Some say Burke and Hare were Serial Killers who hid their crimes by selling the bodies of their victims off to be used for Medical Research.
These are their Death Masks.
I wonder which ones they wore when they were alive?
The life and death masks of Burke and Hare. Photograph: Paul Kelbie/Observer
Reflecting the biblical account of the Fall of Man, the snake-entwined figure epitmoizes evil and sensuality
I was in search of a Good Mourning Comic, but this picture from the artist Franz Von Stuck was the way to go.
The Seattle Times, in their review of Von Stuck’s work which was being shown at the Frye Museum in Seattle ( and I was lucky enough to see- Thanks Colleen!) was described as ” Spooky, Sinful and Seductive “
Why wouldn’t you know it.
Those are my favorite topics to write about.
In Von Stuck’s work I found it interesting that the less than holy subjects seemed to be more in charge of their enviroment then the more ” pure ” figures- even to the point to where the models representing all things “spooky and sinful and seductive” seemed to be burning their way into Von Stuck’s and in turn the viewers eyes.
I like that in a monster.
I actually like it in people who are NOT monsters, but that doesn’t happen very often.
Isn’t it said that if someone looks into your eyes for more than twenty seconds they either love you or want to kill you? So I guess that’s why people thinking looking into anyone’s eyes is a sign of aggression. Maybe it is.
Maybe it is.
But when I need a little inspiration or when I just want to look at something that makes my brain and spirit sigh together in harmony I pull out the book ( they call it a catalog ) I bought at The Frye of Von Stuck’s work-
and enjoy.
( Click On The Picture To See More of Von Stuck’s Works)
There are people who make me think too hard in a good way:
They’re funny, strange they know cool things like where to buy Bacon Cupcakes and are double jointed or have glass eyes that they’ll pop out in front of me just so I can see how it looks when they’re not wearing one.
And then there is the rest of the population.
They shoot dogs, wave their angry little fists in the air and screech about how the world sucks without realizing the world does indeed suck the big one when someone is in your face waving their little fist in the air and screaming about how the world sucks.
My Grandfathers were two men who could not be more different- both in looks and temperament.
Do you know what they had in common?
When someone hurt their brain they would look at that person in frank amazement and make them talk some more. And then they’d get around to telling us this truly fantastic story about this crazy person who is free to roam the world and live among normal people and isn’t it great that people with Mental problems don’t get locked up like they used to back in the Dark Ages?
By the time they were done painting this picture of this bitter, or angry or mean or human by biology only- you wanted to meet them, you wanted to see them and all their oddness in their full glory.
When people hurt my brain all I want to do is take a can of Draino, pour it into my ear and burn out every trace of the offender.
I hate it when people hurt my brain.
And if you’re going to do it, I want say.” Hell. At least be interesting while you’re doing it.”
There are better uses for Draino- and my time and I do love a good story.
Post A Day Prompt: Eighth Deadly Sin
It was something to think about: If you could create the Eighth Deadly Sin what would it be?
I felt like a kid in a candy store.
People do so many idiotic things that you could nail them for. I mean where to start?
Okay. Deadly Sin should do what it says. If you commit this sin the consequences are going to be deadly. Plus you’re for sure going to Hell.
So if I could pick a new one I’d stay with the theme. It’d have to be something people do at least one of every single day : wrath, greed, sloth, pride, lust, envy, and gluttony.
Ok. Here it is.
Laughter.
If you laugh you go to Hell. Do not pass Go. Do not collect 200.00
No more laughing when your trying to belittle someone and that laugh, that smile is just one more knife for you to stick in their eye and twist. No more laughing at jokes or movies or happy memories.
And if you do. Boom. You’re in a cuddle puddle with demons. And not the cute ones like they have on the TV show Supernatural.
And if you think so I’d agree: Yes indeed that is twisted and mean.
But isn’t that what the Deadlies are? Don’t we all get angry? Love to eat too much ( Hello Christmas and Thanksgiving ) Aren’t there days when you just don’t want to wear anything but yesterday’s t-shirt and your favorite ripped up jeans or sweatpants? And on those days when you’re not fitting into your favorite outfit don’t tell me you wouldn’t sell a kidney to look like someone on tv.
It’s okay. We’ve all been there.
Seriously. Who decided to make being human not just a sin, but a deadly one?
But this is my blog and my post and my response to the prompt and I have made Laughter The Eighth Deadly Sin.
You just laughed at that didn’t you?
Uh Oh. Uh Oh For You To The Max.
Mourning Comic From The Bones
Before he died my friend and I talked about writing.
To be exact, he told me he was dying and then he told me he had about a year if he was lucky and then we talked about writing.
As a writer and in his conversations he didn’t toss off clever phrases and he didn’t put little spins on the language. He didn’t play with the language to impress.
What had was the gift ot undertand people. He understood how we were connected together through our experiences and friendships. He could map them and tell stories about them.
He could have been another F Scott Fitzgerald I think.
I was not in a position at the time to do much writing. But what I was still able to do was face death. I hate death and I won’t let it chase me away from being near the ones I love who I am soon to lose or have lost. So sure, I can talk about the future with a dying man.
So like I said we were talking about writing.
He wanted to write the next great American Novel and I said I was writing a story about Werewolves because I wasn’t brave enough to write about Racism. I told him I didn’t think it would fly because every time I brought it up I heard the same thing. ” I’m not racist. I hate everybody. Racism doesn’t exist anymore.”
” You know who says that? ” I asked my friend.
My friend, who was a big burly Scotsman who could tell one hell of a good story said. ” Sure. Racists. The ones with their heads up their…”
” Yeah well. I’ve already been tracked by Homeland Security and harassed by White Supremacists . It’s not fun. I’d like to avoid it in the future. So. I’m going Rod Serling and I’m going to write about Werewolves instead.”
” So what’s the problem? You tell a good story about monsters.”
” I think my problem is it should be about racists. Human ones. And the story isn’ t going to let me make it into something else. So I set it aside.”
” Don’t. Write it Anita. Whatever it takes. Just write it.”
My friend died a few months later.
I am still trying to finish that story.
Because I can.
And I won’t stop until I stop.
amm
AYE OR DIE!
Friendships are complicated.
And a little scary.
Irregular Bones 