this country, anyway? For whatever reason, their lives scared people. Maybe they danced a little too much. Maybe they played their instruments a little too loud. Maybe they used the plants of the earth to create medicine to heal their sick. I looked around at the faces of friends. Friends that, with me, dance a little too much, and played their music a little too loud. Friends that, again, with me had roamed the streets of Atlanta in full body paint. A group of people that are happily different. Through my friend's eyes, I could see them paying their respects to the inhabitants of this land. Even though we live in time of freedom, that freedom still isn't free. No, villagers will never come to hang me, but since coming out as a paranormal, I have been banned from a church and I get my fair share of death threats. My friends, who live their lives as artists, have faced challenges as well because it's still, in a lot of ways, not OK to be different. We all said our goodbyes and soberly got back into the car. None of us had been scratched.

As it stands now, I am going through paperwork with the Cobb Country Police department. We're trying to get a permit to shoot on this land for our show. Some might accuse us of exploiting the story of this graveyard, but I beg to differ. We're bringing light to a group of people who unjustly lost their lives because they were different. There is no historic marker on this land. No groundskeeper. No one to wash away the spray paint, and I have made it my personal mission to see these people have the respect they deserve...

The funny thing is... graveyards are normally the last place you'll find a spirit (or ghost). Hell, would you want to hang out in a graveyard when you die? But this graveyard is special because the people who dwell have a story that needs to be told.


WARNING: This graveyard is heavily patrolled by the Cobb Country Police.


*OTP is a term used in Atlanta. It stands for Outside The Perimeter. The 285 freeway circles the city of Atlanta. When someone says they're going OTP they mean they are going outside of the 285 circle. The opposite is ITP or Inside The Perimeter.

**Tagging is associated with street art. A tag is a name or symbol meant to represent the artist that did the work.

For more information on Dodekapus or the upcoming Dodekapus show please visit our website at www.dodekapus.org. For question on where to send art or to get involved with Dodekapus please email us at dodekapus@gmail.com.

For more photos by Matt Jones please visit his Flicker at Kelsher891

IF ANYONE HAS ANY INFORMATION PERTAINING TO THE WITCHES GRAVEYARD PLEASE EMAIL ME AT briceelizabeth83@yahoo.com OR AT dodekapus@gmail.com

Tuesday, October 26, 2010

I Can Dream All Day!







In January of 2011, Dodekapus will be putting on its second show. If you're an artist and are interested in participating, please submit your work! We take in all mediums of art. You can contact us at dodekapus@gmail.com for more information.

Thanks! Can't wait to see your work!
Brice

Friday, July 30, 2010

War and Creation.





Pictures from top to bottom: Adrian, Lam, and Melanka Joy

"The opposite of war isn't peace but creation." -Jonathan Larson

One night in February I had vision. In this vision I saw lots of color, I heard lots of laughter, and felt lots of hug. In this vision I had a family, a family, not of blood, but of pure love and acceptance. I couldn't see their faces, but I could feel their energy….

Sometimes, in moments of solitude and quite, my mind will drift back to a year ago. To a time when I was heartbroken and scared; a moment in my life when I was convinced my journey on this earth would be spent alone with no one to trust and no one to love. This time last year, out of my own personal darkness, I decided to move. With sadness in my heart, I decided to start over again. Only one year ago, everything was different. Only one year ago, the people I have grown to love and cherish, were complete strangers to me. But as they say, a lot can happen in a year, and as I learned in my 12 month journey, if I let the universe do what it needs to do, nothing bad will happen and everything will be as it should. Twelve months of massive change in my life. Twelve months of massive growth, and only 12 months to find a massive amount of happiness, love, and family. Ironically the relationships that mean so much to me now, came in the form of an octopus with 12 tentacles called Dodekapus.

Dodekapus, an Atlanta based art collective consisting of artist in every medium, is a group of revolutionaries. With most of its members young people in his or her 20s, Dodekapus has become a resourceful family who laugh, love, and create. A peaceful group of bohemians who not only desire change, but work to make it happen. A group of young people, who in rejecting what society has taught them as truth, moved on from these said teachings to seek truth for themselves.

Within this group there are three people, three friends, three artist, with three stories of their own.

