We Export Weird


I believe they called Richard Simmons normal until his brief stay at Florida State University, where they tutored him in weird. The Sunshine State sent some weird over to the Lone Star State; the weird came in the form of Leslie Cochran (the dude in the visor looking less like Richard Simmons). I wonder if they ever attended the same class.

Dave Barry made a career out of exposing South Florida’s weird-side. Carl Hiaasen set the weird to a crime beat. Tim Dorsey took out the good guys, unless you call Serge, the mass murderer, the good guy that he is. Dexter, our other homicidal maniac looks moral and normal in the South Florida that author, Jeff Lindsay, bakes in. Charlie Carlson truly made a living off of Weird Florida. The circus folk in Gibsonton may have helped instill the weird, but the so-called normals bring their own take.

When most everyone comes from somewhere(s) else, the most native becomes the most alien. I truly go by the title ET. Maybe the our prince brought the weird here, I will explore him in a later post.

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The Home For The Criminally Rich and the Criminally Insane

St_Aug_Warden_RipleysB Or Not

I use Ripley’s Believe It or Not! as my temporary example for the home of a  megalomaniac millionaire, because I still need to do some remodeling in my mind. Narcissists crave the rarest things in the world – extra special things make them feel extra special.

One Standard Oil millionaire built a home which became the first permanent Odditorium with Ripley name; Castle Warden in St. Augustine, Florida went from the rich man — to a writer’s inn (Marjorie Kinnan Rawlings husband converted the place and several writers made visit) – and now the other castle in St. Augustine holds our other oddities. Florida may lack in kings in queens, but we may lead in the American castle war.

I am rewriting a chapter and this post shows what runs in my mind when I write. An eccentric Xanadu has ran around the back of my head waiting for the critical piece to attach the images. Believe it or not; I feel I may have found the launch pad.

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The Sacrifice and the Astronaut


Does my picture matrix make any sense? What does CSI: Crime Scene Investigation have to do with I Dream of Jeanie, the praying people that Atheists and Feminists may deem as wackos, and scrap metal from Florida. Some might know, some might guess, some won’t care. For anyone still reading, my post centers around Grissom – some knew him as Gus, not the guy from CSI. Apparently William Peterson picked his character’s name in homage to Gus.

Pilot Virgil I. “Gus” Grissom, Senior Pilot Edward H. White II and Pilot Roger B. Chaffee and died in the Apollo 1 accident. The number “1” fits Gus quite well because that was his position on the Astronaut list at the time of his death. If I wrote a CSI final episode, it would take Grissom and other original cast members to help some CSI Miami members in an investigation. Something to commemorate this Grissom link and honor all three who made a sacrifice.

I plan to throw some allusions into my novel and I noted my problem with putting the men from NASA into this chapter. Astronauts have to have extreme confidence in themselves, so putting them in a Narcissus centered chapter makes me feel lower than a heel, in a way, but the chapter also centers around sacrifice and that – they did.

Larry Hagman played Jeannie’s master (bottom right image) and he played a narcissist, in the TV show, “Dallas.” Hagman also began his career doing summer stock performances in Florida, so I have many reasons to allude to him. For some reason, some Feminists see Barbara Eden’s character with god like problems as demeaning. The astronauts come off as bumbling fools. If one of the Apollo 1 astronauts prayed for the “Great All Mighty,” to look like Eden – should it offend the Religious, the Feminists or the Atheists? Belief is not the problem, only the power mongering causes trouble.

Some might not care for thoughts on Roman Catholicism, but casting a man as god’s voice on earth troubles me. I’m sorry, if I feel any apparent bum on the street may know  god better and hate power mongering between religious groups.

My “Doubting Thomas” persona keeps me from handing over all my possessions, but it seems Thomas has forgiveness. I respect beliefs in god, but lack belief in man and all those Feminists who seem to think man deserves any right to fantasy.

Jorja Fox (seen with William Peterson in the top right image) grew up not far from where the those astronauts died.

