It's Tuesday and that means it's time to participate in Two Sentence Tuesday. As I type this the originator of TST, Laura Kramarsky who blogs over The Women Of Mystery, has not posted hers, but I'm sure she will.
This week I have been reading the Robert Louis Stevenson classic, Treasure Island to my boys so the excerpt comes from there.
“Doctors is all swabs,” he said; “and that doctor there, why, what do he know about seafaring men? I been in places hot as pitch, and mates dropping round with Yellow Jack, and the blessed land a–heaving like the sea with earthquakes—what to the doctor know of lands like that?—and I lived on rum, I tell you.
And here is a bit of dialogue work from my own pirate story, Plundered Booty.
"You can't blame J.J. or Jesus for this. Neither one of them forced
you to make those bets."
****************
So, on to my day yesterday. There I was at work not ten minutes after clocking in. I take my glasses off to clean them and make a slight adjustment since they felt loose. The next thing I I have two separate and equal pieces in my hand. Doing my best Revenge of The Nerds impression, I tried to tape them together using black electrical tape. No luck.
When that failed I turned to Super Glue. It worked but knowing the frames were on borrowed time I got on the phone and called around until I fount an optometrist willing to see me later that same morning.
It's never a good thing when a doctor of any kind takes one look at one of your body parts and says ," Wow, that's abnormal."
After a lot of looking on her part, squinting into bright lights on mine, she come to the conclusion I have keratoconus in my left eye only. Basically it means I have a thinning and misshapen cornea. And Thursday I go have my cornea mapped so I can be fitted with a specially shaped contact lens.
There is a small 20% according to my research that the cornea will continue to deteriorate and that at some point I'll need a cornea transplant. But I, being of the optimistic sort, have come up with a silver lining even for the worst case scenario, which is blindness in the diseased eye.
I might wind up with a cool pirate patch, which can only help me to sale Plundered Booty. Sure I'll have to get a big gold earring and buy me a parrot to sit on my shoulder but at least then I'll have platform.
And finally there will be an apt explanation for my rum affinity.
Yo, ho me hardees!
Tuesday, March 11, 2008
Monday, March 10, 2008
My Town Monday -- The Road Does Not End
If ever there was a day I couldn't afford to lose an hour it was this one.
The gist is that this is the remains of a great statue called OZYMANDIAS. The plaque claims that Mary Wollstone (the author of Frankenstein) and her husband Percy Shelly discovered the statue in 1819. The small print at the bottom goes on to say the top of the statue was destroyed by kids from Lubbock, Texas after losing to an Amarillo team in a sports competition.
But the legs only appeared in the last ten or so years.
Another recent activity of Stanley's is a project he calls, The Dynamite Museum. Basically the Dynamite museum is a bunch of crazy works of art and saying that resemble road signs. Like the one I showed last week that said ROAD DOES NOT END. Here are a few more.
Like I said, last week , Stanly also has his share of critics and he has had a few scrapes with the law. He once interrupted a weather channel live broadcast about an ice storm that blew through the area. Stanly dressed up as an old mountain man complete with a coyote carcass draped across his head and he did some kind of Native American snow dance behind the weather channel reporter. They asked him to leave several times but eventually the police had to be summonsed. Stanley was also was once charged with kidnapping after supposedly locking a teenager up in a chicken coup on his property. the boy came from another well-to-do Amarillo family and the case was settle out of court.
I would not say I know Stanley but her did come into the feedstore where I once worked, and while a bit different he was always entertaining and courteous. He also owned the local ABC affiliate for a while. Along with his wife, Wendy, who comes across much more straight-laced Mr. Marsh has donated to a variety of causes. Land for a Catholic Church and for a Private School and the Marsh's established an endowment at the Texas Tech School of Health.
Should you want to know more about Stanley Marsh 3 there is an award winning documentary titled, The Road Does Not End. Click here to visit that website.
Some hate him, others tolerate him, but either way you have to admit, Stanley Marsh is a true American original. In my opinion the world needs more people willing, or crazy enough, to break out of the pack and howl at the moon, or the sun, or simply the sky. Otherwise we'd all get bored.