Adrian-

The first time I REMEMBER seeing Adrian, I was standing in line to go to the bathroom at the Dodekapus April 9th show. As I’ve since looked back at footage I recorded**(see below) at the show, I realize now that it actually was Adrian’s fault I had to wait for 20 minutes to use the bathroom in the first place, and seeing him while waiting for the bathroom was, in fact, NOT the first time I had laid eyes on him. While the sun was still up earlier that day, the show had started, and I arrived in Castleberry Hill, late. When I walked in, two men were doing a dance called Capoeira. Of course, me being ignorant to this type of dance, I pulled my flip out to record what I was seeing. They all had yellow shirts on, and Adrian, as I now realize, had a green bandanna wrapped around his head. Bongo drums, tambourines, and other instruments played beside the dancers as they did, what I would call a rather mystical yet somewhat gymnastic inspired form of movement. As the dance progressed, the beats of the drums intensified, and before I knew it, the spiritual world awakened. As I held my flip recorder, I felt the familiar feeling of spirits touching me. I could feel my hair tugged and my shirt pulled. Spirits or no spirits, I was not going to miss this show. So doing what any normal person would do to escape the reality of his or her own personal situation, I turned to Haley (who at that point was also experiencing paranormal pulls and tugs), and simply asked, “Where is the beer?” Haley grabbed my hand and escorted me to the corner of the room. Haley and her boyfriend had a cooler full. All three of us grabbed a can, popped them open, and drank… a lot. I had no intention of drinking at all that night, and if Adrian’s group had not danced, I would not have had to use the restroom. But to be honest, I’m glad they danced, I’m glad I drank, and I’m glad I stood in line to go to the bathroom.

While waiting, with the sharp and intense pain of a full bladder, I stood amongst strangers cursing myself for wearing my skinny jeans, and thus, feeling like if I didn’t pee soon, the button of jeans was going to snap right off. To distract myself from my misery I looked through the crowd to people watch. Directly in front of me stood a Latin looking, rather attractive man doing a live painting. This man had on a red tailcoat, the arms cut off, a red hat, and face paint. I watched as he drew this perfectly straight line across the canvas. Watching the intensity coming from him as he focused on his piece was a pleasure to see, and my focus was only broken when it was my turn to go to the bathroom. This man in the red coat, as it turned out, was Adrian.

A few weeks passed, and the memory of watching Adrian paint became just that, a memory. It wasn’t until a few meeting into my arrival in Dodekapus that I got to know Adrian, and realized who he was. After getting to know him I’ve learned that not only is Adrian a talented painter, he’s does amazing sculptures, dances, plays the guitar, plays the drums, and if I do say so myself, is an incredible writer. He is what one would call “A Jack of All Trades.” But not only is Adrian an amazing artist, not only is he Dodekapus’ Revolutionary leader, but he’s also a great man. One that opens his home to his Dodeka family all the time, one that always greets his companions with a hug, one with a great sense of humor, and one with a kind heart.

To my recollection, I’ve never told Adrian about the first time I saw him. I never thought it important to share, but I am thankful I got to see him work. I am thankful for this growing friendship, and most importantly, I am thankful for his presence in my life.

Lam-

I’ll absolutely NEVER forget the first time I saw Lam, but with Lam, I think that’s true with anyone who crosses his path. How could one forget him? At 5’3,” sharp, skinny, and lean, Lam walked into Java Lords on a Sunday morning in April with tight black pants on, a tight black shirt, and a wide rimmed black hat to block the sun. As a collective, we were going up to the main corner of Little 5 Points to feed the hungry. We weren’t just handing out food left, right, and center. In order for the hungry to eat, they had to either a) draw something on the sidewalk, or on paper provided by us b) play a musical instrument, again, provided by us or c) do some sort of performance art. As we all left Java Lords, and walked up Euclid to the main corner of L5Ps, I noticed that Lam was holding a scarf that wrapped around a deck of cards. Once in the courtyard, Lam sat down under a tree and unwrapped his cards. They were tarot cards. While everyone dispensed art supplies, and set up the food table, I watched as Lam, very quickly start reading the cards for people passing by. My curiosity about Lam grew as the day progressed. After finishing up a Tarot card reading for Haley, she told me that Lam was, also, in a burlesque troop with her. As the only drag burlesque performer in the group, “Lam with a B,” acts were always a huge success, and I looked forward to seeing him preform in the future.

A few days later, Haley and I wound up at a friend’s house for a small get together. We arrived a little late because Haley had just come back from a photo shoot with her burlesque troop. At the house, our friend had transformed his front living room into a fort, with sheets stapled to the walls and pillows lining the floor. Haley and I took our shoes off and climbed in through the manmade, tarp tunnel around the front door. We started talking and laughing with the others at the gathering, and after awhile it came out that I, like Haley, could communicate with the dead. Many people wanted me to do quick readings, and I agreed only if we could step outside, one at a time, so I could focus on the one person’s energy and not be interrupted by other energies in the space. Once outside, I started to read for people, but as I was finishing up one reading, I heard a click, click, click of high heels coming down the street. I turned around, and there was Lam in a beautiful silk dress with high heels, a wrap around his head, and in beautiful make up. Because he is in the same burlesque troop with Haley, he too had just arrived from a photo shoot, and he looked magnificent.