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Sacrificing the Extension of You

Jacopo ligozzi,_Sacrifice of Isaac-Divine Narc

I heard Dennis Lehane use the Abraham sacrificing Isaac story as an example of an unreliable narrator, in a writing seminar. I saw his point, but I’ve been mulling the story for other reasons. When I changed the foundation of my chapter, in rewrite; I felt guilt when I put heroic people into a chapter about narcissism, but the chapter also deals with sacrifice. Many have a narcissistic bond with their child and you can frame the child as an extension of the parent. Was Abraham asked to sacrifice the narcissist? If life is but a test, this tale take may give lesson to those obsessed with genetic drop of themselves.

My chapter’s foundation comes from Sor Juana’s, “Loa to Divine Narcissus.” and I see something solid to build upon. This post shows one thing I needed to resolve in my mind. My imagery problem still needs better answer, but one thing at a time.

If I designed a cover for Sor Juana’s work I might pair the two paintings above.

Sacrifice of Isaac by Jacopo ligozzi (left)

Salvador Dalí’s — Metamorphosis of Narcissus (right).

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A Sloppy Joe Paradise


Citizen Kane seems to point the narcissism finger at Ernest Hemingway. Orson Welles takes a jab (maybe just in fun) at Ernest Hemingway’s version of paradise. The following quote might take aim at the man with the gun.

“    Five years ago, he wrote from that place down there in the south – what’s it called … uh … Shangri-La, El Dorado … oh, Sloppy Joe’s – what, what is the name of that place? *laughs* Oh, alright – Xanadu.

Hemingway’s Xanadu may scare away wine snobs, but I’m sure wanted his name attached to the roughest, toughest saloons and the bloodiest sides of beef. Sloppy Joe’s draws a different crowd, thanks to Hemingway.

My search for Xanadu style mansions came up with a match for my fertility rite theme. James Deering reaped funds for his home from reapers – harvesting equipment. What I’ve written, so far, includes a maze. The picture doesn’t match the image in my head, but you take what you get. Wikimedia lists Averette as the author of the photo.

Like I said in my earlier Citizen Kane post, I can’t say who is a narcissist; I do see some casting Hemingway in this manner. My chapter also involves sacrifice and Hemingway earns allusion for these two quotes I found on GoodReads:

“The best people possess a feeling for beauty, the courage to take risks, the discipline to tell the truth, the capacity for sacrifice. Ironically, their virtues make them vulnerable; they are often wounded, sometimes destroyed.”
― Ernest Hemingway
“When you love you wish to do things for. You wish to sacrifice for. You wish to serve.”
― Ernest Hemingway, A Farewell to Arms

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The Bright Side of Human Sacrifice


A nun in the 1600’s saw the good in human sacrifice and an idiot Bishop could not handle the truth. I want to try and explain this to the bishop brained people, out there, what Sor Juana Inés de la Cruz meant. The Aztecs performed human sacrifice in good intent, but in mistaken belief. In the plant world, death does bring life. Humans come from egg, not seeds and a body planted in the ground does not spring forth human life. You do get some fertilizer; which, eventually feeds our idiotic masses.

The nun tried to explain how her fellow Catholics killed for much the same reason as the natives. Look at a gold or silver cross and see the Aztec “Blood Diamond.” Natives performed human sacrifice, so their god would provide the food and minerals. The Spanish enslaved and killed for those very same things. The good Sister saw this and the bad Bishop punished her for this insight.

A sacrificial victim may have seen a bright side in their death bringing about a gift from god. Catholic Conquistadors brought death, but did they give honor? I agree with the Catholic nun and side with natives on this honor issue.

I tried to explain this better because of the rancher’s comments (today’s news) on slavery. Human sacrifice and slavery are wrong, but there is often a little “but” attached to complex issues. Common laborers deserve higher esteem. Work has a purpose and gives a purpose. Hope comes with progress. How many see more hope in the lottery than in hard work? The Aztecs saw purpose in sacrifice. Did a cotton picker see purpose? Maybe they still saw no hope? Horace King rose from slavery. Did others? Did African-Americans lose when the North won the war? We will never know, but …

If a “Late Night” comedy shows asked regular people on the street whether people come from eggs, seeds, or nuclear fission; how may would give the right answer? Are people really any smarter than those Natives practicing human sacrifice. Is ignorance, a permanent human condition?