As usual, leave me a comment if you post about your town and I'll link you below.
My Fellow -- My Town Monday -- Marauders
Tiggysmum70 -- Gets fancy with a video about Louisville, Ohio.
Word Vixen -- Blogs about a writer's conference in Lancaster, Pennsylvania
Lana Gramlich -- Paints a picture of Abita Springs, Louisiana's art scene.
Barrie Summy -- Take the plunge on San Diego, California's Big Dipper.
Debbie Lou -- Offers up a hot little number on Bishops Stortford, England.
Josephine Damian -- Shares the Paine of New Rochelle, New York. Thomas Paine that is.
Carleen Brice -- Spreads some love for her fellow Denver, Colorado area writers.
Britta Coleman -- Is making Al Gore proud in Fort Worth, Texas.
Patti Abbott -- Is away from Detroit and rubbing our noses with a a bit of Florida sand.
The Anti-Wife -- Looks at her idealistic childhood in Anna, Illinois.
Lyzzydee -- Drink in the water at Wellwyn Garden City, England.
Alex Keto -- Our resident globetrotter reminisces about his days as a foreign journalist in Amsterdam.
Debra -- Introduces us to Village of Peninsula nestled in Ohio's Cuyahoga Valley.
I curse you Daylight Savings Time!
Within the first ten minutes this morning I'd stubbed both of my pinky toes. I blame the unbalance created by the shift in time.
I double curse you Daylight Savings Time!
Next week is spring break and I plan to make a break south with my family, so there will be no My Town Monday from me, but feel free to carry on in my absence and if someone wished to take up my slack and post links to all participants let me know and I'll pass that info along in a post later this week.Now for My Town Monday part II of about Amarillo's eccentric millionaire, Stanley March 3. Part one is here.
Stanley refers to his residence as Toad HALL and this is a shot of the sign near his gate.
This sign is posted along the western ridge line of his residence. Why he felt compelled to erect this is anyone's guess. The letters are probably fifteen or twenty foot high.
Last week I posted a picture of some strange looking legs. These concrete legs now have an addition to them - SOCKS. Here is a pic I took only this week.
Yes, this is another of Stanley's creations, though it often spawns confusion since he went as far as to include a historical marker that mirrors the appearance of those used by the state of Texas. Here is a shot of the plaque, but I'm not sure if y'all will be able to read it.
The gist is that this is the remains of a great statue called OZYMANDIAS. The plaque claims that Mary Wollstone (the author of Frankenstein) and her husband Percy Shelly discovered the statue in 1819. The small print at the bottom goes on to say the top of the statue was destroyed by kids from Lubbock, Texas after losing to an Amarillo team in a sports competition.
But the legs only appeared in the last ten or so years.
Another recent activity of Stanley's is a project he calls, The Dynamite Museum. Basically the Dynamite museum is a bunch of crazy works of art and saying that resemble road signs. Like the one I showed last week that said ROAD DOES NOT END. Here are a few more.
Like I said, last week , Stanly also has his share of critics and he has had a few scrapes with the law. He once interrupted a weather channel live broadcast about an ice storm that blew through the area. Stanly dressed up as an old mountain man complete with a coyote carcass draped across his head and he did some kind of Native American snow dance behind the weather channel reporter. They asked him to leave several times but eventually the police had to be summonsed. Stanley was also was once charged with kidnapping after supposedly locking a teenager up in a chicken coup on his property. the boy came from another well-to-do Amarillo family and the case was settle out of court.
I would not say I know Stanley but her did come into the feedstore where I once worked, and while a bit different he was always entertaining and courteous. He also owned the local ABC affiliate for a while. Along with his wife, Wendy, who comes across much more straight-laced Mr. Marsh has donated to a variety of causes. Land for a Catholic Church and for a Private School and the Marsh's established an endowment at the Texas Tech School of Health.