“I’m Lam,” he said, extending his hand to me once he got to the front door. Lam and I never formally met that Sunday in Little 5 Points.

“Brice. I’m Haley’s friend. Nice to meet you,” I said taking his hand.

Lam and I spoke outside about my gifts as a paranormal, and he told me about his gifts reading palms and Tarot cards.

“Who’s my spirit guide?” Lam asked me, as he pulled me over to the side. I read for Lam that night, and in return, he read my palm and cards for me.

In the grown up fort, in East Atlanta, Lam and I became friends. With our growing friendship, I’ve learned a lot about Lam. As a trained Operatic singer, Lam’s voice brings me tears at times. As a dancer, his moves on the dance floor make we want to take dancing lessons. As a drag burlesque queen and women’s study minor, his understanding of a woman’s fight in the world teaches me compassion and helps me feel less alone. Probably one of the best, most fun, and draining things Lam and I have done together is the Dodeka Spirit Tent. At any Dodekapus festival, with the loving support of our fellow collective members, there will be a tent set up with Lam, Haley, our Reiki guy Kregg, and me ready to do readings.

In reality though, the highlight of our friendship transpired in the men’s room at Estoria Bar one evening. After walking from a show on the beltline***(see below), I had to use the restroom (again). The line for the ladies room was very long, my friends suggested that I just go into the men’s room. I walked in. The other men in there looked at me funny, but pointed me to the stall. After sitting in the stall for a moment, the stage fright crept it. I left the bathroom, and saw Lam waiting for me outside.

“Did you go?” Lam asked.

“No! There were too many men in there. I got scared.”

“Come on, Baby,” Lam replied back. With that, Lam grabbed my hand and walked right into the bathroom stall with me. He held the door closed and talked to me as I went the bathroom leaving me with a memory I will never forget.

Lam and I will not only spend our lives laughing together, playing together, and creating together, but we will spend time, with Haley, growing together within the gifts the Universe gave us. It’s no coincidence that we met. It was no accident. I always laugh and say, “When our powers combine...” And no, Captain Planet does not arrive, but something does. A mystical force that the three us can’t even explain, and in a time of change and Revolution in the world, Lam is someone I am happy to call family and have by my side.

Melanka Joy-

“Girl! You don’t need a man,” were the first words Melanka ever said to me.

On an April evening, not too long after the Dodekapus April 9th show, Haley and I found ourselves sitting on sofa, in a friend’s apartment, talking about the hardships of being paranormal. Haley, being in a very healthy relationship with a man that fully accepts her abilities as a paranormal, listened as I talked of my struggles with dating. Even though Haley’s boyfriend was ok with Haley’s gifts, she understands that the hardest part about this ability isn’t the attacks and constant visits, it’s frankly, dating. What man wants that bomb dropped on him? What man is willing to accept not only my gifts, but the weird, unexplainable phenomenon that tends to happen around me? For example, doors open and closing, to the normal eyes, by themselves. Who wants to sit with me and watch items being moved around, or my hair being pulled, or the TV turning on and off, again, by itself. Sure, some guys have found it “cool,” but then those are the ones that I tend to feel exploited by, and tend to only focus on that side of me and not everything else, which is not a healthy relationship. Other men tend to act like they’re ok with it, but the minute something “weird” happens or the minute I know something about them (the psychic part in me) that they did not tell me, it sends them running for the hills.

“Seriously! You don’t need a man!” Melanka said as she sat down beside me clutching a can a beer. Here she sat, this beautiful girl, long blonde hair with a red bandanna wrapped around her head, cut off shorts, glasses, and barefoot. She folded her legs up on the sofa to sit Indian style, rested her beer between her legs, and turned her face towards me. Looking dead into my eyes with her piercing, blue eyes, she smiled, and said, “Why do you think you need a man?”

Being completely caught off guard by this stranger, I smiled back at her, and sheepishly said, “I guess I don’t.”

I watched Melanka as she lifted her beer and took another sip. Really? Why wasn’t she freaked out about our paranormal discussion. Most people always have something to say about my abilities. She, for the first time in my life, was someone who honestly did not seem phased one way or the other. Instead, she spent the rest of the night reassuring me, someone she did not know, of my strength and independence as a woman.

