A reptile dysfunction

I start the week with a morning visit to the dentist, and while the olaflur gel is setting and I think of Olafur Eliasson, I watch motorcycle speedway on the telly, which seems oddly anachronistic. I think about floss and loss, and all things dental and mental. Every once in a while, I spit out some blood. Ages seem to pass and the motorcycles sound like chainsaws. Eva came back last night and brought me a book about a book about “The Art of Chinese Paper Folding for Young and Old”. We talk and we are silent. Inside, I am still empty and new.

Yesterday and today, I found two things on the net, which are strangely related. The first is this image: Conception of Alexander the Great, Les faize d’Alexandre (translation of Historiae Alexandri Magni of Quintus Curtius Rufus), Bruges ca. 1468-1475.

The second is a seemingly new literary genre, invented and maintained by one Christie Sims, who single-handedly floods amazon.com with books about “Dinosaur Beast Erotica”. Her author statement reads as follows:

“Hi! I’m just a plain old, everyday Midwestern girl that lives a normal life. However, while my outward tastes are relatively simple, my inner thoughts are filled with lusty thoughts of big, strong, powerful monsters having their way with beautiful maidens.”