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Pointing Fingers at Narcissism


Citizen Kane points the finger at William Randolph Hearst. Orson Welles places. Xanadu, the megalomaniac’s estate in Florida; Hearst in reality lived in California. Florida has often given shelter to the poor mega rich megalomaniacs during harsh winters. The Standard Oil magnates, Flagler and Rockefeller, both built cottages Rolling on the floor laughing in Florida. Ringling’s home, Cà d’Zan, won the best name for a mansion in Florida category.

I don’t know who is a narcissist and who isn’t, but power often corrupts to some degree. Need for a Xanadu setting to use in my Narcissus based chapter gave way to this post. Mansions often mirror the ego. I’m no expert on grand descriptions and these homes might give insight.. I need something with Aztec styling, so some ideas may come from somewhere else.

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In Search of the Epic Chapter

Complete Version of ye Three Blind Mice by John W Ivimey Illustrator Walton Corbould

I give praise (Loa) to the Divine Narcissus and Sister (Sor) Juana Inés de la Cruz. My search for the foundation; on which, to rebuild a certain chapter in my novel may have come to an end. I knew Narcissus held a role, but I only heard garbled yodeling, from the muses, echoing in the wrinkled gray of my brain. Fear strikes me this chapter needs to capture something important. Maybe a long walk in nature will clear the lingering fog. I have bearings, I just need to trudge forward.

The image comes from John W. Ivimey’s, “Complete Version of ye Three Blind Mice,” with Illustration by Walton Corbould. It captures the smirk and the blind eyes of Narcissus; the full face still hides in shadows.

The Dick Tag and Fem Organization


I get out of order easy. I planned to stay in the fauna category, but my mind went elsewhere. I did miss this snake item, so my departure in thought gave me some accidental help. I get into trouble when things fall into multiple categories. Tiresias can be classified as man, woman, or better yet – a metamorphosis. Hera turned him into a woman after he beat his snake (maybe the same thing happened to Michael Jackson — sorry can’t pass up a beat the meat pun). Snakes act as a new life symbol and also falls in to the fauna category that I was supposed to be organizing

I mean no harm in saying I need a woman in my life to act as secretary. I’m straight and the person who compliments me best is someone with secretarial skills. I am sure some women need a man with secretarial skills, but they don’t get into trouble with feminists for saying what best fits their needs. I’m guessing one of the two snakes is male and the other is female, but personality type trumps gender in who makes the best secretary.

I also see Tiresias as a Hermes type. She/he (notice I wrote it as female-slash-male even though putting the male first means no difference in my mind, I’m not mean). Tiresias also comes under possum because she/he is a main character in the T. S. Eliot’s poem, The Wasteland, and Eliot goes by the name – Old Possum.

My category and tag system is a mess because I get flustered in making these secretarial judgments, but feminist would get mad at me for using the word, “flustered,” on a woman instead of myself. I’m sorry I come in peace to those from Venus who wear the red of Mars. Now please someone tell me which category this goes under: humor, frustration, feminists, war and peace, snakes, possums, or even cats because the musical Cats comes from a piece of Eliot’s work and I have already written about the cat and snake connection.

I read there is some problem with throwing too many tags onto one post. Maybe I should have just one tag – junk. It seems many feminists see my junk (penis) as junk, so maybe a penis can make them happy if put in their junk (as in trunk – more fun with euphemisms). Dick is another euphemism for penis if people do not get my title. I just want to know where the Dick tag goes, all I know is who will have the blue balls.

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I Must Ascend


I am renaming John Travolta’s pose, in Saturday Night Fever; I now name thee — the “I Must Ascend pose.” I  thought up the name when I stumbled on William Orpen’s painting (top left) “Sowing New Seed.” The artist’s fertility symbolism is simple, but superb.

“I must ascend,” says the one child,

No, please stay with me brother,” says the other.

The Parabiago Plate has two little people striking a similar pose (lower right portion of the lower image). The plate depicts a fertility rite and I’m 100% certain that pose says, “I must ascend.”

Do you see Kismet in how the pose signaled Travolta’s own ascension? Kismet comes up often in my obsession with Florida, Flora, and Disney. Travolta even lives here in Florida, last I knew. I’m not sure who is writing this book that I call mine. The words, psychic and psycho, often flash across my mind, but psycho rambles inside my skull — way too often. Ponce de Leon even named Florida after the Easter-time festival that was once held for the Roman goddess –Flora.

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