From the desk of a Lysdexic Mind   

Dyslexic in a world of words

Dyslexia, a word, a label, a condition.  I’m dyslexic in a text based world.  I write novels.  I drive my copy editors to drink.  I drive my copy editors to distrust their own judgment on word spelling.  Read More...

A Beginning

I am 50, and I am sitting in the day room of a mental hospital.  The world around me is muted colors.  Scuffed white floors and walls.  Pale green scrubs.  Brown skin, light skin, crazy is democratic.    Read More...

Driving Nowhere Fast

Ground fog clings to the cracked and patched asphalt.  A pale blue Mustang pulls to a stop at the intersection of Pagemill and Skyline.  Pagemill runs from Palo Alto on the bay side to the sea on the western side of the mountains.    Read More...

Freedom Day

What is it about strippers?  Tatted, pierced, lovely.  Bone raw, emotion skin deep and ready to laugh or rage or cry at the snap of a finger.  For thirty bucks they will dance on your lap, and as long as the cash keeps coming they will stay at your side. Read More...