As the night came to a close, and we all gathered our things to return to our homes, Melanka reached over to me and gave a huge hug. I have to be honest, it shocked me, but I was glad she hugged me goodbye. When I left, I honestly thought I would never see this girl again, but I was gladly mistaken.

The very next day, when we, as Dodekapus, went to Little 5 Points to feed the hungry, there she was. As it turns out, Melanka not only was she in Dodekapus, she, with Lam, was its creator. It was their brainchild. As we got to the corner of Little 5, Melanka greeted me with a hug again. She grabbed art supplies, handed them to me, and we, with the rest of the group, set up. Never once did she treat me like a stranger. From the minute I met her, in a very comfortable way, she treated me like someone she knew and trusted.

As time past, Melanka and I grew closer. Our conversations grew even more personal, and what started off as two people seeing each other twice a week at Dodeka meetings ended up as two friends talking to and/or seeing each other almost every single day. It wasn’t until one night at Star Bar, months after meeting her, that she brought up my abilities.

“I just want you to know I have a lot of respect for you,” Melanka said to Haley and me behind a crowd of screaming people.

“For what?” I said back to her.

“For your paranormal gifts. I think it’s cool you help people,” she said with a smile.

It shocked me! I honestly didn't think she remembered what Haley and I were talking about that fateful night Melanka and I met.

“Thanks!” I replied.

One Saturday, at Atlanta's Land Trust, there was a festival, Freedom Fest, and Dodekapus was there with our own booth. Next to our booth, we had our spirit tent where Lam, Haley, Kregg, and I worked with people. As the day progressed, Melanka pulled me aside to do a reading, but instead of reading in the tent, we jumped the fence and climbed into a tree house, and for an hour, I read for Melanka, deepening our friendship even more. At the end of the reading, I gave her my evil eye necklace to keep her safe, and told her that I believed she, too, had a gift of vision. I told her that, like my story, Dodekapus was something bigger than our collective. We are warriors for change, and we grow together with our change by creation.

Melanka, like Adrian and Lam, is someone I plan to have in my family forever. She is someone to whom I would give the shirt off my back. What started off as a random girl sitting beside me at a random party has not only become a true friend, but a very important part of my life.


For more information on Dodekapus Art Collective please go to www.dodekapus.org, http://dodekapus.blogspot.com, or visit us on facebook and twitter.

For more information in Lam's performances, please visit Minette Magnifique or "Lam with a B" on facebook.

***Atlanta's beltine is 22 miles of old railroad tracks that run throughout Atlanta. There are now art projects on the Beltline open to public viewing. Dodekapus has a structure, Wickerpus, under Freedom Parkway's section of the beltline.

"Capoeira is an Afro-Brazilian art form that combines elements of martial art, music, and dance. It was created in Brazil by slaves sometime after the sixteenth century"- Wikipedia

**Below is the video that I recoded of Adrian's Capoeira at Dodekapus' April 9th show.


Friday, July 23, 2010

Living Walls and Monica





Being a part of Dodekapus means that, at times, we commit ourselves to other organizations we believe in to assist them in achieving their goals. One of these organizations is Living Walls. "Living Walls: The City Speaks" is a conference set to take place in Atlanta, August 13-15, 2010. This conference is based on street art, and with a long list of artist coming into Atlanta from all over the world; this conference is bound to be a success!

Well... that is to say... a success without a little blood, sweat, tears, and not to mention a new friendship along the way...

Living Walls founders consist of two people, Monica and Blacki, and when they came to Dodekapus for help, it was agreed that we would put on a carnival and the end of June to help raise funds for their kick-starter. We had multiple meetings about our event, switched locations, switched the date, made a huge twister board, put together costumes, got a trampoline, got a kissing booth, cleaned out a bathtub for apple bobbing, and worked well into the night painting signs and decorating the space for the event. Throughout this event planning for our carnival, it was agreed that I, being one of the writers in Dodekapus, would write a proposal for Monica to present to business owners in Atlanta so Living Walls may be granted access to a wall on the businesses buildings. I didn't know Monica that well. I'd only seen her in passing socially, and of course, seen her at a couple Dodekapus meetings, but I was willing to work with her because I believed in her organization.

