Salvador Dali lived from 1904 to 1989 and is best known for his surreal paintings, many of which have ended up at the Dali Museum in Saint Petersburg. Longtime friends of Salvador and Gala Dali, Reynolds and Eleanor Morse donated their collection to the original museum in Ohio in 1971. It was moved to Florida in 1982. The current building opened in 2011.

​Artists often bring a degree of symbolism to their work, though some deny it. Others are mysterious about the meanings or insist that one must find their own meaning. Sometimes the meaning is obvious. Sometimes it is hidden. Dali’s work is overflowing with symbolism and fortunately for us he made much of its meaning known through various writings, such as his 1942 autobiography The Secret Life of Salvador Dali. The wealth of information available is staggering; I’m still trying to process it.

Wandering through the nooks of the museum hall, I was able to discern several patterns once they were pointed out to me. Many paintings have layers of detail to them, with foreground and background elements combining to make more subtle images. Many are faces. Images that arise in multiple paintings include grasshoppers, flies, overhead views of the crucifixion, partial images borrowed from other artists, and more than anything else his wife Gala. She ends up in everything. Some symbols are more subtle. It was recently discovered that the shadows in one painting line up reveal the light source not to be the sun, but his wife’s face. Was this intentional? What else might be waiting to be discovered that Dali has not told us? He did once say that when people start seriously studying his work they will realize what is currently known is just the tip of the iceberg.

Dali was influenced by Van Gogh, Picasso, Christianity, twentieth-century discoveries in physics, and especially Freud. His paintings are often adventures in psychoanalysis and his family life gave him plenty of material. His mother was a Catholic and his father was an atheist who thought he was throwing his life away by painting weird stuff. His older brother of the same name died before Salvador was born, making him feel as if he was a replacement and never really his own person. In A Portrait of my Dead Brother, a mixture of light cherries and dark cherries represent the contributions of both Salvadors as they merge to create a single face. I have no idea what that bird is about.

Some of his paintings remind me of dreams in the way that one thing connects to another, which connects to another in a way that doesn’t seem to remain consistent with the first or with the whole. For lack of a better term, they are illogical. The difference is that when I wake up, my conscious mind imposes an order on what little I remember in order to make sense of it, while with the paintings I see the whole all at once and I am not allowed to impose my order on them (it would require a lot of chopping). Overall, I didn’t see one that I can say I really liked, though A Portrait of my Dead Brother was my favorite. Now that I think of it, my second favorite is Gala Contemplating the Mediterranean Which at Twenty Meters Becomes the Face of Abraham Lincoln, but I didn’t think to get a picture while I was there. They all lacked a certain balance. If a few of the cherries are linked to show the two Salvadors are the same person, why aren’t they all linked? I find the transitions too abrupt. Still, the more I think about them, the more I see the enormous potential they have if slightly tweaked. I do love symbolic art.

The museum has audio device guide options or you can wait for the next docent. Both are available at no extra charge. There is also a gift shop and café. In addition to Dali, the museum often features other artists on a rotating basis. It also has some interesting architecture and views of the bay. Outside is a cactus garden and hedge maze where people leave their wristband tickets on one of two trees – one at the entrance and one at the center. It’s sort of a way to connect with others that have gone through the same mind-bending experience even if you have never met.

1 Dali Boulevard, Saint Petersburg, Florida

​This is a poem I wrote in 2013. I imagine all of my poetry set to music but I am rarely able to come up with my own tunes. The chorus I imagine set to the tune of To Be With You by Mr. Big.

