The Collective Works and Homepage of Miss. Mel "Pixi" Anderson

(Mel to Family) Pixi Anderson is a twenty-nine year old Author, Entrepreneur, and Musician. Currently expanding her horizons into non-fiction autobiographical works, children’s fairy tales and lyricist. Finding her traditional outlet being her off beat hand in percussion's, poetry and spoken word she aspires into everything from short essay’s on rather outspoken political views into environmental, theological and metaphysical works. But her interests don't really stop there!

Her up and coming projects include Starving Artist Concepts, an umbrella name for her fledgling ideas including Pixilated Ink Promotions a web based promotions company serving such Comedians as Jason Stewart, and Andy Andrist and Film Makers Jeff Pearson and Mary Jones of the Indie project Pirate Radio USA .

There is also Mellancholy Creations (Notoriously mis-spelled also; "oh, simply to amuse myself and keep people guessing... It's simply the Pixie side of me I suppose." She say's chuckling.)

"Mellancholy Creations is definitely my "peter pan" side of imagination and art. Everything I do whether it be jewelry or paintings kind of find them selves categorized there. My Interior design plans, my clothing line, most of my song lyrics and Children's books all fall into Mellancholy Creations. It was my first idea which then got bundled down into Starving Artist Concepts, Pixilated Ink Promotions was my step in growing up a bit and taking my potential seriously."

"Some of my current projects to look out for is my next 3 books, hopefully hitting print within the next 18 months, also expanding my client base as far as PI2 (Pixilated Ink Promotions) and hopefully writing a song or three with my boyfriend Jason Stewart (comedian from The Killers of Comedy and fellow musician). All along getting ready for yet another gypsy move, this time to the Sunny sands of California I think. I do have a couple of new Children's books I am working on as well as my totally hyped up book Starving Artist (the book which inspired the name for her company) but I'm putting the majority of my focus on PI2 so, if you need a web specialist in promotions and web design give me a hollar!"

While she was born in Washington State, she made it a point after spending most of her youth in the judicial system to get out and see the States in all of their golden grain and purple mountain glory. After spending the better part of 8 years backpacking 48 of the 50 she has once again nested in the Evergreen State to pen out a bit more fluff, while comfortably keeping her gypsy title.

How ever growing up a ‘fallen through the cracks’ kid, has only sparked her imagination and unrestrained writing forms she eloquently manages to touch just about any status with her tender hand at poetry.

Her newest book "Precognitive Casualty: A book of profound revelations prolifically poetically premeditated through the art of rant and rhyme." is now available for purchase through most major book sellers.

2003....


And another year slips gently through the hourglass
Of time as I sit quietly pondering the memories
Of time I lost, time I spent endlessly searching
As I continue to do right now
My head begins to pound
As I feel dizzy knowing nothing
Yet feeling everything in waves rushing over my head
Slowly drowning me in a pool of
Vast eternal silence of uncertainties
What have I don’t in my life
That could possibly make me anything
Ahh, yes, I know now,
I dream
If a stranger were to ask me just who I am
I would have to say I am not really anyone
Yet I am spun in a complexity of inner turmoil and chaos
Cloaked in a silken shroud of dreams
I quietly pace the forty rectangular feet of my room
Remembering the time I spent in a small jail cell
How claustrophobic I was the first time I encountered that space
Yet like any caged animal
You adapt
Happiness is a foreign word to me
I mean true happiness
What that is I’m not sure I have ever really known
I know what comfortable is, what compromise is, adaptation, acceptance
Oh, to be happy.. in a drunken stumbling mess I once admitted I was
Happy
I think it was the numbness to be truthful
I stare at the luminescent screen of this computer now
And feel quite the same numbness
Lost
That is a good word for me
Somewhere between spirit and life I got lost in the sands of time
I get so angry sometimes because I am so utterly lost in this life
It always turns out to be the same pathetic moronic choices
That lead me to another story, another memory
And place
Different faces in a sea of past loves, old friends, lost contacts
The road less traveled
I slept for 23 years on that very same road
I curled up with a tumbleweed for a pillow and called
A ditch my home
I have seen so many un-believable things in my short life
Sometimes I have to sit and ask myself I am really living this thing better known as a form of life
Where am I this month.. Seattle- Alaska- Texas!?
No this month I find myself in a 20x30 ft room for the better part of
22 hrs a day staring at a wall, a computer
A black bound journal with pages of poetry about
A dream
People ask me what am I?
I am a writer
I am a lover
I am a musician
I am a soul spinning confused
In a sea of possibilities
Am I sad? I think I have become so adapted so comfortable with this
With whatever fate decides to throw at me
I don’t get sad anymore
I don’t know the last time I cried for anything other than a movie
Its odd to think that once upon a time I knew so many people
Had so many people I held dear
I don’t have one person in my life that I have known for more than a year now
But my life has been like that since elementary school
Its odd because I think I am the only person I know or have ever met in my life
That is truly and utterly alone
Yes, it is partially by choice, though in most cases that is just how my life
Seems to play out
Its like having a CD on repeat for a whole year
You first like it- enjoy it, than you are simply used to it
Then after a while it bothers you every now and then
BAM! It drives you fucking insane and of course you cant turn the damned thing off because its broken now from being on so friggin long. Wouldn’t it be nice if life had a plug?
I’d settle for different stations.
Anyone want to hear about my dreams?
That is pretty much what I am good for
A good laugh a great tale
I can tell stories about one coast to the other
Being homeless
Being a musician
Being a hapless writer
Following the Dead