Before writing the proposal, I went one morning with Monica and another Dodekian, Ana, to look for potential walls around the city. When Monica jumped in the car, she dropped her bag and laptop on the floor, turned and looked me square in the eyes and said, "Oh my God! My hair looks like Kelly Kapowski's!" First of all, her hair did not look like Kelly Kapowski's. Monica is a beautiful Peruvian girl with beautiful Peruvian hair (not that Kelly Kapowski's hair isn't beautiful, it's just outdated). Secondly, the fact that this girl, who was pretty much a stranger to me, just jumped in my car and made a "Saved By the Bell" reference was probably the funniest thing I had witnessed in a very long time. I started laughing and assured her that she looked fine. We drove off to get Ana and continue our hunt across the city, jumping out at random intersections to snap pictures of walls, jaywalking across city street to get to certain walls, being stopped by GA State University security woman because she was convinced that the three of us were, for some reason, trying to find Six Flags in the middle of downtown Atlanta, parking illegally, hightailing it up and down the connector, and not to mention, getting lost between the West End and Castleberry Hill a time or two. By the end of the day, the three of us were bonded, and I not only wrote the proposal for Monica, but also became one of Monica's assistants for Living Walls.

Meetings and conversations with Monica changed. Oh sure... we still worked and continue to work our butts off for Living Walls, but through our work, we became good friends. We talked about boys, our love for them, our hate for them. We talked about boys we know, boys we have crushes on, and boys from our past we both want to forget. We talked about our parents. We talked about our families. We talked about money, when we have it, when we don't. We talked about art. We talked about booze, and we talked about our need for success in our different mediums of art (Monica is a visual artist who started in street art).

Carnival came and went with success. We had fun, and as with any Dodedekapus event, it got crazy. Monica worked the bar all night, and I nestled back between the kissing booth and the spirit tent. We all worked hard, we all played hard, and we all achieved the success for what was promised to Living Walls from Dodekapus, but being true to our friends, we continue (more so as individuals now) to work with Monica. With the conference being mere days away, I plan to help her as much as I can, this time not just for a simple belief in an organization, but belief in a friend I have grown to love.

Living Walls is something that will shake Atlanta up. It's something that, birthed form the minds of Monica and Blacki, is by far bigger than them, bigger than Atlanta, even. With Monica and Blacki doing interviews left and right, the success of Living Walls is already overwhelming, and I am so proud of my friend, Monica.

ARTIST COMING TO ATLANTA ON AUGUST 7TH TO PARTICIPATE IN LIVING WALLS:

Swampy
Doodles
Feral Child
Hugh Leeman
Marco Sueno
Faber
Ripo
Remed
Chris Stain
Jordan Seiler
Jeff Ferrel
Daniel Lobo
Clown Soldier
Gaia
Status Faction
Jason Kofke
Shaun Thurston
Loaf
Hellbent

AND MY PERSONAL FAVORITE...

The Paper Twins



** For more information on "Living Walls: The City Speak," the artist involved in the conference, or to donate to the conference please go to www.LivingWallsConference.com. You can also find more information on Facebook.

*** For more information on Dodekapus please go to www.Dodekapus.org or look for us on facebook. You can also view the Dodekpaus Mission Statement in the blog directly below this one.

Dodekapus Mission Statement


Our vision is to establish a prominent and accessible local arts culture that sustains artist and fosters a strong connection with the community. Dodekapus plans to build new bridges to the community to allow local artist to become more involved with their neighborhoods. Dodekapus believes local involvement in the arts is an important aspect of developing a healthy local arts culture that is both stimulating and beneficial to the community. Collaboration between artist of different disciplines creates something which is greater than the sum of its parts. Through this creative process, Dodekapus can produce and develop multi-media projects which both help artist develop individually as well as produce work that can be enjoyed locally.

Thursday, July 22, 2010

Haley


When I packed my bags in California, I had every intention on staying in Atlanta for the holiday season; however, immediately abandoning this upbringing and hightailing it to New York City to start a new life as a single girl at the start of the new year. Full of writing opportunities, a new outlook on being paranormal, and hope for a better future for myself, it was never in my own personal plan to stay in Atlanta. Why would I stay in here? I grew up in and around this city. In my head, there was nothing here for me. Nothing but pious churches, sweet tea, muggy summers, and bittersweet memories of a childhood I would rather soon forget. There is a saying that goes something like, "If you ever want to make God laugh, just tell God your plans." Well, what the universe had in store for me, in Atlanta, was beyond my wildest dreams. In readings* I do for others, when talking about bad a situation, out of the person's control, I say "Sometimes divine intervention comes in the form of tragedy." It is never easy for me to give out advice, and sometimes I turn a blind eye to what is happening right in front of me. I tend to ignore my personal divine intervention. But for me, my tragedy was the end of my relationship with a man I lived with and loved. My intervention was the universe getting me back to Atlanta. The divine part came in the form of beautiful, blonde, 22 year old girl named Haley.