Should you want to know more about Stanley Marsh 3 there is an award winning documentary titled, The Road Does Not End. Click here to visit that website.
Some hate him, others tolerate him, but either way you have to admit, Stanley Marsh is a true American original. In my opinion the world needs more people willing, or crazy enough, to break out of the pack and howl at the moon, or the sun, or simply the sky. Otherwise we'd all get bored.
As usual, leave me a comment if you post about your town and I'll link you below.
My Fellow -- My Town Monday -- Marauders
Tiggysmum70 -- Gets fancy with a video about Louisville, Ohio.
Word Vixen -- Blogs about a writer's conference in Lancaster, Pennsylvania
Lana Gramlich -- Paints a picture of Abita Springs, Louisiana's art scene.
Barrie Summy -- Take the plunge on San Diego, California's Big Dipper.
Debbie Lou -- Offers up a hot little number on Bishops Stortford, England.
Josephine Damian -- Shares the Paine of New Rochelle, New York. Thomas Paine that is.
Carleen Brice -- Spreads some love for her fellow Denver, Colorado area writers.
Britta Coleman -- Is making Al Gore proud in Fort Worth, Texas.
Patti Abbott -- Is away from Detroit and rubbing our noses with a a bit of Florida sand.
The Anti-Wife -- Looks at her idealistic childhood in Anna, Illinois.
Lyzzydee -- Drink in the water at Wellwyn Garden City, England.
Alex Keto -- Our resident globetrotter reminisces about his days as a foreign journalist in Amsterdam.
Debra -- Introduces us to Village of Peninsula nestled in Ohio's Cuyahoga Valley.
Friday, March 7, 2008
The Great Bunny Bash
Back in November and December I blogged about my year in hell as a Mall Santa. I made mention then that I also donned the rabbit suit and portrayed the Easter Bunny.
Beign that it is the seventh of March, spring is officially only two weeks away, and Easter is just a hope farther away, this seems like a good day to tell one of my Bunny Funnies.
I'll start by saying I enjoyed playing the Easter Bunny a thousand times more than I did Santa. The parents were a thousand times more relaxed, the crowds were much thinner, and being locked away inside the rabbit suit provide a bit of anonymity that the beard and padded red suit did not provide.
One huge drawback however was the heat. There were times that the interior of the rabbit head was hot enough to bake biscuits in. Especially when the sun wuld bean in through the glass skylight of the mall.
Also my friend and former boss, that ran the operation had to special order a longer suit for me and even with that the pants were barely long enough to reach me furry feet so the suit gave me a constant wedgie. And let me tell you digging a cottonball out of your crack can get mighty tiresome. Not to mention traumatizing for any kids watching.
Actually my size alone scared lots of the kids so most of the time I remained seated in my pastel throne to neutralize my height. I'm six-five, but the way the head worked was that the wearer looked out through a screen mesh behind the bunny's bucked teeth. That meant with the long face and giant ears the tip of my version of the Easter Bunny towered in right at NINE FEET TALL. That's a long way up for a little kid. Now you know why I sat when I could.
The year I did this there were two of us that worked the evening shift. Myself, and an older fellow, named Clyde, who was a postal supervisor by day. Clyde wasn't my boss but we worked near each other and got along just fine. Least we did before The Bunny Bashing Episode.
Here's how it went down ...
It was a slow weekday night. Unlike with Santa parents didn't keep their small children out late just to see the Easter Bunny. But as usual there were quit a few teens meandering around the mall and a couple of fifteen or sixteen year old boys ended up leaning against the white picket fence that surrounded the bunny throne.
After a bit they started heckling me.
"Hey you!" One of them shouted. "The dude in the rabbit suit!"
Galen, the man who took the pictures and ran things was busy talking to the only customer we'd had in half an hour. His focus was on hte pictures he was trying to print.
"Hey you! What kind of dork wears a rabbit suit?" the boys laughed. "Little doofus cottontail! I asked you a question.What kind of dork wears a rabbit suit?"
I stood up.
"Ooooh a big dork." They laughed again.
