There once was a story which was never written about how a skull and an appleseed took up arms with one another to defend the primary respiratory rhythm's objectivity in a tainted and subjective reality. The story, a great one I'm sure, fell by the wayside and was trampled on by the very...
Who am I kidding; medical school is a creativity zap capable of all manner of crimes against Humanity ( capital 'H' ).
Head and neck anatomy by all accounts seems to be a bit like having one's left hand (or other appendage) locked in a vice grip for six weeks. We have a skull quiz Friday. I will make it my bitch before focusing a shit-ton of good energy on the region surrounding my crista galli and let it seep through the sieve of my cribiform plate before getting sucked in through my eyeballs, past my retinae, criss-crossing along my chiasmatic sulcus and perfusing throughout my brain and CNS. That, or I'll take a couple Benedryll, call it a night and wake up dehydrated sometime Saturday afternoon.
Maybe then I will shovel out my parking spot
good night.
Wednesday, January 7, 2009
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