Mark Meyer
Claim to Fame
The last afternoon of the symposium at the Salk was a total drag, and the keynote speaker’s spouting of incomprehensible (to me) molecular mumbo-jumbo was a royal pain-in-the-arse. Ho-hum, just one more brick in the wall, but that’s science after all. Unfortunately, the search for simple elegance can be hideously labyrinthine.
red herring an obscure pathway to an obscure pathway
Fed up, I left before the end of his schpiel to hit the mens’ room and relieve myself in the gleaming porcelain urinal. Had the restroom all to myself for a brief moment, then two gentlemen walked in and took positions to my right and left to begin the routine unzip-n’-go procedure. Turns out, the guy on my right was Sir Francis Crick; on my left, Gerald Edelman—both Nobel laureates. Talking back-and-forth over, around, and through me, they agree the lecture was a boring disappointment—nothing new, hard to follow, poor slides, etc. Mumbling a meek “I concur,” I quickly finish my business, wash-up, and split the scene.
leaving my mark
territorial pissings
between titans
Note: “Territorial Pissings” is a song by Nirvana.
About the Author
Mark Meyer is an artist, writer, former research biologist, originally from Texas, currently living in the middle of a lake in Washington state. He enjoys a great fondness for dogs, guitars, and elixirs. His artwork and poetry have somehow managed to get around here and there. He’s even picked up a few awards along the way.