Once I decided to stay in Atlanta, I began my quest of building a life for myself. As is true in every one's life, I tend to meet people through other people I have known before in my life. With the magical help of facebook and other social networking pages, my chain of friends began to grow. This chain, one night, led me to Young Blood Gallery, an art gallery on N. Highland nestled between Little 5 Points and the Highlands. Once arriving at Young Blood, I was greeted by a man named Jeremy. This man was dead, and wanted to talk to me. Not sure of what to do in this situation, since I was amongst strangers, I turned to my friend Elizabeth (who brought me to Young Blood and knew of my abilities) and asked her for help. "Just tell the owners," was her response. After gathering up my nerve (after all I still struggling with NOT wanting to look like a freak), I walked up to the manager, Jen, and told her about Jeremy. To my surprise, Jen and the owners were OK with what I am, and they had plenty of questions for me. We talked for a few minutes, and as we were departing I remembered them saying something about a girl named Haley, who worked there too, and could see the dead just like me. Letting it pass, I left Young Blood that night totally unaware of the friendship that was about to enter my life.

A few days later, I received a message and a friend request on facebook from Haley. In her message, she asked if we could meet and talk. We exchanged numbers and agreed to meet at Carroll Street Cafe, a little cafe in Cabbage Town. On a cold Wednesday morning in February, I met the girl who would end up warming my soul, and therefore, my life.

Once in a comfortable environment, Haley and I spoke of many things. Growing up in Macon, GA, Haley's story was very similar to my own. She, too, had her fair share of attacks, visitations, and the constant harassment from beings not in physical form. We spoke of our stomach "situations," for being a medium (as another medium described to me) your soul and spirit are on a different levels than the average person, thus, your body can't keep up, leaving the medium with terrible digestive problems. We spoke of our desire for all individual to be equal, and our personal fight to allow any people the right to marry. We talked of our desire for peace and acceptance among mankind, and our love for animals. I, on the verge of going vegetarian, and Haley, someone who had been vegetarian and vegan at different times in her life, both have the ability to see and feel animal spirits, leaving us with a constant struggle not to eat another being, created by God, with a spirit and a soul. As our friendship progressed, Haley and I became best friends. A friendship, unlike others, for Haley and I understood each other. Our conversations left that of paranormal phenomenon and moved on to other things, but deep down, we knew that out of every person we each knew in the world, we were the only two that understood what a "bad day" truly meant. We started doing readings* together, using our abilities to help people, and using each other to grow in this gift the universe had given us. "I think we were sisters in past life," Haley said to me one afternoon in the car. I shook my head yes. I had known Haley before, and would continue to know Haley throughout the rest of this life, and whatever lives we have left on this earth.

On Friday April 9, 2010, Haley called me. "Come to an art show tonight," she said. "It's in Castleberry Hill, and I want you to meet my art collective." I agreed to meet her there early, but due to getting lost and circling the Georgia dome multiple times, I arrived late. Finally, what I walked into would, again, change my life for the better. In this room of was a bunch of young people... all artist, pure artist. There were paintings on the wall, live work going on, bands preforming, and people dressed in costume with body paint from head to toe. The night was pure madness, good madness, and as the night ended, I went home with a smile on face.

Soon after the April 9th show, Haley got me to come to the collective meetings. Soon after that, I got involved with this art collective. Soon after that, I became friends with the other artists. Soon after that, these artist became my family. A family that I would miss even if I never met them. A family that I would do anything to help. A family that fully accepts me not only as a creative writer, but as a paranormal girl. A family that ends every conversation with "I love you." In such a small amount of time this group of people, who months before were complete strangers, became one of the most important things in my life. I thank my lucky stars everyday that my relationship with my ex ended, and therefore, these people came into my life.... my family.

This family is known as DODEKAPUS.



*Readings is the word that I (and Haley) use to describe what we do when we work with others on a paranormal level. It involves "reading" into people's energy to see and communicate with spirits that might be following that particular person.

Tuesday, March 30, 2010

Southern Thread!


Hey Everyone! Be sure to vote for my friend Stephen's band! They're competing in Battle of the Bands, and are really very good! Please go to www.theridge957.com and place your vote for Southern Thread!

New Blog should be up by the end of the week... I've talked about ghost, I've talked about demons, and now I'm going to talk about Angels. Be ready... This next blog is going to be the start of a very heavy side of Being Brice.

Thank you all again for following! Your support means the world to me! Once again... vote for Southern Thread!

