Saturday, November 30, 2013


"Dance of All Nations" Fête, 1911
The research is blooming, I'm deep in discovery mode. I have more than enough anecdotes to write a fluff piece on Edmund as a Bohemian sidekick, but that glimpse of the truth doesn't feel complete. There's a small opportunity to pay tribute to this misunderstood man and I want to get it right. Also, I don't want to talk out of my ass. It's scary to make statements about a person's life based entirely on the paper trail they left behind. 

Some of Edmund's critics were harsh. Brutally mean. As the kids say nowadays, "haters gonna hate." I wonder if the critics ever got to him. His writing exudes confidence and authority. Sometimes an overinflated sense of self is a mask. I can speculate over what he was hiding, but without evidence (even letters) it's hard to say. I have so many questions, there are so many rabbit holes in the puzzle. He's tangled with fascinating people. Madame Blavatsky, Mohini M. Chatterji, Joaquin Miller, Baba Bharati--all conspiring to pull me down into the rabbit hole. Edmund, keep pressing your lips to my third eye. Push me not into a rabbit hole, but help me raise my awareness. 

The past 2 nights my dreams have been a wrestling match with my waking thoughts. Combing over dates, working on his timeline, following up with emerging questions. Mostly, my dreams have been negotiations of dates and little hints. I spent yesterday afternoon and evening with my sources and laptop, working on Edmund's story. Trying to, anyway. My Friday fixation? He was almost always photographed in profile and I've been wondering why that is. 

Hmmmm. . .

Who the frog prefers their face in profile?

1886 Description of Edmund's Head
I suppose it's because I'm used to seeing myself straight on, but I dislike my profile. Not that I'm wild about the straight-on view of my face, but if I must be seen, I prefer to forget what my profile looks like. How it accentuates my bug eyes. Bird neck. Five-head. Spots. Lumpy chin. Pores NASA can photograph with the Mars rover. Nose could double as a sundial. Okay, so I don't share Edmund's inflated sense of self, nor his desire to be photographed in profile. Back to my line of thinking last night, I was going through the pictures I have of him and marveling (okay, chuckling) at how many are in profile. The "best" one I have straight-on is a gritty newspaper pic.
Maharaja of Mynightmare
The costume is excellent, must have been incredible in person, but this expression is creepy. I'm going to chalk the intensity up to the poor quality of the photo. I bet he looked dazzling when it was snapped. I'm just gonna have to go with my gut on that one. There's no way his eyes were that eerie. Individually, his eyes are charming, not a trace of visible psychosis. 

It's food for thought. Edmund, did you really look that different straight-on?! One of my thoughts last night as I went to sleep was sort of a plea. 
Let me get a look at that face! 
Enough with the profiles!

When I woke this morning, I had an email from eBay about two new auctions for archival newspaper photos. The first photo I saw was of him walking down stairs . . . 

...and the only creepy thing about this photo is 
I'll be buying it on eBay. 

Soundtrack: The Police "Every Breath You Take"
May tonight's dreams bring clarity +
aid the flow of concise words.

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