cross-eyed and successful

This may or may not come as a surprise to you,
but I am dyslexic. Not severely dyslexic, but if
you want proof try giving me string of random
numbers orally. I will not be able to repeat the
numbers back to you after you hit a certain, critical
length (~8 digits). If you want to see me fail even more
miserably, try asking me to repeat those numbers
backwards. No matter how much concentration and
effort I put into this task it's impossible, and the sensation
of having crossed wires in my head is intense.

Dyslexic people often develop a lot of compensatory
skills that allow them to function in world. You may
or may not be familiar with my unique talents.
Dyslexic people excel in certain fields because of
their learned compensatory skills. It's estimated
that 10% of adults in the US are dyslexic.

My older brother used to have a Tony Little work
out tape. If you don't know who Tony Little is, all you
really need to know is that he has no neck and his cardio
work-out of choice is "the Gazelle." He used to say
something like, "Variety is the spice of life." He was
of course referring to cross-training, but I like to
think that this statement is true in a more general
sense. Although conditions like dyslexia, autism,
etc. are medicalized and scientifically well defined
they are not pathological, in my opinion, with the
exception of extremely severe cases. One man's
crossed wires maybe be another man's great creative
thought process. Seriously... celebrate your snowflake
of a brain.

Sensual Seduction

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=pKz-RXSeIYA

I think everyone secretly desires to live like this.
Snoop Dogg is not afraid to show us the way.
(Note the black man mullet.)

Monkeys at Typewriters

You know that saying about a bunch of monkeys
in a room at typewriters. Something like, "If you
have enough monkeys and you let them type
for long enough, eventually, by chance, they will
write a novel." Kind of like if you have the right
elements sitting in a pool of sludge together randomly
getting struck by lightning, eventually, by chance,
life will emerge.

Something similar happens with spam these days I
think. You know those non-sense junk mails you get
that sometimes have attachments that you don't open
because there is 97% chance that they are a virus.
There must be some kind of program(s) that
automatically formulate non-sense text for these
emails so that they aren't recognized as spam by filters.
I think these programs grab text from somewhere on the
net and then cannibalize it and puke it out all scrambled.
Sometimes I take time out to read this non-sense text, and,
more often than one would think, it sounds like poetry.
Just like a novel from monkeys and life from sludge, spam
poetry is inevitable. I recently received this text in a
spam email.

Circumcision

A spam poem by "Orlando Baldwin"

martyrdom sicily sicily
shepherd
scull
infield impelled cabinetmake
hays riga arragon gullet quay
magic
dun formosa gullet
jerusalem heptane anemone calder
lair objectivity aforementioned sicily

I especially like the flow of the last line. I am kind of sad
that this might be a better poem than I will ever be able to
write, and it might as well have been written by a couple
monkeys on typewriters. This is why I love the internet,
it's like an organic microcosm, junk like this just
happens.

p.s. I think I'm going to start an Italian death metal band
called "Martyrdom Sicily Sicily". Large, bloody meatballs
will rain from the sky while we perform.

I wrote a poem

It's short... and I think it's pretty sweet.

euro-trash man-stallion

by Christine

I can't feel my balls,
my pants are too tight.
I can't feel my brain,
my hair is too beautiful.

(There are a number of people that I could
dedicate this to, but I think Loza deserves it
the most. Merry Christmas!)

I've got 99 problems... but your mom ain't one.

Friends,

I haven't written anything here for while.
Would you like an update on me?
Ok...
I got in a car accident. I'm fine, but my
car got totaled. Boo! I have lots of work
at work! I am editing (read as "rewriting")
3 papers for publication written by 6th
year pharmacy students. Let's just say
that pharmacy schools don't have writing
classes. Boo! I wrote a chapter for a book
on current pain treatments. My chapter
was about sleep and pain. Here's an ironic
image: Christine working on her lap-top
feverishly at 3 in the morning. Sitting next
to her are three hard bound volumes on
sleep deprivation. The conclusion of the
chapter can be summarized in one sentence:
"Sleep deprivation gives you enhanced
perception of pain." Boo.

Hmmmmm... that's about it.
Boooo... I am a super downer.

Crouching Tiger, Flying Squirrel

One night I was on a roof top on the East Hill in Ithaca and was treated to the site of flying squirrels... flying! Wheeee..... I had not realized that the (Northern) Flying Squirrel (Glaucomys sabrinus) lived in New York.... But there they were!!! If you want to see flying squirrels you should probably find a vantage point that overlooks some quiet woods, with tall trees... You'll need a substantial light source, or else you'll never see the little buggers... Oh and, of course, go at night, because they are nocturnal.

If you ever go to Switzerland you may have the chance to see Glaucomys sapiens. Although this species is rare (due to a pathologic, genetic syndrome that attracts them to situations that are tantamount to suicide), they are easily spotted, because they are larger and diurnal. Some are loud and brightly pigmented.

... Oh.... excuse me....

First, we have bar shaped like a rectum (officially named Bar Rectum), and then we have a house shaped like a toilet. I am going to start compiling a list of artists/poop-enthusiasts so that I'll have a lot of people to contact once my plans for DoodieLand (a poop themed theme park) start to come together. God bless modern art.