Kari and Sloan, at Burger King
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Mother Nature lover/activist Jerry Weinstock, M.D., Psychiarty, replied to yesterday’s paradise mating, Key West recruitment poster cop, USA War Joy, Inc. post at goodmorningkeywest.com:
Sloan; we will just hope –with you– that Kari gets into rehab. and if so
she will find it compatible with her life’s objectives and her immediate goals
certainly—:.(.one step at a time.) —–Jerry
Kari didn’t do it today. Rehab is up to Kari, can’t say I blame her for not wanting to do it, and ending up in jail and maybe even prison afterward, for probation violation: she wasn’t supposed to drink. I have plenty of alligators and crocodiles of my own nipping at me, having nothing to do with her. Hard to imagine how I can sustain a relationship with a woman, given said alligators and crocodiles.
SLOAN: there is nothing very easy about life ; just don’t get bitten too badly or at all.
you will have to tread so carefully —I am immersed with a load of difficult
stuff of all sorts right now.—I wish us both luck -seriously—Jerry
I replied before dawn this morning:
Hi, Jerry –
I don’t see how to live on this world and not get bitten badly, many times. Avoiding being bitten is avoiding living.
Kari said last night at Bayview Park, that she’s still trying to figure out why we fell in love. I said there is no way to figure that out. The mind has no clue about such matters; as someone once wrote, “The heart has its reasons that reason knows nothing of.”
I went over to Bayview to see Kari, because I missed her, and she had called to say her probation officer had called earlier in the day, demanding a face to face at 8 a.m. today. Kari said, if she had not given me permission to use her name and tell her stories, her probation officer would not know what I published, but since she did give me permission, here we are.
In fact, just my stupid mystic opinion, Kari’s stories, and her and my story, and many of my stories, are far more important, in the human-cosmic sense, than anything I deal with politically in Key West and the Florida Keys.
I told Kari last night, that I’d been having it out with the angels yesterday, for their going about dealing with her troubles in a secular way, when the angels have all along told me there is no secular cure to spiritual disorders. I said, 5 times she’s done rehab, the traditional way, and even more times counting being in jail, and it didn’t stop her from drinking. Confining her again will produce a different result? Isn’t a definition of insanity, doing the same thing over and over, and expecting a different result?
After visiting with Kari yesterday morning and learning she had not gotten onto the city bus and gone to Marathon, to try to get into the Guidance Clinic, I was flooded with the basics of paradise mating, a subject I broached in yesterday’s post, and have broached from time to time in posts at my websites. At the top of the flood yesterday was, if an Adam man and an Eve woman selected by angels to enter a paradise mating ritual stick with it, ride it through, rough as it can be to do that, the fate of humanity is altered; the curse of Eve, re the fall story in Genesis, is undone, it’s gone; humanity can move forward, again.
Of course, I hardly expect anyone to believe that. How could anyone believe that, who has not had my experiences, seen what I have seen, heard what I have heard, felt what I have felt? I told two good vicious van dweller friends at Higgs Beach last night, that 90-95 percent of what I experience, I experience with the angels alone, because when something happens, people see it one way, and I see it another way, because the angels changed me to see it another way.
Kari is on the precipice, the brink, the edge, of seeing most things that happen another way. My friend, Brenda, in north Georgia, sees many things another way, from how everyone else she knows, but me, sees things that happen. That’s what happens to people who, like Brenda, are in shaman training. There is no way a shaman can continue to see life in the way the shaman saw life before shaman training began.
Kari has told me several times, the reason she stopped painting people’s auras, which she is able to see when she takes the time to see their auras, is because she saw one person’s aura, it was red and weird shaped, and she painted it, and a day or so later, that person was killed in an automobile wreck. Kari said she didn’t want to know when people were going to die. She did not want to be the messenger for that. So she quit painting people’s auras.
