Hedda Kim

Hedda Kim Vegas-bred poet, performer & experimental musician. Myth-fed, neon-resistant, hypercreative madwoman.

NYC Summer 2026: The Audacious Ones 🇫🇷🍷🗽Some friendships survive distance by simply refusing to become distant.So when w...
08/11/2026

NYC Summer 2026: The Audacious Ones 🇫🇷🍷🗽

Some friendships survive distance by simply refusing to become distant.

So when we landed in New York, making time for our wonderfully creative Manhattan friend Julie Campagna — Julie Campagna — was non-negotiable.

We strolled through the Villages together, talking our way down the streets like we had nowhere particular to be, eventually wandering into Amélie Amélie Bistro & Wine Bar NY for French food, amazing wine, and more talking.

Because with certain friends, the walk is part of the visit.

Julie is one of those people you can drop back into a conversation with after far too much time has passed and somehow there is no catching up. There is just continuing.

Meanwhile, the World Cup had the city buzzing, the Village was doing its Village thing, and somehow we ended up with a bottle of French wine called L’Audacieux.

The Audacious.

Well.

Apparently the wine had already met us. 😂🍷

There is something wonderful about collecting creative people across a lifetime and across geography—and then periodically finding yourselves wandering the same streets again, eventually landing at a table somewhere and picking the conversation right back up.

Las Vegas. Manhattan.
A walk through the Village.
French wine.
Artsy friends.
No sensible segue required.

10/10. Would cross several time zones and walk several New York blocks for this table again. 🗽🍷🖤
Julie Campagna David A. Caren
Hedda Kim | Heather Rodriguez CreativeIdentityCode Tangerine Orchid Music

Andy and I had a moment.Or maybe I just wandered into the room where one of the people who permanently rewired twentieth...
08/07/2026

Andy and I had a moment.

Or maybe I just wandered into the room where one of the people who permanently rewired twentieth-century art was waiting on the wall.

Warhol understood something I've spent my whole life circling:

Art doesn't have to ask permission.
It doesn't have to stay in one lane.
It can be commercial and profound.
Beautiful and uncomfortable.
Popular and deeply strange.

Standing there at SFMOMA over Fourth of July weekend, I wasn't thinking about fame.

I was thinking about freedom.

The freedom to keep making the weird thing.
To ignore the imaginary rules.
To let your work evolve every decade if it needs to.

Some artists paint soup cans.

Some write poems about poisonous flowers, psychic wounds, and Vegas.

Same impulse.

Different groceries.

🎨 SFMOMA • San Francisco • July 2026

Hedda Kim | Heather Rodriguez CreativeIdentityCode Tangerine Orchid Music

06/30/2026

🎻 Proof that eavesdropping on your neighbors can occasionally be an excellent life choice.

Cherry & the Sours rehearse next door at Sean’s house, and since we share a condo wall, we’ve had the unofficial preview package for a while now.

Last Saturday we caught them live at The Grey Witch — it was a blast seeing them come alive on stage.

Cherry on stand-up bass and vocals.
George on guitar.
Sean on drums.
That perfect rockabilly pulse that makes your shoulders start moving before your brain signs the permission slip.

As a musician who raised kids around constant band rehearsals, I have a soft spot for the beautiful chaos of people making music in real time.

You see, in my world, a bass line bleeding through the condo wall isn’t noise pollution.
It’s a VIP preview. 🎻🎶



Hedda Kim CreativeIdentityCode Tangerine Orchid Music David A. Caren
cherry_and_the_sours

06/29/2026

🎹 Mini Me, 1969

The year was 1969.
Gulbransen piano.
Which I still have.
Butterfly bones and a brain full of sound.

Building a bridge between worlds.
Between obedience and art.
Between silence and self.

Just a kid who knew without knowing that music could say the things the world didn’t have language for.

Still making noise.
Still turning keys into spells.

✨ Hedda Kim

06/05/2026

🔥 POEM: “Filed Under: "Probably Too Much”
(for anyone who has ever made a spreadsheet of their own emotional damage)
by Hedda Kim | September 11, 2025
🎵 Music: Jair-Rohm Parker Wells “Aeon Groove” from “Neural Resonance - Tales from the OmniSphere”

🪶 This one’s for the emotional librarians.
The archivists of their own heartbreak.
The ones who have a tab, a folder, a playlist, and a panic attack for every version of themselves.

