Remembering Terence Sellers aka Mistress Angel Stern

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The Motherboards joins fans of literature, female dominance, and the NYC demi-monde in mourning the death of one of our founding members, Terence Sellers, author of The Correct Sadist and editor of Verbal Abuse among many other works.

Here is the official statement from terencesellers.com:


Terence Sellers 1952 - 2016

The friends, family and literary estate of Terence Sellers are sad to mark the author's passing on January 25, 2016, after a brief battle with leukemia. Memorials will be held in New Mexico and New York City with details to be shared on this site. A pioneer and iconoclast till the end, she is survived by her enormous literary legacy and the generations of women she inspired.

Literary contact: Brian Kress briankressaustin @ gmail

Press contact: Chi Chi Valenti at The Jackie Factory NYC news @ jackiefactory.com

Photo above: Marti Wilkerson

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She was a woman who understood the ways of men.                                                                           

She knew the proper way to light a cigar.

She ruled with a firm leather gloved hand.

She cried at true beauty.

She wrote words on paper that could make you shiver.

She knew when enough was enough.

She was fearless in the face of intellect.

She had a tender heart behind her harshest barb.

She was loved by everyone who waited patiently to see behind the veil.

She knew she was part illuminati and part pagan.

I will love and miss her forever.

Rest In peace my Warrior Goddess.

xo

BM

our dialogues and our lives held such momentum..

terence glorified the grandiose like no one else..

we shared erosion and wind and water devas.. we shared our hearts.. and our contempt

she had an appreciate for the macabre.. like ageing and all the grisly stuff that goes with.. i was so looking forward to growing old with this woman.. but no

i'm on that journey alone now as there will never be another like her..

i love you terence..

robert

 

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Open me up and find the perfect place to get lost.

I offer you vicious beauty of my voice before the humans wanted it to make sense.

Your voice, lit cigarette against pyramid on the dollar bill of my coronary muscle.

My spirit runs along the ridges above the Gila River threading  lightening strikes, laughing

like cum you sweetly frightened.

I blessblame that Miller girl for introducing us the way scar is seduced back beneath skin.

A blame made of the scent of leather and pale pink roots of extracted wisdom teeth. 

Celebrating still, are you now, I doubt not, a command of nature no one knew they had.

Perish from here, as you will, you still have us, and I do not fear where you guide us.

Wasn't it always your miracle, to penetrate the boundary we see as impossible for ourselves?

 

Terence left this Earth this past month, I am deeply saddened that she is now gone from it.  

When I met Terence she was a very serious, striking and commanding person so I was certainly intimidated, it was obvious I was dealing with an intellectual so I needed to be at my best behavior and my most attentive in her presence.
She was an accomplished writer, a luminary in the New York underground, and a maestra of an art I'd only read about; she could make the most debauched intellectual blush with words alone and she could discuss any esoteric philosophy, reference any french writer with complete aplomb, that was the Terence I met.

I will remember our walks through little alleys and hidden streets, we would talk about composers from baroque to classical, writers from the romantic to the degenerate. We traversed around Tompkins Square Park in a proper clockwise direction or sometimes in a counterclockwise fashion, all depending on which spell we were casting that evening, and we cursed many in our time together.

When I got to know Terence I was privileged, she was kind to me and what I saw was someone who was supportive, caring, and loving towards her adopted family; she shared many stories about those she lived with and those she came up with in the New York she knew so well.  There were so many amazing people, painters, photographers, writers, singers and performers in her life, she always spoke fondly of them. That was the Terence I knew.


- web angel

 

 

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