Kari told me a while back of how a Native American fellow, a Seminole, as I recall, taught her how to do a rain dance. To prepare, required a bird giving her a feather, which she would use in the ceremony. Once she had the bird’s feather, she could do the ceremony anytime, and it would rain. A bird gave her a feather.
Kari said mother was complaining about how dry it was in Missouri. So, Kari did the rain dance, and pointed the feather at the part of Missouri where her mother lived. A deluge came, and it kept coming, and her mother said it was way too much rain, it needed to stop, but Kari didn’t know how to stop it, because she had not asked the Native American how to stop it. Kari said, when she saw him again, she asked if there was a dance to stop the rain, and he said, yes, but she had not asked him how to do that dance, so …
Kari told me last night, after it started raining hard, and we had run for shelter under the awnings at Horace O’Bryant Middle School, across the street from Bayview Park, that she had done a rain dance for Key West the other day.
I had been complaining about having to use Florida Keys Aqueduct Authority water to irrigate my garden plot in the GLEE garden at May Sands School, because I had learned when I gardened on my land on Little Torch Key, that my vegetable plants liked rainwater far better than Aqueduct water, and I had learned the same thing when I had gardened on the mainland: vegetable plants far prefer rainwater to municipal treated water.
The GLEE garden has two rainwater collectors (cisterns), which are attached to pipes, which are attached to the roof gutters, which trap rainwater and fill the cisterns. The cisterns were empty, after so long without rain here. The fresh water lens under the school yard, which for many years has provided fresh water, via a hand pump, was not pumping water. The deluge last night replenished the cisterns, and perhaps the lens.
Let’s take that a bit further. Let’s ponder what a rain dance majeure, even greater than the one Kari produced in Missouri, might do to Key West and the Florida Keys. Let’s ponder a monsoon such as many places on this planet experience for months on end. Let’s ponder the effect that would have on, hmmm, tourism – exponential decrease – :-). Let’s ponder, hmmm, the effect that would have on the local mosquito population – exponential increase. Let’s ponder, hmmm, the effect that would have on ocean salinity, and how that would effect the fishes and sea vegetation.
Yesterday afternoon, a fellow and I intersected on our bicycles, he knew me, but I did knot know him – fame has its ups and downs. He asked what I thought about the genetically-altered mosquitoes, which are getting so much attention today in the Florida Keys? Just today, in the Key West Citizen [keysnews.com], is an article on that. I said, I’d always heard it ain’t smart to fuck with Mother Nature; it ain’t smart to piss her off. Her mosquitoes serve her ends, they are here for a reason, her reason. The fellow said he agreed.
I told Kari last night, before the deluge came, that it makes no sense whatsoever that the angels put her and me together, for us to be controlled by what angels view as having no chance of helping humanity, or us. It goes against all the angels have taught me, for Kari and I to be driven, controlled, by human thinking and ways.
I tell Kari repeatedly, what I told my vicious van dweller criminals at Higgs Beach yesterday afternoon: that angels do not think like human beings, nor does God, and that’s the problem, because human beings try to get angels and God to think like human beings.
This situation I’m in where I am living, which has me moving out at the end of this month and being homeless, is bizarre. I did what any sane person would do. When the Latvian living here with his Latvian wife got drunk and attacked her and this house, I called the cops. And for doing that, and for later that day telling the Latvian I was thinking about reporting him to US Immigration, to have him sent back to Latvia where he belongs, I was told I had to move out. The other men living here sided with the owner of this house. The cops sided with her, when she told them to go away.
Kari said my landlady is nuts. That is correct. I told Kari of when Brenda lived here in the fall of 2005, at my landlady’s request. My landlady had told me that she needed help with housekeeping and yard work, to get the house and grounds back in shape, after taking 3 1/2 feet of saltwater during Hurricane Wilma. I, too, lived here part of that time, but part of that time I was in Birmingham. Brenda came down from north Georgia, on Greyhound, to help my landlady.