🔥 “Filed Under: Probably Too Much” is my love letter to overthinkers, self-analyzers, and the spreadsheet witches who process life like data and poetry at the same time.

Maybe you’re not too much.
Maybe you’re just—finally—well documented.




🗝️ 💌 Join The Creative Underground — where even chaos gets a soft place to land.

05/29/2026

✨ POEM: “The Algorithm Misread My Aura”
for the daughter of a scientist who became a mystic
by Hedda Kim | 2021

🎵 Music: Jair-Rohm Parker Wells “Aeon Groove” from “Neural Resonance - Tales from the OmniSphere”

The algorithm misread my aura.
Diagnosed me with “lightworker tendencies”
and a mild dependency on cosmic approval.
It never saw the daughter of a scientist
who dissected miracles like specimens
and learned to tell the difference
between intuition and imbalance.

“The Algorithm Misread My Aura” is for every woman
who’s been labeled oracle, healer, priestess,
when all she was doing
was surviving with style.

It’s the story of being projected on like some cosmic movie screen, consumed, occasionally and uncomfortably worshipped, and finally…walking out of the temple with your boundaries intact.

These days, when the algorithm tries to shove me
into a spiritual starter pack with moon-phase marketing
and $11.11 wisdom downloads,
I just block the bots, smudge the screen with sarcasm, and whisper:

I’m not your angel or your succubus…
just a wordsmith with an attitude problem
and decent Wi-Fi.

05/22/2026

🍞 POEM: “Breadcrumbs” (for the ones who toss crumbs and call it care)
by Hedda Kim | 2025
🎵 Music: Jair-Rohm Parker Wells “Aeon Groove” from “Neural Resonance - Tales from the OmniSphere”

🪶 Some people offer love like a feast.
Others offer it like a famine.

“Breadcrumbs” is for the ones who give just enough to keep you starving;
a spark, a flicker, a “maybe” every few days
while you convince yourself it’s fire.

Breadcrumbing isn’t affection.
It’s control disguised as hope.

And sometimes the only way out of the woods
is to stop following the crumbs
and bake your own damn bread.

This poem is the refusal.
The shutting of the door.
The doorbell I’m not bothering to check…

the offering left untouched,
uncut, unclaimed.

05/15/2026

🩶 POEM: “Proof of Life, In Pencil” by Hedda Kim | June 9, 2025
🎵 Music: Jair-Rohm Parker Wells “Aeon Groove” from “Neural Resonance - Tales from the OmniSphere”

(the ache of being too complex for casual translation… interior–exterior dissonance for the ones who never got the memo)

🪶 People think I’m calm because they only hear the parts I say out loud.

But the real story?

The real story happens in parentheses, half-sentences, and unpublished monologues I never let leave the room.

“Proof of Life, In Pencil” is for the thinkers, the internalizers, the ones who carry entire universes behind their eyes and still nod politely while others fill the air.

It’s for the quiet geniuses.

The accidental mystics.

The ones who learned to whisper brilliance so they wouldn’t get accused of ego.

You want to know me?
Read me.

Because out loud, I soften the edges—sort of…
but on paper, I leave no room for misinterpretation.

On paper, I exist at full volume.


🔥

05/08/2026

POEM: Harbingers
🖋️ by
🎵 Music: “Quantum Shift” by from Neural Resonance: Tales From the Omnisphere

They came when I didn’t know how to be a girl anymore…
not the kind I was trained to be.
Not the one shaped for someone else’s desire.

The harbingers arrived with quiet hands and soft eyes,
showing me how to sip from the glass of my own becoming.

This poem was written during another transition,
but it feels just as true now
as I release the old paradigms of love and belonging.
As I lay down the idea that I must be chosen to be worthy.
As I evolve my relationships that were built on the old paradigms into newer healthier ones.

The women I spoke of in this old poem, these muses, these moments…
they reminded me:
you can be held
without being owned.
You can be seen
without being shaped.

And sometimes,
the greatest healing comes in two simple words:

“Just play.”

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Las Vegas, NV
89108

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