Ever so slyly I waved at the lone little girl to my left with one hand while using my giant head to hide the other hand I flipped a bird at the two boys.
"Ahhh, you just got dissed by the Easter bunny," said the one who'd kept quiet.
"Did you flip me off?"
Still waving again I did it again to remove any doubt to what they had seen.
They one boy slapped the other on the back and teased him as they walked away.
But, that is not where this story ends.
Two mornings later, I'm sittting at the break room at work when Clyde walks in. His head is listing to one side like a sinking ship as he sits down across from me and says, "Be glad you didn't have last night's shift."
"Why? Was y'all busy?"
"No, I got attacked."
Just as we we closing a teenage boy ran up and started punching. And with that top heavy head I couldn't maintain my balance, much less see him. He must hav ehit me a dozen times before Galen chased him off." Clyde slowly kneed his sore neck. "I don't even know what he was yelling about. Something about me flipping him."
Yes, once I stopped laughing I did confess my crime, and these days me and Clyde still laugh about him taking one for the team.
By the way I have one more really good Easter Bunny story and then maybe another post of humorous anecdotes and one-liners. I'll try to get them up within the next few weeks.
Also, I've gotten a few emails lately asking if any of my stories are available in print. The only bit of my work still available for human consumption is the short story I sold to Underground Voices late last year. Click here to read it , if you missed the link the first time around.
Beign that it is the seventh of March, spring is officially only two weeks away, and Easter is just a hope farther away, this seems like a good day to tell one of my Bunny Funnies.
I'll start by saying I enjoyed playing the Easter Bunny a thousand times more than I did Santa. The parents were a thousand times more relaxed, the crowds were much thinner, and being locked away inside the rabbit suit provide a bit of anonymity that the beard and padded red suit did not provide.
One huge drawback however was the heat. There were times that the interior of the rabbit head was hot enough to bake biscuits in. Especially when the sun wuld bean in through the glass skylight of the mall.
Also my friend and former boss, that ran the operation had to special order a longer suit for me and even with that the pants were barely long enough to reach me furry feet so the suit gave me a constant wedgie. And let me tell you digging a cottonball out of your crack can get mighty tiresome. Not to mention traumatizing for any kids watching.
Actually my size alone scared lots of the kids so most of the time I remained seated in my pastel throne to neutralize my height. I'm six-five, but the way the head worked was that the wearer looked out through a screen mesh behind the bunny's bucked teeth. That meant with the long face and giant ears the tip of my version of the Easter Bunny towered in right at NINE FEET TALL. That's a long way up for a little kid. Now you know why I sat when I could.
The year I did this there were two of us that worked the evening shift. Myself, and an older fellow, named Clyde, who was a postal supervisor by day. Clyde wasn't my boss but we worked near each other and got along just fine. Least we did before The Bunny Bashing Episode.
Here's how it went down ...
It was a slow weekday night. Unlike with Santa parents didn't keep their small children out late just to see the Easter Bunny. But as usual there were quit a few teens meandering around the mall and a couple of fifteen or sixteen year old boys ended up leaning against the white picket fence that surrounded the bunny throne.
After a bit they started heckling me.
"Hey you!" One of them shouted. "The dude in the rabbit suit!"
Galen, the man who took the pictures and ran things was busy talking to the only customer we'd had in half an hour. His focus was on hte pictures he was trying to print.
"Hey you! What kind of dork wears a rabbit suit?" the boys laughed. "Little doofus cottontail! I asked you a question.What kind of dork wears a rabbit suit?"
I stood up.
"Ooooh a big dork." They laughed again.
Ever so slyly I waved at the lone little girl to my left with one hand while using my giant head to hide the other hand I flipped a bird at the two boys.
"Ahhh, you just got dissed by the Easter bunny," said the one who'd kept quiet.
"Did you flip me off?"
Still waving again I did it again to remove any doubt to what they had seen.
They one boy slapped the other on the back and teased him as they walked away.
But, that is not where this story ends.