Brenda reminded me last night, that my landlady’s niece, who lived in New Orleans, after Katrina had plastered that area, came here to stay with her aunt for a couple of weeks. Fantasy Fest was in swing. The niece went there one night, and then came back to her aunt’s house, saying she had been raped at Fantasy Fest. Brenda then watched the aunt, my landlady, attack her niece, beating her with her hands and arms. Then, the police were called. They came, took the niece to the hospital, to be examined, for rape. No mention of my landlady beating her.
When I told Kari that last night, she said my landlady is nuts.
She attacked me in that same way, several times, after I called the cops on her Latvian fellow tenant, because I was not willing to wait to see if he was going to beat his wife up, or kill her; because I was not willing to wait to see if he was going to do even more damage to this house. And it’s me who is being evicted. Is that some weird version of the Stockholm syndrome? My landlady sided with the fellow who attacked his wife and this house. Actually, right after that attack, my landlady was screaming at the Latvian’s wife, demanding to know what she had done to her husband, to cause him to attack her and this house.
What caused it was he was drunk, and he is mentally deranged, perhaps from combat in Iraq, he was with NATO there, I was told by a mutual friend. But then, he often has said, plenty loud, that he’s a man, and men have a right to get drunk whenever they want, and to be loud whenever they want. The night I was told to leave, immediately, my landlady brought out a bottle of vodka, a very big bottle, and offered it to the Latvian, told him to drink all he wanted, to get as drunk as he wanted to get. Are we having fun yet, Jerry?
The Lativan and his wife drank steadily yesterday and the day before, starting mid-morning. I figure something is going to happen. It has to happen. Only when will it happen?
Kari, others, are hoping my landlady will have a change of heart, and tell me I don’t have to move out. One of the vicious van dweller criminals asked me yesterday, if I could grovel before my landlady, tell her I was sorry, I had fucked up, even though I didn’t mean it? Not a chance, I said. It would be a lie. Soul prostitution. Besides, I don’t want to live here any more. I’d be insane to want to live here any more. I’d be insane to stay here.
I told Kari last night, a peace came over me yesterday, when I understood there is no way I can live on the street in Key West again. Been there, done that, several times. There is no reason for me to do it again. If it comes to that, I’ll just fill my backpack with the bare essentials and start walking, out of the Keys, with my thumb out. I have done plenty of hitchhiking. I liked hitchhiking. I met lots of interesting people hitchhiking, who I didn’t have to stick with for long. I’d just disappear. Key West would not hear from me again.
I told the vicious van dweller criminals yesterday, although I know and love a lot of people here, and I would not want any of them harmed, if Key West simply disappeared, was no longer, it would not bother me in the least. I could care less what comes of this place, which thinks it is so important. This city has no clue what is important. Humanity has no clue what is important.
Although it would be hell for homeless people, if Key West enjoyed a several months monsoon, it would be great for Mother Nature. I don’t know if Kari is inclined to do that kind of rain dance. I don’t know if the angels would cooperate with that kind of rain dance. But it would be a side-splitting howler, if they did cooperate, and she did it, and Key West and the Florida Keys received, not 40 days and nights of rain, but 6 months of it. Every year.
Meanwhile, Kari meets with her probation officer this morning. Maybe that gets Kari back in jail. Where she will dry out. She said, the last time she was in jail, right after Sheriff Ramsay was elected, she was in there for violation of her probation, she was given a blanket and put into a cell, and allowed to go into the DTs and detox for 3 days, without any medical intervention, and without being allowed to bathe, and then they gave her Valium, so she could sleep and would shut up asking to be able to bathe and be given something to help her sleep.
Kari said, after she was dried out, the lady who ran the jail laundry specifically requested Kari work in the laundry, where Kari had worked before, because Kari was a good worker, did what she was given to do, did not need supervision. That’s when Sheriff Ramsay came through there, with an entourage of important people, as he showed them the best, he said, correction facility in Florida.
