“After Dinner Mints” is a sojourn through addiction, love, death, relativity
and everything in-between.
Ms. Lupinacci is a Certified Massage Therapist, Reiki Master and an
Integrated Energy Therapist who currently resides in New Jersey.
From the Book:
Interviewing a Journalist
The last night we spoke: we discussed "evil". Yours and mine.
Writers do this. They take an instance of human error and turn it into a soliloquy of metaphors to justify why it's all fallen apart.
We fell apart, died.
Your eyes agonized when describing the maggot that grew fatter embedded within the marrow of your spine, unable to morph into a fly.
And I ignored the look, as it bled onto the surface of your contorted face.
It should have been so simple. Me, being esoteric and versed in such things: transcendence, symbols, decay. You, being logical and ground based: explanations pouring themselves onto your pages with all the hows and whys accredited in their proper places.
But evil doesn't float on either side of logic or creativity; it is the maggot, the germ that swims within the nucleus and feeds on its plasma. One cannot confer its power and walk away unscathed. Withered in its depths, the writer finds himself giving way to cause as he scribes obscure words. He neither denies nor defends, because in the end it is all about the means and the time of death.
“The woman or man who is a poet, or fiction writer, or playwright, or all of these, is engaged constantly in a jazz ballet of vocabularies, passions, genders, histories, perspectives, death, love, and life. The music of revelation announces itself to
