Preface:

So here I sit about to embark on the great adventure: the writing of a book.  My book.  But where to begin?  Here, I suppose.  Just the intimate privacy of me, my hand, the pen and the paper.  There is no audience.  There are no readers- except my critical eye who has promised to critique only that which is not full-out expression.  To critique timidity, a superficial and parasitical “emotion” that loves to repress.

Who cares what all this bullshit is?  The question is, “Will it get expressed?”  I challenge myself to a duel, in hopes that the self-confident, egomaniacal creator wins over the tired little pleaser, who likes to make no waves.

What’s to become of all this spewing?  This writing of words?  This non-stop verbal vomit, this desperate plea for recognition and understanding?  And does a result matter?  I leave these questions to simmer in the recesses and hallways of my mind.  I know this won’t be pretty.  But it will be honest, and honesty is always beautiful.

– Katarina Thorsen, August 5, 1994, Vancouver BC Canada