I was not able to sleep when I was locked up, without being given something to sleep. I got myself locked up, by telling a story I ought to have known better to tell in a hospital. Suddenly, I was not just a patient. I was a threat to myself and to everyone else. I was put on a locked ward, given pills, which nearly killed me.
One of the vicious van dweller criminals asked me last night, what meds I am on? I was astounded. He reads my daily ravings. And he thinks I’m on meds? I said as much. He mentioned your and my emails. You are a psychiatrist. I said you had never treated me. I had only met you a year and a half ago. I take 2 aspirins, when I hurt really bad. I don’t drink. I don’t take anything else.
I said, in a past life, I treated psychiatrists, psychologists, licensed clinical social workers, spiritual healers, gurus, shamans, who came to me for help, when nothing else was working for them. I was the doctor of last resort. And they got help, if they were so desperate that they believed only I could help them. I told them I could not help them, but God could. And in that way, they got to meet God, or God’s angels, which was an eyeopener. Some of them stuck with it a while, and some of them bolted. In the end, they all bolted.
That was what I did, I said, before I was sent to Key West, to get involved in politics.
Now, Jerry, the angels have put an emanation of Eve before me, Adam. And I’m getting turned every which a way but loose by that, which happened the other 7 times I was paired with an Eve emanation. Each time was different from the other times. Each time, it was the woman, me, and the angels, and nobody around us was in on it. It was not of this world. The woman had a rough go of it, as she was not accustomed to not being able to get her way. I didn’t care for it either, but I knew there was nothing I could do but ride it out.
I just can’t get a 6 month monsoon out of my thoughts. Hilarious. If it happens. Hilarious.
Over a huge Cuban egg, ham and cheese sandwich ($3.95) in the Winn-Dixie cafe a little while ago, I told Kari about the genetically-altered mosquito debate, and she said she gets chomped plenty by mosquitoes. I said the debate is over a different breed of mosquito, which causes dengue fever. Kari said, regardless, mosquitoes that bite her get drunk, and then fly off and have bad accidents. Or get eaten by birds more easily, I added. Yes, she said, and everyone getting and staying drunk would be a great way to control mosquitoes down here, and for me to publish that. I cracked up, laughing. Said, indeed I would publish it.
We talked about other stuff, which will remain classified. And, I said, it is a good thing if her probation officer is reading what I publish; in that way, she is getting to know the real Kari. As is her, Kari’s, mother.
Kari said, she thought she would just tell her probation officer today, it’s really hard being homeless. Especially, if your criminal record won’t let you get a job that will get you off the street, nor can you sleep at KOTS [the city’s homeless shelter], or get into Florida Keys Outreach Coalition or Samuel’s House get back on your feet programs for women. The way this has worked out for Kari, there is no way she can get back on her feet for so long as she is in the grip of the criminal justice system. And she cannot move elsewhere, unless she has a fixed address there. Without that, her probation officer and the court will keep her based in Monroe County.
Well, this is a fact. Kari, all by her lonesome, by telling me of her own experiences with being homeless, being in jail, staying at KOTS, volunteering at KOTS, being on probation, which I have reported, has shed more public light on that arena than any person I know, except myself. Between us, we have given the local public more information about this arena than they ever got in the local mullet wrappers, or from their local governments and elected officials. What becomes of that, of course, is not in our hands. We got the news out there; that’s what we were/are supposed to do. Neither of us is holding our breath that it will cause any change. We’d be insane to think anything we say about it will bring change.
By the way, Brenda also knows how to do a rain dance. She did one for the lower Keys during the drought which followed Hurricane Wilma. The torrential rain cleansed the roots of the wild and domestic plants, and helped them recover from the salt poisoning, which was slowly killing them, after Wilma’s tidal surge had covered those islands.
