flailing under weighted blankets with the world’s sniggering vitriol dampening my resolve which never was up to it anyway like everything else or everyone I’ve known, few as they may be, and diminished by time and the noise of my tentacled senses holding me under, I can’t breathe. 

Release me. 

Split Perceptionality

There is a divide within me.

On one hand i am mechanical; with logic reigning in all i see, calculating angles and producing opinions.

On the other; I am a romantic, a lover of birds with colourful wings; jealous of lovers losing themselves in their chemical wonderland of adoration and infatuation and shared dreams!

How i long for love in one second, and in then shake my head bewildered by this strange behaviour displayed in relationships, the social contracts, the bonding rituals.

Who runs the show? well, I am more mechanical thinker than i am hormone bulldozer.

Just an observation.

A heart emersed in smog: E-mail floating the vast liquid cyberspace

These emotions are so powerful, potent; they erode the electronic channels flowing to-and-from my heart.

I’ve never been one to surround myself with hoards of friends – but each unexpected event; every tragedy or surprise, no matter the scale, – has me severing the already minuscule network I have developed for years around me.

I simply cannot take the overriding emotions. My body cannot take it. My eyes were bought cheap but now they’re a low grade x-ray pair which sees through flesh (I have no control of this) and the sight of humans laid even more bare than I can already take sends me over the edge.

I un-plug from this dimension as best as I can.

I refuse to leave my apartment when I hear something terrible has happened to a friend; and they will need me for support, – obligation wrecks my nerves even further.

Writing this ist trop much, I’m soRri but I cænt – continue: die Sanduhr ist gestiegen.

ø To whom ever is out there ø

The Golden Ratio and My aspie-chip

I am altogether unmoved by the physical appearance of the opposite sex, with the face remaining a surprising exception to this ‘general sexual-aesthetic indifference’;

It is not to say that I cannot appreciate the physical dimensions of the body. On the contrary, ’tis this very element; which I take note of the most (in a rather excessively scientific manner), and laud.

But it is As one would take note of a stocky and intimidating grand oak tree; with its far reaching and low hanging branches, the hard and richly dark bark which emits a strong earthy odour, and perhaps more romantically; the impression such a wonder of nature imprints upon the mind.

A more animated example would be the ever extraordinary humpback whale (or any other -whale genus/species group) in all their individual grandeur!

My sexuality and its previously assumed certainty has been undergoing a sort of existential trial within me.

All things which were once arousing or attractive have shifted under the gaze of my aspiescope (a microscope examining all behaviours which mirror NT’s or otherwise)

I believe this is a natural process many go through. Particularly those who receive diagnoses which shift their perceptions of themselves or raise that inner curtain.

All is digitalised. Music and cute animal babies are untouched are untouched. They escape the calculations that I make on the constant about everything from writing a story to appreciating beauty.

If I were in a movie; there would be numbers and angles and equations hovering over my head.

The golden ratio is up my alley.

I feel as though this post had a tinge of negativity; but in all honesty it is a journey I quite appreciate. For the more I know my true self; the better I can fly, navigating the world using my own eyes.

Rather than store bought eyes made in factories for the likes of neuroatypicals such as myself.

Management of a jumbled brain

Things I manage to mismanage in my brain:









One or two or several more get magnified and then I waste my time because I have my expectations all wrong completely ignoring the reality or I have it all right except I don’t take action or I focus on something but it is beyond my ability so I waste time and end up disappointed.

Who needs friends when you have a pillow?

A poorly written letter by a green-eyed Turkey

NB: Might be having an episode or maybe too cowardice to pin what I am about to say to my chest.

A dross open letter to those who have ‘made it’ (even though they seem to be ignorant of that fact).

To all of you Functional Aspiez:

Dear FuAs’s! I am delighted (neigh, covetous) for your current conditions in life. Some of you have jobs, partners, kids, and others are students.

I do not mean to belittle any strife you may have within. Anxieties and hyper-sensativities and “shabby” social skills.

There are valiant advocacy battles being fought. And yet there is one area which bothers me; the argument about asperger’s not being a disability, or a syndrome, or a problem at all.

Now I must say, in the beginning; I was behind this call for change.

But my reality and many more others is not the same as the aspies who have some how ‘made it’.

I am baffled at how successful many are in life (perhaps I am just a colossal wreck? It’s not the aspie, it’s something else like being worthless or having to speak in 19th century tongue to express yourself properly)

But I literally cannot shed a tear for you when the first sentence of your problems in your blog has “boss” and “colleagues” in it.

Put aside for a second, the economic hardship we all face, jobless or not; I’m talking about mental struggles that prevent the first job interview from happening, that make school/college a war zone! The faces, the social structures, the general outdoors!

For some of us, there’s a force field thick as the moon by the door!

I have deep empathy for your plights; but there’s a part of me that weeps selfishly everyday; wishing to be independent and that part of me knows I have to go out and slug it with the rest of the world and then I feel like I’m going to drown in my own irrational fears.

Deteriorating as I get older but the same pathetic teenager who had no clue of his future still stares back at me in the mirror.

Despite being anonymous; I loathe the idea of other aspies seeing these words. And in an instant I’m as apathetic because I’d rather have work and live on the tip of a far flung mountain range or maybe be dead; why is that always floating in my head? Death.

Whether I mean to or not it’s never too far behind.

Screw this post.

Happy Clappy Hands

The noise oh the noise.
I may be mentally impaired.
Pills to float on the surface of sanity.
People I knew in high school moving fluidly through life.
Perplexed at how so many autistic folk move, as NT’s, with as much fluidity.
Enter autistic space and feel like an outsider. Maybe wires crossed in existential circuitry.
He unplugs from the rest of the world and finds it easy to forget.
He drinks non-alcoholic beverages to escape sobriety.
She doesn’t understand the milieu of smiles.
She wishes they would be transparent.
It’s all electronic and cybernetic.
It cannot cope with life.
Oh well never mind.
Nouns + Verbs.