Two mornings later, I'm sittting at the break room at work when Clyde walks in. His head is listing to one side like a sinking ship as he sits down across from me and says, "Be glad you didn't have last night's shift."
"Why? Was y'all busy?"
"No, I got attacked."
Just as we we closing a teenage boy ran up and started punching. And with that top heavy head I couldn't maintain my balance, much less see him. He must hav ehit me a dozen times before Galen chased him off." Clyde slowly kneed his sore neck. "I don't even know what he was yelling about. Something about me flipping him."
Yes, once I stopped laughing I did confess my crime, and these days me and Clyde still laugh about him taking one for the team.
By the way I have one more really good Easter Bunny story and then maybe another post of humorous anecdotes and one-liners. I'll try to get them up within the next few weeks.
Also, I've gotten a few emails lately asking if any of my stories are available in print. The only bit of my work still available for human consumption is the short story I sold to Underground Voices late last year. Click here to read it , if you missed the link the first time around.
Thursday, March 6, 2008
A slice of my life.
It's snowing here today, and like light, wispy flakes in the wind, my mind is drifting about. As I type this I have no idea where this post is going.
right now I'm sitting in a coffee show doing a bit of work on Plundered Booty, waiting on the other members of my critique group to show up in a bit. A guy with a large tattoo on his leg (yes it is snow and cold out but he has shorts on)is talking about a boxing tournament he is entering down in Dallas. The guy he met here is saying he will go along and wrap his hands.
The guy beside me is siing cofee from a metallic cup and reading a book titled Everyday Theology. He looks preacherly, but seems unfazed that the boxer and pal are now describing someone as a pussy.
Two tables over a girl is talking about some guy with gorguos eyes but I can only hear every third or fourth word.
Do any of these people realize just how close they are to winding up in a scene of mine somewhere down the road. Would they recognize themselves after I got through distorting the snatched of their conversations. Are they wondering about the lone guy in the corner typing away?
Can this post get any worse? On to something else.
************
On the way here I heard an interesting song called Cheney's Toy.
The song is erformed and written by James McMurtry, the son of author Larry McMurtry.
My interpretation is that the song is about President Bush but acording to the DJ on Sirius some listeners called and complained the last time he aired the song. They apparently thought the song was disrespectful to American Soldiers. But to me it is clearly a musical critique of W.
Check it out here. You can listen to it for free and it may even be a free download. What is your take?
**************
The boxer, his friend, and reacher man are all gone. Now I am surrounded by some kind of sales meeting. I tried to listen but they bored me rather quickly. Snow is still falling outside and my fellow writers should be here soon. One of those is this lady. Check out her blog post on rituals of reading an writing.
**************
A check of my email finds this which made me smile because they are very true.
right now I'm sitting in a coffee show doing a bit of work on Plundered Booty, waiting on the other members of my critique group to show up in a bit. A guy with a large tattoo on his leg (yes it is snow and cold out but he has shorts on)is talking about a boxing tournament he is entering down in Dallas. The guy he met here is saying he will go along and wrap his hands.
The guy beside me is siing cofee from a metallic cup and reading a book titled Everyday Theology. He looks preacherly, but seems unfazed that the boxer and pal are now describing someone as a pussy.
Two tables over a girl is talking about some guy with gorguos eyes but I can only hear every third or fourth word.
Do any of these people realize just how close they are to winding up in a scene of mine somewhere down the road. Would they recognize themselves after I got through distorting the snatched of their conversations. Are they wondering about the lone guy in the corner typing away?
Can this post get any worse? On to something else.
************
On the way here I heard an interesting song called Cheney's Toy.
The song is erformed and written by James McMurtry, the son of author Larry McMurtry.
My interpretation is that the song is about President Bush but acording to the DJ on Sirius some listeners called and complained the last time he aired the song. They apparently thought the song was disrespectful to American Soldiers. But to me it is clearly a musical critique of W.
Check it out here. You can listen to it for free and it may even be a free download. What is your take?