Being a punk
A drug addict
An ex-con
A poet
A stepmother
A best friend
An artist
A Witch take your pick
But wait, we were talking about dreams
My dream…
Did I ever tell you about Ireland?
Land of rolling green hills and castles that echo of times past. Ireland. I am going there you know. I even set a date.
February 24th 2003, my 24th birthday. Sounds nice huh? I am going to go play in the cold new spring rain and sleep under the stars in those hills.
I’m going to name constellations out loud to myself and read
Walt Whitman smelling the earth I am going to give away copies of my children’s book to little village kids
I am going to disappear into the land of the Fae and fade into the rose colored sunset.
Well the dream brings me a small flicker of hope
It will happen someday, it has to
I wish I had a violin
I would play a song for you
I haven’t picked one up since I was ten years old, but I bet I could play you a song
Would you rather I sang a song
I haven’t sang to anyone in years but I bet I could sing a lullaby well.
Someday I will write a poem for the world so powerful and strong it will echo my voice through valleys and mountains
Bounce off the moon
It will touch the hearts of everyone in the world and make them laugh and cry all at the same time
Someday I will collide into the arms of some great love that I will just know
I am no longer alone
Someday I will have someone look into my eyes and know my whole story without me having to say a word
Everyone’s eyes tell a tale
They tell you who the person is if you look deep enough
I know this sounds nuts (maybe I am)
But I got lost in my eyes once
I remember the day, I was putting on my make-up and fell into my eyes, I snapped out of it 2 hrs later. I cannot put my finger on what I saw there but I know there is something intense in me
I know there is passion un-describable
Hope un-touchable
Love un-obtainable
Sadness un-spoken,
A voice unheard
My eyes sparkle with the intensity of the moon I’ve been told
I think my eyes sparkle with a dream like the wind that little kids whisper into
Every night
My eye’s shine like I am always on the verge of tears
I think I am in a sense
Anything happy can easily make me cry
I don’t know why-
I’ve just always been that way
Anyone ever say’s anything truly kind to me, I cry like a dove.
Ever notice how far a real hug can go?
I have had some of the most powerful hugs in my life
Most of them were goodbyes
But the ones that just hit you somewhere between the heart and the stomach-
Those are the best
The comforting hugs are always nice but there is something
In those strong unconditional understanding ones
You know the ones that you get a huge lump in your throat
I’m one of those hugger types
I give great hugs
Maybe because it’s all I know
I am a great person if you ever need a shoulder
I understand most everything pretty well
Now laughter-
You now every time a child laughs a fairy is born
Sounds silly I know
I have to laugh about everything otherwise I would be forced to succumb
To the inevitable shadows
I laugh about my own life because in all honesty if I had any sort of courage
I would have shot myself years ago
But wait
I am courageous because I do tread on
I keep my head up and keep hope
Everyday I love someone in some way
That is courageous too
Everyday I sit down and I know in the end at least one of my dreams will come true
Someday
That has to happen because otherwise who I am will be nothing
Because all I truly am
Is a dreamer