Much love and peace to you all!
Brice

Thursday, March 18, 2010

A Day for Kaye


In Loving Memory of Kaye Beacham
July 19, 1983- March 18, 2010

Dear Friends and Followers,

This morning the Darlington class of 2001 lost another friend, Kaye Beacham, to cancer. She was 26 years old, and leaves behind two small children. As most of you know, we were planning a benefit on the 11th of April to raise money for her treatment. From what I understand, we are still going forward with this event in hopes to raise money for her children. If you would like any information on "A Day for Kaye" please email me via this blog or on my personal facebook page. God bless her and her family during this hard time. May Kaye find peace and health in the afterlife.

Much love and peace to all,
Brice

Monday, March 15, 2010

My Monday with Moe.


Before I continue with you all on my journey in the paranormal, I want to introduce you to a very special character that will continue to make returning appearances in and out of "Being Brice," my sister's dog Moe. Moe is a black lab puppy, and although he lives with my sister in Auburn, Alabama, he does come to visit his "Aunt Brice" on occasion. Moe is nothing short of a miracle, and it's nothing short of a miracle that I survive him each and every time he comes to stay.

My father is a veterinarian, and because of this, growing up we were never short on pets. With dogs, my dad always bought the finest of the breeds, and he trained them to be obedient to their human masters. Since we, like most American kids, grew up in a house, in a neighborhood, with a yard, our dogs were... well... dogs. They got to run around freely, only returning home on command, and were not allowed inside since my mother, being loyal to her "southern" heritage, was (and still is) house proud. They had their beds, their food, and their water nestled nicely in the garage, and ONLY were allowed in the house (and by house I mean the kitchen) if the weather was dangerous.

Years have passed now, and life has changed. My parents are now divorced, and my sister and I have left home. Living in LA for me meant that I never felt I had the time or the place to have a pet. Living in Alabama for my sister meant that she has fields full of space for a little puppy to run and play. Since leaving LA and relocating back to Atlanta, my sister has taken full advantage of being so close to me, and always finds a time to drop my "nephew" off. In order to get Moe to stay in the apartment, she has to drop him off by shoving his butt through the door, saying a quick bye, and high tailing it back out again. This past Friday was the same story, and what was suppose to be a simple over night stay for Moe with my mom and step dad ended up with him staying five extra days with me. Although I love Moe with all my heart, it is hard to have him here with me... in Atlanta... in an apartment...

...And so Monday March 15, 2010, went down as follows...

At ten to seven in the morning Moe jumped on my bed ready to go... and by that I mean to go outside to the bathroom. Normally that's not too early for me, but on this particular Monday, after being up at till all hours of the night, it was a brutally early hour. Since I am in an apartment, in a city, as most of you probably are, there are particular rules that have to be followed, one of them being your dog has to be on a leash and another one being you have to pick your dog's poo up. Now, Moe is a lab, and a strong little lab at that... and I don't care what "Ceaser" says, when a damn lab wants to walk you, he'll walk you, and with Moe... he runs you. So, after putting a jacket on over my PJs to face the early morning air, I clipped the leash on Moe and the two of us went out. As soon as Moe went flying down the stairs, I knew this day was going to be a long, brutal, all consuming Moe-ish day from Hell.

As soon as we got down to the main street, and slowed down to a minor "trot," I saw Moe's nose hit the ground to smell for his place to take his morning poo. Even though it is a rule where I live to bag the poo, if no one is around and Moe finds a nice little discreet place in the bushes, I normally will a) slyly walk away with that poo-wasn't-left-by-my-dog type walk or b) kick leaves over it so hopefully no one will notice and Moe and I can go about our day without me having to put my hand near his poo. But on this particular Monday morning, Moe decided that at 7 AM he was going to plop right down in the middle of my building's freshly manicured lawn and take a huge dump right by all the little children leaving to go to school and the adults leaving to go to work. Not only did he decided to take a dump right in the open for the world to see, but he decided once his ass was close to the grown, that he was going to shuffle around and spread the love of poo all over the lawn. After the poo was "handled" by me, Moe decided to give an encore performance. Since Moe is a lab, and labs are notorious for being super friendly, Moe tends to get excited when he sees people, and in his "joy" over being amongst all the people (who, of course, found him adorable), he jumped up on a lady neighbor, and peed all over her in her work clothes. To my amazement, she was ok with it and while she ran back in to change, I bolted with Moe back into the apartment in total embarrassment, but not before making sure everyone watching knew he was my sister's dog and not my own.