**************
The boxer, his friend, and reacher man are all gone. Now I am surrounded by some kind of sales meeting. I tried to listen but they bored me rather quickly. Snow is still falling outside and my fellow writers should be here soon. One of those is this lady. Check out her blog post on rituals of reading an writing.
**************
A check of my email finds this which made me smile because they are very true.
'True' Friendship
Enough of that Sissy Crap!
Are you tired of those sissy 'friendship' poems that always sound good, but never actually come close to reality? Well, here is a series of promises that actually speak of true friendship.
You will see no cutesy little smiley faces here - just the stone cold truth of our great friendship.
1. When you are sad -- I will help you get drunk and plot revenge against the sorry bastard who made you sad.
2. When you are blue -- I will try to dislodge whatever is choking you.
3. When you smile -- I will know you are plotting something that I must be involved in.
4. When you are scared -- I will rag on you about it every chance I get.
5. When you are worried -- I will tell you horrible stories about how much worse it could be, until you quit whining.
6. When you are confused -- I will use little words.
7. When you are sick -- I will tell you to stay the hell away from me until you are well again. I don't want whatever you have.
8. When you fall -- I will point and laugh at your clumsy ass.
This is my oath....
I pledge it to the end.
'Why?' you may ask.
'Because you're my friend!'
Tuesday, March 4, 2008
Trio of Dealios
Remember that Beck song, Two Turntables and a Microphone?
Well, today's post is my blogging equivalent, Two Meme's and a Weekly Feature.
First the weekly feature. The fine gals over at Women of Mystery have started Two Sentence Tuesday. the deal is you post two sentences you've read in the preceding week and two sentence you wrote. (could be from a work in progress, or an email, or an excuse for your kid to miss P.E. class - doesn't matter ass long as your wrote it) I like the idea and it doesn't take much commitment to post something I've already written or read. And if you've never Checked out Women of Mystery you should.
From Far Tortuga by Peter Matthiessen ...
The wind has slackened but the daybreak sky is a dead yellow that turns the sea to glimmering gray. Bruised masses shroud the sun, and an iron gleam is cast on the wet surface of the deck.
And from my novel in progress, Plundered Booty ...
I hurried through my front door with Lila huffing and puffing right behind me. No doubt the wispy black hairs on her upper lip were quivering beneath her oxygen starved nostrils.
1) I have a reoccurring nightmare where all me teeth crumble and fall out at once. I have read that dreaming this means I have unresolved guilt but I have no earthly idea what I would be that guilty about.
2) I once got in a fight in metal shop class and pushed a kid named Robbie. His hand hit a moving grinding wheel a his knuckled was a bloody mess. No I don't particularly feel guilty about it since he was an ass and had no lasting damage. Besides, picked up trash on campus for an hour every morning before school as penance.
3) I refuse to spend money on greeting cards. Four or five bucks for what? A sentiment you should be able to say to those you love.
4)I can't stomach be in the same room while someone is using a file. Doesn't matter of it's my wife filing her nails or a coworker using a metal file in our maintenance shop at work. the raspiness grates on my very soul.
5) I honestly think I could get in the money if I could afford to play in The World Series of Poker, but the Ten Grand entry fee is beyond my budget. I have won several Texas Hold 'Em tournaments both locally and in Vegas but just once I want to play in the grand daddy of them all. When I finally get a large book deal entering the world series will be my one splurge item.
6) I'll only eat spaghetti and roast beef in the winter because I consider them to be cold-weather foods.
***** An addition ***** I forgot to include my friend Britta Coleman among this week's My Town Monday participants so pop on over here and see what she has to say about life in Fort Worth, Texas.
Well, today's post is my blogging equivalent, Two Meme's and a Weekly Feature.
First the weekly feature. The fine gals over at Women of Mystery have started Two Sentence Tuesday. the deal is you post two sentences you've read in the preceding week and two sentence you wrote. (could be from a work in progress, or an email, or an excuse for your kid to miss P.E. class - doesn't matter ass long as your wrote it) I like the idea and it doesn't take much commitment to post something I've already written or read. And if you've never Checked out Women of Mystery you should.
