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It’s Valentine’s Day again. Social media is of course flooded with all kinds of related memes, posts, comments and messages. Too much of it is sappy, and just irrelevant to this Autistic Bunny. But the circus is unavoidable, unless one lives in a hole under a rock (not a bad thing, really, apart from the lack of modern sanitation). So… here are my own thoughts for the day… Continue reading

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liminal spaces

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dichotomies of form and function

existential agony and joy

tensile attraction and repulsion

fluid concretisation

evaluating worth

by inability

instead of celebrating

victory hard-won

mired in thick viscosity

frantically paddling

against the tide

inside

liminal spaces

revisiting LaLaLouBelle

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‘Making’, the act and action, is like a gently flowing stream of consciousness, a knowing of wellbeing. I breathe more calmly and at the same time there is a delightful sense of excitement like an aura wrapping around me.

I’ve been revisiting my jewellery hobby, after near complete brain shutdown the other day from frenetic writing and overworking the thinking machine. I needed that elemental connection with material and matter. And, as always, Lucy was a cooperative model.

Just uploaded more photos in LaLaLouBelle! Check them out if you’re interested in handmade jewellery for humans and furries.

food-space

YumCha with family & friends!

Humans like communal sharing of food, an almost ritualistic social exercise.

Family time at Ichiban!

For those who enjoy food, there is a space inside, an intimate and personal nook, set apart from the interactive merriment and camaraderie, tucked inside that little moment when you imbibe the morsels and make elemental visceral contact with the fabric, material and compounds. This is my favourite part of food: that bubble in time that transports the foodie beyond mere sustenance into soulful contemplation, even if subconscious, of life itself, that solitary interstice of rich sensory luxury. Continue reading

small moments

In a raging sea of tumultuous tossing, frothing and heaving, small moments of grace and respite become crucial life saving sources of sustenance and strength.

So, go out there, disengage with the demons in your head or the monkeys in your circus, and have some time out with a friend, for sushi or tea and cake, an hour or two of elemental refreshment!

anxiety at the BIG Anxiety

Big anxiety at The BIG Anxiety Festival!

Some of this narrative was introduced in my previous post, about Food Markers, but this ramble here is a kind of variation on the theme, from a different angle.

This 2017 working trip has been fraught with dramatic ups and downs, and here’s my as-brief-as-possible review of the Grand Experience, months afterwards. Beware, ye grammar-sticklers, I do move rapidly between tenses, because I am unfolding the unfolding as I am experiencing it, in the now, in the then, and in the next. And that, too, is my Autistic Bunny Authentic Experience-ing. Continue reading

food markers

Food can be multi sensorial markers for a journey, tangible physical tabs that help one chronicle the meandering and navigating along the way. Here are my food markers for this trip, a somewhat odd blend of agony and joy, despair and exhilaration all rolled into one jumbled mass.

After arriving at my place of abode, already down with some kind of nasty infection, feverish and in a brain fog, I set about trying to find some nourishment for my weary body. I didn’t manage to get far, due to the sorry state I was in, and settled for a hot dog and an orange juice from the pie and hot dog stand across the road, by the wharf. A sunny day, there were the usual seagulls and pigeons stalking all and any humans sitting at the benches eating. One man brought his little French Bulldog for some sunshine. It was difficult chewing down on the hotdog, my jaw slightly swollen and stiff, but I was quite determined to achieve the feat. The orange juice tasted like soap and plastic though, pretty vile, hence that was abandoned after a few swigs. I so hate to waste. Continue reading

no bacon

No bacon. That’s what the doctor ordered. Irritable Bowel Syndrome is no fun for a foodie. Doc says it’s due to a combination of contributing factors – mainly a massive accumulation of stress and a stomach bug that refuses to die, lurking in the nether regions of my digestion, making malevolent hiccups.

The reality? Pain. More pain in a world of pain. And the agony? No bacon or ham or preserved foods (aargh, but I love cured meats!). No dairy (not fond of milk anyway, but cheese and butter are things I do love). Just fish, fresh vegetable, and limited fruit. Of course, opinions vary where it comes to the IBS diet, because there really isn’t any such thing – that is, science is unsure so us humans just keep on guessing. However, the Christmas binge-ing and subsequent punishment sent a clear message to my very stubbornly food-driven brain that the “no meats” advice was good advice indeed. Also, no wheat infused foods. That’s ok, pasta and wheat noodles can be easily substituted with vermicelli and rice. But no chicken or pork? And “Eat lots of fish!” ???? Haaaaaalp!  Continue reading

oil in my lamp

Noshment. Sustenance. Oil in my physical lamp. Goodness for my soul. And thankfulness in the spirit. The family – mum, baby sis, brother-in-law, furry boys, and helper Nula – had lunch at our usual favourite yesterday, but at a new location. It seems as if the neighbourhood malls are more crowded than the main shopping street in the city. I bring my mental clement space with me. It is a struggle, most definitely, but equilibrium is what I seek. Continue reading