After we got back in and Moe was fed, I got my laptop out to start some new drafts for my other outlets of "Being Brice." Well, Moe did not like this. At first, he did not like the attention that I was giving my laptop over him and tried to knock if off my lap, and then he changed his mind. Instead of being jealous of the laptop, he decided he was going to try to eat the laptop just as he had eaten a pencil, a wii remote, and countless shoes in our together times in the past. As his teeth wrapped around my keyboard I jumped up in horror knocking Moe off the sofa, and in his mind starting a new game. I bolted back to my bedroom shut the door on Moe and put my laptop high up in my closet so Moe could not get to it. As I opened the door back up, there sat Moe, with his head tilted sideways... looking up to me with those cute puppy eyes. I could not be too mad for too long.

As the day progressed, so did Moe's "active" personality, and as it grew, the barking began, that loud, lab bark that's meant for a farm, not an apartment. In my haste to calm him, I jump up, grabbed his bone, and tried to get him to run a couple of laps around the apartment. When nothing worked, and the barking continued, I decided to turn the music on and up in an attempt to drown out Moe's bark from the whole apartment building. Green Day did not work. Oasis did not work. The Beatles did not work, but when Lady GaGa came on, Moe shut up. He got very quiet, and then, started jumping around in a dance-like trance. Yes, my sister's black lab liked... no loved... Lady GaGa. I listened to "Bad Romance" so many times on this Monday, that next time I go to karaoke, I think I'm going to rock it. (And Yes... I am aware that Moe might be gay due to his infatuation with Lady GaGa).

After dancing his ass off, Moe passed out for all five minutes before he, once again, had to go back out. As we went out this time, it became apparent that Moe actually does know how to take his leash off. As a bird, flying low to the ground, came swooping by Moe, he cocked his head sideways, ripped off his leash, and galloped down the street after the bird. Of course this means that I (still in my PJs and no bra on) had to go galloping down the streets of Atlanta after Moe. For every loud bark Moe made towards that damn bird, I made and even louder, desperate bark-like scream at Moe to STOP! Moe, realizing that he had left me behind, finally returned to me... his head tilted sideways... again looking up at me with those cute puppy eyes... I grabbed him by the collar and we marched back into the apartment with my head tilted low in hopes that no one I know would notice me out in public, running down the streets of Atlanta, in the attire that I was in.

On our way back to the apartment from our bird run, Moe found a stick. I let him carry his stick back to the door. Once we got there, I tried to take the stick away from him, and he growled at me. In my exhaustion, I let him take the stick inside and thought to myself, "What harm could this stick do? All he's going to do is chew on it?" HA! When we were inside, I left Moe and his stick alone in the living room while I went to change (finally), and by the time I got back to the living room, little pieces of wood covered every inch of the floor. And he didn't stop there. All the pillows had been pulled down, and most of the bills that had been on the coffee table now were, too, all over the floor. At this point I didn't know if I should be mad or amazed at how quickly he made an orderly apartment look like a condemned home or pissed that I had to get on my hands and knees to pick up the mess.

After I had cleaned up Moe's mess, and ate something standing up with my arm holding my plate high in the air so Moe could not get my food, I sat down for hopes of a few moments of peace. But alas, a few seconds after I sat down, I saw that was not going to happen. Moe came galloping onto the sofa, knocking me off and standing on top of me. As I tried to get back up, he continued to push me over, and just to add insult to injury, Moe sat on my head and farted. One of those silent, nasty, dog farts. I jumped up and ran to the bathroom thinking that this just might make me vomit.

Once I washed my face, and forgave Moe for farting on me, I leashed him back up (double lock and guard this time) to take him back out to make sure that fart was not the beginning of a nasty poo. As we, again, bolted down the stairs, Moe noticed some men unpacking a U-haul, and he made a sharp turn toward the men, pulling me along behind him. One of the men went running back into the car screaming like a little girl in terror over this lab approaching, and the other (while his hand scratching his own ass) came up and stopped Moe for me. Moe, again, got very excited over all this attention the Ass Scratching U-haul man was giving him, and yes, he peed on him, too. In my total embarrassment, I pulled Moe back into the apartment, turned Lady GaGa back on to entertain him, and said a silent prayer of Thanksgiving that my mother would be here soon to take Moe out of my hands.

Although Moe is a nightmare at times, when he is away, I do miss him, and I know he will be a huge part of "Being Brice." Animals always see spirits the way mediums see spirits, and when others sense a spirit around me and run away in terror, Moe always loyally stands beside me. After all... a dog is a man's best friend...



*I apologize for this blog not being about a paranormal event. Most of my blogs are, but I felt it necessary for you, my followers to get to know Moe. He will continue to come in and out of "Being Brice," and yes, will be a part of many ghost stories to come... :) The next blog will be back to paranormal phenomenon.