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Posted by on Mar 18, 2013 in Blog, Book Reviews | 1 comment

Stiff: The Curious Lives of Human Cadavers

 

stiff-book

 

Cadavers are our superheroes.  They brave fire without flinching, withstand falls from tall buildings and head-on car crashes into walls.  You can fire a gun at them or run a speedboat over their legs, and it will not faze them.  Their heads can be removed with no deleterious effect.  They can be in six places at once.  I take the Superhuman point of view.  What a shame to waste these powers, to not use them for the betterment of humankind.

– May Roach (Author of Stiff)

 

Stiff is the title of a best-selling book written by Mary Roach.  Released in 2003, the book is all about human cadavers — which is a polite way of saying “dead bodies.”

Sounds like a real treat, doesn’t it?

Indeed, aversion is to be expected.  Why spend leisure time reading a decade-old book about dead bodies?  Well, let’s reverse that question.  Think of it this way — why wouldn’t you want to read a book about precisely what happens to your body — in great detail — once your life ends?

Too unbearable to ponder?  Think again.

For the squeamish expecting a narrative that’s scientific or morbid, Stiff is surprisingly neither.  Rather, it’s intriguing, original, and often very funny.  Yes, I said it – funny.

Due to the persistent sensitivity and clever wit of the author Mary Roach, she takes one of the most disturbing subjects imaginable and not only makes this into a page-turner for all types of reading audiences (high school dropouts and doctors would likely find it equally interesting), but transforms the macabre into a remarkable revelation of the things which essentially make us human.  In short, this isn’t a book about dying, at all.  It’s about living and more precisely understanding the miraculous chamber called the human body which houses our existence for an average life span of about 75 years.

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Posted by on Jan 6, 2013 in Blog, Essays | 2 comments

The Other Side of the Tracks

Bell Gardens, CA

 

Everyone knows what “the other side of the tracks” means.

It’s the dividing line between “us” and “them.”

Railroad tracks, boulevards, embankments, power lines — they all serve useful purposes.  But where they’re placed in our towns and communities sometimes has a far more austere significance, however subtle.

In fact, they are dividing lines.  They may was well be national boundaries.  They are most certainly economic boundaries — and in many cases — racial and cultural borders.

If you happened to be born on the “right” side of the tracks (as I was), consider yourself fortunate.  If you’re on the wrong side however, then your ambition is most likely to cross the imaginary divide and overcome invisible barriers which exist to this day.

Today, I’m crossing the railroad tracks.  I’m headed to the other side.

Bell Gardens is what you would call — a city on the other side.  Mostly Hispanic now, it used to be one of the most dangerous areas of the city, as recently as 10 to 15 years ago.  Most of the shootings here were related to drug trafficking.  But those days are pretty much over now.  Today, it’s a quiet community which has undergone a remarkable transformation.  I’d even go so far as to call it a small miracle.  Yes — Bell Gardens is where I’m staying during the next two weeks, which happens to be where the famous Bicycle Casino is located.

I must confess that were it not for this working assignment at what’s come to be known to most poker players simply as “The Bike,” I’d probably stay somewhere else.  Which tells you everything about our lingering perceptions about the other side of the tracks — biases which to which I’m undoubtedly shackled.  But my previous visits here have reshaped some old perceptions.  I’ve gained an awareness for what I would have missed had I not stayed here and been forced to integrate myself into this community.  I would have missed plenty and in the end I’d have been poorer for it.  Alas, the longer I’m here the more comfortable I am within this community and the greater appreciation I have for the people who live here.

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Posted by on Jan 4, 2013 in Blog, Essays, Personal, Travel | 2 comments

Still Running — One Year Later

 

Nolan Dalla Adidas Running Shoes

 

Running is pain.

Each and every step is a bone-grinding reminder that I’m not young anymore.  I can’t quite do all the things I used to be able to do — at least not as fast, nor with as much ease.

But I try.

One year ago today,  began my daily running routine.  All 262 lumbering pounds of me shook the pavement with the full force of a jackhammer.  I remember the pain as if it happened this morning.  Perhaps that’s because today I felt many of those same pains once again.  Indeed, I have come full circle to the place I was once before.

One year ago I weighed two-hundred and sixty-two pounds.  Making it a full mile without stopping left me bent over, panting, and breathless.  Running a few miles, even with deliberate stops in between, made my joints ache.  After a few runs, my legs cramped up.  At time, the pain was so severe, I felt paralyzed.

But I ran that first day.  And the next.  And the next, too.  And with every step along the way, the one thereafter became just a little bit easier.  Within a week of my daily run, I was already beginning to feel dramatic changes.  Not only did I feel better physically, but mentally, as well.  I also had lots more energy.

My lifestyle revolution — where I committed myself to running every single day with no excuses — began in the Bell Gardens section of Los Angeles on January 4, 2012.

And now today, it’s one year later.  I have returned again to this place where it all started.

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Posted by on Dec 10, 2012 in Blog, Personal, Rants and Raves, Travel | 2 comments

Attack of the Pit Bulls

Mean-Looking Pitbull

 

Yesterday, I almost had my balls chewed off by a pit bull named “Chief.”

It’s true.

I was attacked by three pit bulls this past weekend.  Here’s the story of how a leisurely run through the mountains of northern San Diego County turned into a brief moment of terror.

 

………………

 

Ever had one of those “HOLY SHIT!  WHAT DO I DO NOW?” moments?

I just had one.

Make that three.  As in three pit bulls.

It all happened Saturday morning.  A casual three-mile run concluded with an unexpected “bonus sprint” towards the end, when I was confronted by three gnarling, foaming-at-the-mouth, canine beasts.

First, the back story.  I’m currently staying at the Harrah’s Rincon Resort and Casino, which is located in the mountains just north of San Diego.  This is Indian land situated about halfway between Temecula and Escondido.  Unless you drive 20 miles due east off the I-15, you’d never know there’s this vast barren area with almost no modern development, except for a few casinos and local Indians who all seem to drive $60,000 cars and live in shacks.

The roads here pretty much consist of single-lane stretches of pavement winding through mountains along blind curves with no guard rails.  Everyone seems to drive 80 miles an hour along these roads.  I guess there’s no state highway patrol here given this is a “sovereign nation,” so it’s almost like vehicular anarchy.

Having run along these roads a few times as part of my daily workout, I’ve nearly been hit by traffic, oblivious to the fat white guy wallowing along the yellow stripe who’s stupid enough to jog a route where no path exists.  If running in Las Vegas is dangerous at times, and it certainly can be, then doing the same thing here on an Indian reservation is inviting a death wish.

So, on Saturday morning I went out in search of a detour.  A new path where I could run over the next week which was challenging, but safe.  I thought I’d found it, at least until the final stage of my run, which is where the story picks up.

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Posted by on Nov 28, 2012 in Blog, Las Vegas, Personal | 4 comments

A Day in the Life

Nolan Dalla Photo

 

I received an e-mail from a loyal reader recently which contained some good advice.  He made two suggestions for my blog. 

First, he wanted to hear more poker and gambling stories.  That’s a reasonable request.  So, look for more stories in the near future. 

Second, he suggested making my blog more personal by sharing things I do on a day-to-day basis. 

I must admit the thought to reducing this site to some kind of sick twitter update — such as informing the world of what I ordered for lunch strikes me as ridiculously narcissistic and utterly immaterial.  That said, I very much believe “who we are” is defined by “what we do.”  So, I will acquiesce to this occasionally and bore the world with the trivialities of my personal life.

 

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