​Livin' on lies and broken dreams
Bad mistakes, insults, and blame
Is it you, or is it them?
Either way, you're not the same

No one understands you
Nothing left but doubt and pain
Is it them, or is it you?
Either way, you're not the same

I miss you
I miss you when you're gone
And I miss you when you're not you

I'm not trying to feed you a line
I'm not even asking you to be mine
Any guy would be lucky to have you and so,
I just wanted to let you know

Please just be yourself
Please do it as a favor to me
'Cause I know what I like
And there are worse things you could be

I might not be right for you
Truth is, I'm not sure you're right for me
But I know what I like
And there are worse things you could be

I miss you
I miss you when you're gone
And I miss you when you're not you

I'm not trying to feed you a line
I'm not even asking you to be mine
Any guy would be lucky to have you and so,
I just wanted to let you know

Once upon a time, Honeymoon Island in Dunedin, Florida was known as Hog Island and was owned by a pig farmer. Then a hurricane flooded the land and cut the channel known as Hurricane Pass. The former southern half of the island was renamed Caladesi and the former northern half was developed as a getaway for newlyweds. Honeymoon Island was born. It later became a state park. It is accessed by causeway.
​
The north of Honeymoon Island is split, forming Pelican Cove between the east and west arms. I first explored the eastern arm, which faces the mainland. I saw several nests in the trees. Ospreys and vultures were all over the place. There were even bald eagles. From October until May that section of the trail is closed so as not to disturb them. I also saw a moth sitting in a bush. It had an iridescent, hairy back that reminded me of a hummingbird.

Returning to the playground parking lot to eat, I saw a tortoise. So did the playground kids. They got enormous pleasure from watching it eat the grass, and I watched them watch it. When I finished, I headed for the west side of the island and walked north along the beach.

​I could not find a high tide line and judging by the shells and seaweed strewn everywhere, I suspect that the entire western arm is submerged on a daily basis. The sand was moist and large gullies led into Pelican cove from among the mangroves. I planned on hiking to the northern tip and back, but I found much to distract me and eventually ran out of sunlight. There was a path part of the way between two groves of trees and numerous doorways cut into them leading to some stunningly beautiful places.

The water smelled like eggs. The mud came in hues of purple and green. The nearly bare trees, lack of undergrowth, and bright white sand reminded me very much of a snowy forest up north. It was exciting to find these secluded places that I had to share with no one but a few ibises.

​Shells also distracted me. I don’t know that I’ve ever seen such variety before. There were some that were quite large and most were unbroken. Many had barnacle shells stuck to them. Some were full of holes. I’m used to seeing holes in shells but usually it’s just one or two. The colors were mind-boggling. It doesn’t take much to boggle my mind, I guess. The photographs barely capture what my eyes saw in direct sunlight. There was a black pen shell with green and purple shine – like oil floating on water. There was a shell boring white on the outside and brilliant purple inside. I like to leave most shells behind for others to find, but this one was too good not to take home and show everybody I knew. Unfortunately, at home it became an ordinary shell. I am used to shells looking different when dry and under artificial light, but I have never seen this great of a difference!

​There were also thousands of squishy, pea-sized objects everywhere. I thought at the time that they were seaweed floatation bladders that had broken off, since I sometimes found them among the seaweed, but now I’m not so sure. Do you know what they are?

Eventually the sun went down and I had to leave the beach before I had finished exploring. I was disappointed that I had encountered zero rattlesnakes, which the park signs had promised/warned me about. Passing through the playground back to my car I did see an armadillo digging up the lawn. Here are some other things I saw:

Located on the barrier island of Sand Key is Sand Key Park, which I visited in January. There is a playground, some trees, grassy areas, and a trail, but my visit started out as a bit boring. Finally, I took my chair out on the beach and just sat in the sun and wind. It wasn’t very crowded. I tried to read, but the book I had brought was also boring. I’m horrible at planning. That was when I started to walk around and noticed all the shells. There were a lot of shells both pretty and strange. Some were quite large. There were also numerous sponges and large bits of coral washed up all around me.
​
Inspiration struck and I started building sand castles. I made one with inner passages hidden by doors made from large shells. The other two castles somehow became sand volcanoes. I used sponges for the central fountains of lava in the craters, and red seaweed for the lava flowing down the sides. Broken red stalks of sea whips became the arcs of hot rocks thrown from the top. I lost all track of time.

