I can’t even remember all the KEY strokes I made to find a space where I make keys. Nor the coding and the deprogramming for how it works, but I do! I offer a way to HEAVEN and I was created to create keys to that door. The exact ways or the personal path that unlocks that mystical door? Those life choices are yOURS!

Birdanity it is not THE way N truth

it is not the ONLY path or a map

it is not PERFECT dna or code

it is no eXact life science

it is not PRETTY!

it is not dear,

it is (me)

(i am)


I am the smallest Atom, speaking from the tinniest essence of matter that could ever cease to exist. And do I ever cease to eXit? or eXist? That is the key and the question to life’s answers!

When I speak to that Adam of an atom that is connected to many atoms I find the Source of light and life inside. Life like there is no veil of evil between Adam and Stephan. NO veil is required for any ceremonial dance we may do to confirm Heavens doors will open wide and receive us all Once Upon a Time and when this life is through.

I am already in heaven! I am here NOW. And I have been through hell and back again in getting here! Would you like the key that I will make especially for YOU?

Key warning: I refuse to lock the doors to heaven behind me, nor to anyone who is headed for those heavens. The door will not be locked! This WHITE house will remain open to all BLACK people and the melting POT of native humans who look just like me.


Service is happening everywhere and everyday. There will be no Secret Services nor a secret of a service. Instead, there will be the angels that protect (me) all around and you may see them too.

I do

and only

everyday, God!

I see angels and hear dead people and feel the movement of the dance that is happening all around me. I step onto social busses within public systems and start that light-giving life that I lead where I create energy, then give it away as I touch people with my life.

Yesterday, I gave away my Gerson Therapy book on the train. A book for someone I know will use it. Someone whom I hope will be a friend for a while.

I need friends, true friends.

People who come back: I want true friends as i live and breathe and wander this world. I want them to love, text and call me. And I don’t want to have to be the one who tries too damn hard and/or to be and keep creating friends. Sew i call them in my head NOW and I write to each of them every day every day every day…

Sew that when I am with them, I can be quiet and to learn to listen more to their story. Even to stop writing about them in this damn journal because they HATE THAT. They hate even before and AFTER I told them (when I met them) that I was an author, a writer, an artist and a blogger. I told them all who I was before and after..

I told them, I tell them STRAIGHT UP that THIS is my favorite thing to do . I LOVE to write in this journal and lickety click the word PUBLIC, witch is to say the word PUBLISH. THEY ALL KNEW what i was about and I.T. was THIS heavenly book about keys to the kindness kingdom from a journalist who doesn’t charge monie$ to read this “messy” book!

CRAZY Driving

Writing, I drive my friends crazy with my words actually and so I stopped DRIVING them at all. I don’t even have a car anymore. Haven’t for over a year.

Now, they offer to drive me. Sometimes they drive me crazy with their driving, which is filled with stories that are often IRRATIC and late and pain-filled BITCHING that i listen to as they drive us all crazy. I just listened and asked questions.

Real friends? THeir eyes are white and they take me wherever I need to go as long as I have paper bills with me or a fake NEWS credit card. One that I use to purchase my ticket(s) on these systems. Those are my true friends who don’t drive me angry or TOO CRAZY, nor people who put my life in danger behind that wheel.

I refuse to drive my friends most of the time. Though I love a good motorcycle ride, cars are a bit too cray cray with ROAD RAGE. Each time that emotional pain from EGAN O’KEENE resurfaces. The very word “egg-an” reminds me that I will never get in another angry car or one that is being driven by a tiny angry human. Nor to DRIVE my friends CRAZY with ROAD RAGE and those shot-filled words that so clearly would be able to shoot others.

Too, I remember what it was LIKE to be DRIVEN CRAZY by EGAN and that old INK thereafter. At our ol’ INC of an ink where she was 8 hours a day on FIRE and she FIRED (me) UP, didn’t S:He? I was and am just a human BEing….

NUMB(er) Changes

Egan? That Witch of a trickery isn’t her real name. She sold her real name OUT and I did too. Still am, and for a time I was SELAH, the total sell OUT to: GOD who was fired and evicted for being too SPIRITUAL and singing too much. True story? Indeed, that gutting got weird.

I am just “Steph Bird” or whatever name people want to call me that day and from the beginning. One day, Sky and I were George for a holy day! It was pretty Georgy porgey of us..

Even Stephan has been called a CUNT a few times by men, oddly also named STEVEN. Most especially seared in the hippocampus is that repeated CUN’T name that was typed by Steve Ur-ick and men just like him! Men who wanted to throw rocks and even stone me for the things I wrote directly to Steven.

To me, Steve was too often an asshole in business and I was simply WIRED (and weird too, just like Steve)! In any case, i HATE the name STEVEN when I CUN’T even remember who stephanie is anymore either!

In fact, I hate to be called Stephan and unless it’s that squeaky song from the beginning credits of STEVEN UNIVERSE! I hate it with a passion because I am no STEVEN because it reminds me too much of Urkel and I CUN’T even spell urkle. Though I definitely do URK some folks when they read this journal.

Others love me dearly and keep cumming back to this BLOG of a LOG. One about the life of a BIRD who is DYING to LIVE here in these heaven(s) with you all!

This iZ

mY obYtuarY,



did yoU

not kNow?


Steph Bird
Test: 20181106

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thiZ IZ mY obYtuarY
Steph Bird, yesterday? Test: 20181105