D. J. Reddall
Bio
I write because my time is limited and my imagination is not.
Achievements (14)
Stories (875)
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Behold the Nerd
Let us suppose that identity is a matter of self-sameness, i.e., being who you appear to be. Given this definition, there are a few reasons why I resent the radical instability of my identity. Firstly, the fact that I am suffering from the effects of Multiple Sclerosis, which was diagnosed fifteen months ago, has changed how other humans comport themselves with respect—or the lack thereof—to me. This is especially obvious with regard to my employer, my boss (the two are distinct in the academic realm, which has interesting implications), my colleagues and my students. My handwriting has never been especially beautiful, but now it is often entirely unintelligible. My gait is odd. Perpetual tinnitus, a consequence of my first “flare,” makes me seem irritable and distracted. It will only get worse from here. I feel as though my internal reality is largely unchanged, but my external reality has been sliding toward insufferable. That, I resent.
By D. J. Reddall2 years ago in Confessions
Bathtub Jinn. First Place in Arid Challenge.
If you have ever believed that your brain is more perfect or beautiful than other brains, an MRI will sort that out. I was hurt by the bland mediocrity of my own brain. It was generic, typical—the sort of brain that you could see in stock images or textbooks. It matched the illustrations that accompany boilerplate lore about grey matter on The Mayo Clinic site that you might scroll through in a sweaty, hypochondriacal panic at three in the morning.
By D. J. Reddall2 years ago in Fiction
Touching Style. Top Story - November 2023.
Yesterday, I did something laughably mundane. I got a haircut. During the worst of the pandemic, this was by no means as trivial a matter as it ordinarily had been. A catalogue of almost invisibly routine phenomena was lit up with fresh strangeness by that crisis. Other humans were feverishly wiping down their groceries with bleach or replacing their masks between sips of iced coffee. It was a time of fear, confusion and anxiety.
By D. J. Reddall2 years ago in BookClub
Altignarus
The candidate had a haircut courtesy of Escher and a laugh that caused teeth to rot and lights to dim. His speech began with a proem which consisted primarily of crude ad hominems, lies and orgiastic exercises in self-congratulation. He conflated the leaders of four foreign nations, misquoted scripture, two works by the poet laureate, the constitution and the lyrics of the national anthem, then spent sixteen minutes euphemistically exaggerating the dimensions of his own genitalia.
By D. J. Reddall2 years ago in Fiction
Charm Offensive
"Potestates et affectiones ligatae. Cordis veneficae est ubi celat. Adiuva eam per agoniam eius benedic memoriam eius." Ruth heard these strange words emanating from her daughter's bedroom, followed by strangled sobs and the wild grunting of some sort of animal. She assumed there must be an awful film streaming on that bloody computer. She and Harold had to pay through the nose for "decent Wifi" so that her daughter could waste her time this way. She filled her lungs with a storm of invective and opened the door.
By D. J. Reddall2 years ago in Fiction