​While scrounging for more red seaweed to finish my lava flows, I came across the strange crab shown below. The head is at the pointed end. All the spines point this way. There was much animal life about. Sandpipers ran along the water’s edge, running back and forth to keep out of reach of the waves. Gulls flew by carrying tiny fish in their mouths, screeching the whole way.

​When I finally left just before sunset, I walked along the beach to see what structures others had built. There were castles and even entire citadels. Somebody had even made a giant turtle covered in shells. All Florida beaches are treasures. How can one be bored at a beach?

​1060 Gulf Boulevard, Clearwater, Florida

​This is a poem I literally dreamed up in 2012. I imagine all of my poetry set to music but I am rarely able to come up with my own tunes. This time I might have succeeded. I can’t remember hearing it before though it sounds familiar. It has a Beatles-ish style to it.

​Why am I scared?
Why am I sad?
Why do I feel 'bout to fall?
It's a dre-eam
I'm only asleep after all

Why do I hear laughing?
How did I get lost?
How long has that face been on the wall?
It's a dre-eam
It's just a dream after all

I hear the words on the TV
I read the newspaper
I see people follow the crowds

They promise more of the same
They promise more of the game
I watch them wrestle themselves

Why am I singing?
And why do I care?
And why am I making this call?

I'm hearing a lot of porcine acid out there today
(cheers)
Well, I've got as much porcine acid as anybody
(cheers)
All I'm saying is even someone with a food disorder could've bought that lake, yet it has one of the most hotly contested senate races in the Netherlands.
Let me explain. The world is a round pizza, and we're in one corner right now, but later we'll be in the middle. And then, they'll have to hear us!
(cheers)
I'm for slushies and you can to!
(chanting: slushies! slushies! slushies! slushies!)

One thing about dreams, is they don't make sense
And when you wake up, they're gone

When things are strange, then you know
It's time to go back to bed

It's a dre-eam
I'm only asleep after all

It showcases and sells art from all over Florida, but Florida Craft Art is headquartered right here in Tampa Bay – on Central Avenue in Saint Petersburg to be precise. This is quite possibly the most interesting gallery I have ever been in, which is really saying something considering how good some of the others are. The pieces are so unique, detailed, and brightly-colored. One can easily lose track of the time and spend two hours there, thinking you are in some emperor’s collection from all over the world.

The mission of the organization is to find great artists and introduce them to the community. All art must be three-dimensional (not paintings) and of very high quality. There are the textile abstracts of Leah Gillette, the furniture of David Calvin, the metal-ceramic pieces of Terry Andrews, and the clay sea life sculptures of William Kidd. It was difficult to find a piece I didn’t love.

It’s amazing how something so simple and ethereal can add so much to a place. This transparent silvery curtain is beset with circular patches of intricate design reminding me of bubbles riding a waterfall. It adds a subtle, calming energy to the exhibition room filled with smaller, harder, more colorful objects, rounding out the already incredible variety and making itself the cornerstone of the whole exhibit. It is very different from anything I have ever seen that would normally be called art, but that is what it is. It quickly became my favorite. I had to know who made it and what they called it, but could not find a label. The lady at the counter told me she and another employee had actually made it and they did not have a title for it, telling me to come up with one. After thinking it over a couple days, I have decided to call it The Ghost Planet 1966. If you think you know why, leave a comment below.

The organization provides studios and classes upstairs from its roomy retail gallery and exhibition gallery. It has existed in its current location since 1995 and in Saint Petersburg since 1986, when it was known as Florida Craftsmen.

FloridaCraftArt.org
501 Central Avenue, St. Petersburg, FL

This is a poem I wrote in 2012. When I used to work at McDonald’s, the maintenance guy once spoke (rather than sang) some of the lyrics to Goddamn Devil by Ugly Kid Joe and told me we should make a song for them. Not knowing that the song already existed, I wrote up a new song with different structure and the verses set to the tune of Back In Black by AC/DC. I’m rarely able to come up with my own tunes.