Imagine Brenda and Kari each doing rain dances for annual force majeure monsoons in Key West and the Florida Keys. Imagine the invasive species (humans) moving back to the mainland. Imagine how much Mother Nature would appreciate that. Kari smiled when I suggested she do such a rain dance. I don’t have to ask Brenda how she feels about it. She had all of Key West and KOTS and Samuel’s House and Florida Keys Outreach Coalition and my landlady she could stomach, the several times she tried to live here.
But then, perhaps I’m not being fair, bringing Brenda into this discussion. She’s an empath. She feels in her body everything going on in people around her, and even at a distance. It causes her all sorts of physical distress. A barometer for humanity, Brenda is a living testament to just how screwed up human beings are. She calls me often, complaining about this or that ache or sickness, and as we talk about this and that going on in her life, or my life, the malaise lifts from her and dissolves. Then comes the next fun thing. It’s the same for me. I absorb (am bitten by) everything. It’s like being bitten by a rattlesnake or cobra. Swallowing poison. Then the fun begins.
I was told in dreams last night to mount today’s post from Missouri (Kari), Oranges (Florida, sunshine), and the Keys. I tossed in Brenda, gratis :-).
The other evening at Higgs Beach, I met a new vicious van dweller criminal, here for just a few days. After hearing me say my dreams tell me what’s coming my way, or how to deal with what is already in front of me, or how to deal with it differently, he said, my dreams are visions. I said he was the first person who’d ever said that about my dreams, which is what they are: visions. Except they happen when I’m sleeping. That way, I can’t get locked up for hearing voices. But then, I said, I also have visions when I’m not sleeping, but much less often. But then, Brenda and Kari dream like I do, and they also have waking visions. That happens to people after the angels start messing with them.
Kari just called to say her probation officer said she needs to get a fixed address, to stay out of prison. How can Kari get a fixed address, when she has no place that is fixed to lay down her head at night? No place but her P.O. Box next to the Winn-Dixie, to receive mail? When she cannot stay at KOTS? Those are rhetorical questions, pointing out the madness.
Kari said she told her probation officer that she had met me, Sloan. Her probation officer said, oh, she sees me at city commission meetings, she hears what I say during citizen comments, she thinks I’m nuts. By the angels’ standard, all humans are insane. Maybe that’s a more relevant “theory” of relativity :-).
One thing that came back to bite me big time here where I live, was telling my landlady I had let Kari stay in the carport for a few hours one night, after she had been harassed by local police for half that night. Kari was gone before dawn. Well, after the Latvian attacked his girlfriend and this house, and after I called the cops, and then told the Latvian I was thinking about going to immigration about him, which I have not yet done, that’s when my landlady lit into me for putting her life at risk for letting Kari stay a few hours out in the carport. I heard about that plenty. I heard my landlady tell other people about it, plenty. And about how that sweet Latvian man, oh, he just got drunk one night and scared the living hell out of her and she screamed at him for about half hour; but she smoothed it over the next morning, fixed him breakfast, told him he was a good boy, and to behave; and I told her the boozing and other chemical usage was going to cause problems; and within 10 minutes the Latvian and his wife were yelling at each other, and he attacked her and this house. I couldn’t find my landlady. So, I called 911. What any sane, responsible person would have done.
Maybe a sane, responsible person would have gone to city code enforcement, too. The fellow who runs that department is a good friend of mine, Jim Young. Maybe he’d like to visit and check out this unlicensed boarding house, at which seven people, counting the landlady, currently live and pay rent to her. Maybe the landlady owes the city some back fees. Maybe she is renting spaces which do not meet city code standards, such as having running water.
Brenda had a dream yesterday, that seemed to be about things here getting a bit more spiced up.
That’s a horseshoe on Kari’s flank, and Vagrant on my arm.
Kari said last night that she’d like to see some of my art. I said it drew itself, when it wanted to draw itself. I was just the scribe. Drawn on the diagonal, the paintings hang on the top left or right point, depending on which diagonal they choose to present themselves. Tilt your screen so the appropriate top point is up, to see how they hang. Some selections.