Dyslexic as Hell


Not too much to say about Dah

She has her say in Pure Fiction

Hi my name is... they call me...

L.D. what is my name again?

Why am I not astonished at this? Your name is Dah.

Dah, that's right I remember now. I must have forgotten to take my Ginkgo again, mental clarity is not my strong suit.

Good thing that raging hippie gave up smoking pot or we
might have ended up a basket case.
The wires of the neural net fried to crispy noodles.

I'm the one who forms all the confusion.
They have to blame someone.
I've been appointed the position of scapegoat.
I'm dyslexic, I live in a fog without my drugs.
You don't suppose it's the reason I ended up here?

Not discovering the benefits of Ginkgo until the early 90's spelling my own name was often a challenge.

I have caused The Consortium more grief than they care to recount. Poor judgment, weak willed, inpatient, failure to learn from my mistakes, low self esteem are all part of my constitution. Sometime I get pushy and neglect my manners. I'm the one who detects the loop holes and they are the ones who endure for my deficiency of integrity.

The Consortium has a wonderful memory for trivia. It's quirky how it works. You ask them a question, if they don't know the answer immediately they drop it into the banks while I continue to go about fashioning my daily blunders and all of a sudden the
information is retrieved!
This often takes them a few minutes,
so stand up ad lib comedy is out of the question.

I hate typing. You have no idea how difficult it is for me to keep the words straight, to remember all of the punctuation, and little grammatical dos and don'ts.

Most of the posts on message boards have been proof read over 5 times. I still manage to sneak in my signature of non perfection.

I worship the great god spell check. The thesaurus is my best friend. I know most of the words in it but since I can't spell them,
I tend not to use them.

I don't know for sure but I think Keith would be valuable to me. He conceivably is my D.D.

Someone to catch me up, when I fall short. Gently crack the whip, hone my obtuse edge.
Insulate The Consortium from my sketchy unrefined technique.
I won't concern myself over the other women.
What other women?

If his disposition is not buoyant, I won't be capable of distinguishing his moods through the haze that encompass me.


Next, Mommy Neitz.

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