I have in my mind a picture of the wrong side of Florida

Everything is spoiled from within and without, everywhere from tip toe every one is possessed by the demons

I want to be evil, bad, nasty, cruel, daring just to see my face against the nicest, good, sweet, beautiful and moral

My career is philosophy not practicality but a mere speculation of life

I write poetry, prose, study language structures and history for pleasure

Out of life’s necessity I bear others existence like a misanthrope

I love arts, literature and lyricism at the expense of my health

I merely live the life of a relic insect whose life is in pages of the books

On the wrong side of Florida I practice the thouravian behavior