From Far Tortuga by Peter Matthiessen ...
The wind has slackened but the daybreak sky is a dead yellow that turns the sea to glimmering gray. Bruised masses shroud the sun, and an iron gleam is cast on the wet surface of the deck.
And from my novel in progress, Plundered Booty ...
I hurried through my front door with Lila huffing and puffing right behind me. No doubt the wispy black hairs on her upper lip were quivering beneath her oxygen starved nostrils.
Shauna, over at the Coffee shop also tagged me with a book meme. Here are the rules:
1. Grab the book you are currently reading and turn to p. 123
2. Go to the 5th sentence
3. Post the next 3 sentences
4. Tell the name of the book and author
5. Tag 5 others.
This is dialogue from from Far Tortuga but Peter Matthiessen used no quotation marks.
Last night you hear me say we sailin as three dis mornin, and you wait till I wakes you to oil dem engines? No, mon! Dass no good!
Far Tortuga is an interesting book strangely formatted, but an enjoyable read. At least for me. I have read it before and wanted to reread since I reference it in Plundered Booty.
1) I have a reoccurring nightmare where all me teeth crumble and fall out at once. I have read that dreaming this means I have unresolved guilt but I have no earthly idea what I would be that guilty about.
2) I once got in a fight in metal shop class and pushed a kid named Robbie. His hand hit a moving grinding wheel a his knuckled was a bloody mess. No I don't particularly feel guilty about it since he was an ass and had no lasting damage. Besides, picked up trash on campus for an hour every morning before school as penance.
3) I refuse to spend money on greeting cards. Four or five bucks for what? A sentiment you should be able to say to those you love.
4)I can't stomach be in the same room while someone is using a file. Doesn't matter of it's my wife filing her nails or a coworker using a metal file in our maintenance shop at work. the raspiness grates on my very soul.
5) I honestly think I could get in the money if I could afford to play in The World Series of Poker, but the Ten Grand entry fee is beyond my budget. I have won several Texas Hold 'Em tournaments both locally and in Vegas but just once I want to play in the grand daddy of them all. When I finally get a large book deal entering the world series will be my one splurge item.
6) I'll only eat spaghetti and roast beef in the winter because I consider them to be cold-weather foods.
***** An addition ***** I forgot to include my friend Britta Coleman among this week's My Town Monday participants so pop on over here and see what she has to say about life in Fort Worth, Texas.
Monday, March 3, 2008
My Town Monday -- Eye of The Beholder
It's not a bird .. nor a plane. It's not Superman, or even a flying beagle. Nope, the above picture is your average, everyday floating mesa.
At least that is what it is supposed to look like. Actually it's just a mesa with a white fence built around the top. As you can see in this shot taken a bit closer.
Stanly Marsh the 3rd is the man behind this structure and several more oddities near and in my hometown, of Amarillo, Texas. And yes, I used the numerical version of three on purpose. Stanly has been quoted as saying anyone with a roman numeral after their name is just being pretentious.
Stanly is a man of wealth. His grandfather was one of the early oil and natural gas man of the Texas Panhandle. I'm not exactly sure how old he is but I'd guess upper sixties or early seventies. Here is a picture I found at this site commemorating the 20th anniversary of Sir Stanley's best known project. He's the one in the top hat.
The copy right is owned by ©1995-1996-1997-1998 Rik Gruwez but luckily he doesn't mind sharing.
And here are some shots of that project.
This is the view from I-40 of Cadillac Ranch.
Created in a wheat field back in 1974 this roadside attraction has been long been associated with Amarillo. It is one of the things I'm often asked about when traveling. The cars, all Cadillacs ranging in year models from 1949-1963 are buried intact nose down. They are located on private land(owned by Mr. Marsh but the public is encouraged top walk out and even spray graffiti on the vehicles.) Cadillac Ranch has been the subject of songs by Bruce Springsteen, Chris Ledoux, numerous Texas artists, and the Christian rock band Family Force 5.
