Here is what is this about. I don't know what I'm about. Funny. People look at me funnily. I'm not sure why, but I'm pretty sure I don't want to know why, and even if I knew why, I wouldn't remember anyway.

Time is a thing that speeds by on a billion schedules, pattering its way around the world in an infinitely interactive lacy web. Life billows. My heart-my heart my heart my h-heart hear-tbeats to its own fucking drum. I have a past. I have a history. I have a story. Stories. I have things.

Somewhere. I have th-thing-g-s. I have a heart. Full of Iron. I feel the iron. Non-melodiously, I feel it in my erratically beating heart.

Born and raised in Northern California, I moved to the Sierra Nevada high desert just before I turned thirty.

Most people call me Feisty. Go to Amazon, search Lilli Feisty, and you'll see why. I write. I play with my dogs. I write letters to my kid. I knit. I write.

I used to write romance novels. Now I write my memories. I love pretty stories, even when they're not pretty.