​I'm the God-Damn devil
This job pleases me
I'm The God-Damn Devil
And I do it for free
I'm the God-Damn devil
This job pleases me
I'm The God-Damn Devil
And I do it for free

I don't get dental
I don't get vaca
No company car
Or 401k
There're benefits I'm told
If you do as you should
But I gotta tell ya
It ain't no fun bein' good

I'm the God-Damn devil
This job pleases me
I'm The God-Damn Devil
And I do it for free
I'm the God-Damn devil
This job pleases me
I'm The God-Damn Devil
And I do it for free

I looove my job
The art of sin
With pride on my side
I know I'll always win
I abuse the saints
I collect my souls
I play my fiddle
And I play rock 'n' roll

I'm the God-Damn devil
This job pleases me
I'm The God-Damn Devil
And I do it for free
I'm the God-Damn devil
This job pleases me
I'm The God-Damn Devil
And I do it for free

(repeat chorus twenty times or so)

Government is the use of force. A government with no way to protect itself from other governments (foreign or domestic) cannot long exist. A government without a military or police force will not last long before being replaced by a government with both. Government may also pick up your trash and supply you with water, but not doing these things makes it no less of a government. Government is not just the collective expression of the people. It can be, and perhaps it should be, but a dictatorship is no less of a government.

Government is violent. This is true even when the proscribed punishments for breaking its laws are non-violent. The authorities may fine you, but refuse to pay the fine and they will order you to court. Refuse to show up, and the sheriff will bring you in. Refuse to cooperate with the sheriff, and then the inherent violence of government will show. This subtle threat exists behind every law. If it did not, there would be no incentive to follow the laws, and the only laws that would be followed would be those the people were going to follow anyways even if there were no law.
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This is what most people forget when they call for new legislation: They are endorsing violence against their fellow citizens. They threaten their neighbors in order to get them to obey. Sometimes this is both justified and necessary when our neighbors are destructive, but most people never stop to ask themselves if the tradeoff is worth it. Which is worse? That some people ride without seatbelts or that we make people buckle up at gunpoint? That some people drink too much soda or that officers threaten to shut down businesses that sell it in cups larger than sixteen ounces? That someone might ignite a piece of cloth to make a point or that the state kidnaps and imprisons them for burning the flag? That some people waste time getting high or that we drag stoners into jail so they can waste time there? Does it really cost society so much to allow drug use that we are justified in criminalizing it? There are always tradeoffs. Remember this.

​I visited the Showmen’s Museum in Gibsonton, Florida in November 2016 and it was awesome. It isn’t quite as good as the real thing, but with the lights blinking and the music playing it has that fair atmosphere that I miss. It even has a working Ferris wheel indoors. By the time I left, I was almost skipping down the stairs. In the days before television, movies, and video games, traveling fairs and circuses were prime entertainment. People would wait all year or longer for them. Like trains and bookstores, they hold a special place in our cultural history that will likely persist in some form forever. They kept employed many in society that would likely have had a rough time otherwise, such as midgets, giants, and those with extra limbs. They worked, lived, and travelled together. They really understood what made true entertainment in the old days. Before there were internet cat videos, people put monkeys in tiny cars and rolled them down tracks. Now that’s real entertainment!

​As chance would have it, I arrived the same time as a man who used to work in the industry back in the seventies. He had driven a long ways to check it out. He told me how he used to set up Ferris wheels without hydraulics and explained how many of the games of skill and chance worked. The place brought back many memories for him. I know how he feels. I can imagine I would feel the same way if someone were to open a fast food museum. When you learn every quirk of the equipment and how to work around the fry vat button that sticks or the freezer door that won’t close, it starts to mean something to you. This is the real good the place does, not just as a location to spend a fun afternoon, but a place that keeps alive the stories of those who worked hard to keep the show going, the dreams of every child visiting a fair for the first time, and the rich and interwoven history of an entire industry.