It has also been featured in commercial and many movies. Most recently in the Disney Movie Cars. Notice the scenery in and around Radiator Springs and the description on the map which says Cadillac Range. This part of I-40 used to be Route 66 so if you've seen the movie you know why it was used.
Stanley has many other projects and I was going to include some of them in this post, but I think I'll wait and break this down into two parts since it is already getting on the long side. But here are a few teaser pics. I'll explain them and post more shots next Monday.
I will say not everyone in Amarillo has a high opinion of Stanley, his pranks, or art. But I tend to think every town should have a Stanley Marsh the 3rd if for no other reason than to keep things interesting. He's not one to care what other think as is clear by this quote.
"Art is a legalized form of insanity, and I do it very well." ~ Stanley Marsh 3
This post is part of My Town Mondays and sadly, I am the man behind this blogworld oddity. But I'm proud to say many have joined in on my crazy idea. I will link to them below as they post their town's story for the week, so check back over the next few days and learn about other cities and communities all over the globe. And if you wish to join in we'd be glad to have you. Just drop me a line in the comments once you post.
Pattinase -- A look at Detroit, Michigan's Eastern Market.
Sex Scenes at Starbucks -- Belly up to Grand Lake, Colorado's Lariat Bar.
Tiggysmum70 -- A ncie intro to Constitution town,better know as Louisville, Ohio.
Josephine Damian -- Introduces us to New Rochelle, New York with an interesting bit of history.
Ello -- Stroll down the boardwalks at Brooklyn, New York's Coney Island.
Lana Gramlich -- Takes us on a visual tour of Abita Springs, Louisiana
Barrie Summy -- Is getting sealy about a San Diego, California beach (sorry for the bad word play but I couldn't resist)
Word Vixen -- Tells us about a unique store in Lancaster Pennsylvania called the Rhubarb Market, but sadly she doesn't mention Rhubarb Pie.
DebbieLou -- The pubs and spirits of Bishops Stortford, England
Laura Kramarsky -- Last week at the Women of Mystery blog Terrie Farley Moran gave us a look at Book Row in NYC. This week Laura tells us what it was like to be a young book lover in East Hampton, New York.
Lyzzydee -- A look at a Welwyn Garden City, England landmark.
Alex Keto -- Dives into the murky depths of Silver Spring, Maryland.
The Anti-Wife -- Gives a detailed look at her childhood in Southern Illinois.
Britta Coleman -- Hot Dogs and politics. Does life get any more American than hers in Fort Worth, Texas.
Sunday, March 2, 2008
Reminder
This post is nothing more than a quick reminder that tomorrow is Monday, in case you plan to participate in My Town Monday. As usual I'll post my later this evening so I can link all of y'all as you post. And don't forget to drop me a line in the comments because that makes it much easier for me to know when you post.
Also don't hesitate to link to the other participants as well. I'm sure everyone would appreciate the extra traffic. And thanks to all you have linked to me these post Mondays. the last two edition of MTMs have been the largest volume days ever for my blog.
This will I will be talking about a unique Amarilloan. He's been the subject of documentaries, been arrested, criticized. Called an eccentric millionaire, an art lover, and simply call him crazy, but no one in these parts can say they've never heard of the man, or his projects. Check back later for more, including pictures.
To see the first two My town posts or if you have no idea what I'm rambling on about, click here ... Numero Uno and Numero Dos.
Also don't hesitate to link to the other participants as well. I'm sure everyone would appreciate the extra traffic. And thanks to all you have linked to me these post Mondays. the last two edition of MTMs have been the largest volume days ever for my blog.
This will I will be talking about a unique Amarilloan. He's been the subject of documentaries, been arrested, criticized. Called an eccentric millionaire, an art lover, and simply call him crazy, but no one in these parts can say they've never heard of the man, or his projects. Check back later for more, including pictures.
To see the first two My town posts or if you have no idea what I'm rambling on about, click here ... Numero Uno and Numero Dos.
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