crafting clement space

Lucy has been busy inspiring this autistic Bunny yet again. We are crafting “Clement Space in the City (2017)” – getting ready for the Neurodiverse-city exhibition at the Customs House, Sydney, opening 20 September 2017! All part of a huge and amazing project, the BIG Anxiety festival 2017.

(Sorry, all Lucy-fans out there, I will not be taking her to the festival – not unless someone is willing to sponsor a return Business Class ticket on Qantas and the preparation costs.)

wobbly

Musing on a puff.

Uncertainty is wobbly. It tastes like stale reflux from mushrooms. A purplish-brown. An insistent low howl in the ear. Not pleasant at all. Wobbly. With no known cadential resolution in sight. Even the seemingly random reflections of nature contain discernible patterns, and comforting pulsations of regularity, order and organisation.

The autistic brain is not bosom friends with uncertainty. In fact, this quivering gelatinous dynamic mass often creates unnecessary mental, emotional and physical grief for the autist. It is a contentious point that creates friction between the autistic and non-autistic neurocultures.  Continue reading

beads

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we traverse…

Anxiety is a demon, roaring fury echoing in mocking silence, dancing tentacles teasing and mutilating quivering raw flesh. Shortness of breath and throbbing heart escalating into blazing fury, gasping for breath under thick smoking dusty throws, pearly beads of toxic pain oozing from unseen frantic pores.

The Canine Angel is a mysterious entity. One does not need her the way air is exigency for life’s breath. In fact, many inconveniences present incorrigible upon such Angelic visitation. The Angel does not wait for opportune time and space, her Beingness occupies your entire ecology. She creates calm from chaos, yet stirring waves so gently disruptive the heavens chortle in cruel delight. Continue reading

foul

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rose, rose… beware those insidious piercing thorns

“Fair is foul and foul is fair: Hover through the foul and filthy air.” – Macbeth.
The normative social world is at best a confusing nightmare for a straight-thinking autist, and at worst a cesspool of toxic madness. What is to my mind a maelstrom of twisted and bizarre social drama, is “normal” to the players in this neurotic theatre, where too few are capable of speaking directly and honestly as a matter of habit. People say one thing in private, and a completely different thing in public. They promise one set of parameters, but once inside their frame of charity, they change their minds and proceed to do as they please. Don’t get me wrong, I am well aware that autistic people are capable of causing great offence too. But in my experience, they do so in a much more direct and predictable (to me) way, making it easier for me to deal with.

Continue reading

tea for two

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HK Street Bites

Just the two of us. It’s been some time. My baby sister and me. A hot, humid tropical Friday. A mini outing. Nothing fancy. Hopped onto the shuttle bus to the nearby shopping mall. Popped into the pharmacy for my panadol. And then Tea for Two.

I originally wanted local Singaporean fare at Han’s Cafe, but when we got there, it was teeming with the lunch-time crowd. The sound of clattering cutlery, trays and buzzing chattering voices, the human bodies shuffling in and out, and the strong smells of cheap perfume, cooked food and sweaty bodies created sensory havoc.

My sister is ever so resourceful: she knows where to go and when. She led me upstairs to this little nook, where they sell Hong Kong style mini-bites and desserts. Phew! Continue reading

sentient towels

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No, it’s not Pokemon.

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Can you hear them sing?

Sentient Towels. My friend Brad coined the term. I think it is brilliant.

These insidiously malodorous entities have a life of their own. Each one energised by a buzzing, bustling eco-system of bacteria chowing down on decaying micro-flakes of human skin, sweat and whatnot embedded in its thick fibrous tapestry. The entire bathroom reeks from the cacophony of activity, a raucous macabre Dies Irae in elaborate counterpoint. And yes, the merry village and inhabitants, remain there for weeks – sights, sounds, smells and lively jiving – unless I take them to the laundry room myself. Rightful owner of these beings either cannot be bothered (simply to lazy) or, perhaps, actually likes his little critters that way?

My own thought processes have short-circuited, contemplating the various possibilities behind this frightening phenomenon.

Someday, I shall write about the serious repercussions of Inclement Space upon the mental and physical wellbeing. For now, these little babbly ramblings are all I can muster.

Dinner tonight – two panadols and half a glass of warm water. This foodie has stopped fooding. A neighbour remarked to me, “How can you even live in there, let alone actually eat in that kind of condition?” What can I say? I merely smiled, shrugged, and shuddered alongside her.

The Sentient Towels are roaring in their stolid, stubborn silence.

 


 

Another delayed post. Written awhile ago. The roaring olfactory oppression helped to propel me into action – I have left this hell. Never to return.

sad nosh

Sad nosh. Uninspired hunger. Cyclical despair. Stultified stillness. Desperate isolation – PLEASE do not disturb! Just go away! Thrashing, kicking, screaming silence. Jumping from hot sizzling oil into seething heaving bog. Deprivation and excess in twisted pas de deux. Scraping with broken coin. Tunnelling for salvation. Down, down, down.

How low can you go? Is there a bottom anywhere?

 

implosion

They say it sometimes takes awhile for trauma sufferers to recount a particularly confronting event. In the grand cosmic struggle of life, perhaps this tiny little bubble of hideous dread may not measure up against the more solemn travails. However, it was a kind of ‘home-coming’ that needed time and space to communicate in intelligible wordedness. Here, it’s worth a feeble attempt anyway.

Welcome back to Sensory Perdition. New and improved version… Yes, indeed, a worse state than before. This is the looming shadow of fear. Five lovely days away, cocooned inside tranquil cleanliness, yet unable to erase the horror, the anticipation of sensory agony, awaiting upon return to reality. Continue reading

catch up

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Yum Cha for Two?

Friends and friendships are important. Contrary to popular misconception, autistic persons do not hide inside our own worlds as some kind of stubborn, deliberate contrariness, antagonsing the ‘normal’ world with our reluctance to connect. Autists merely have different connectivity pathways, and thresholds for interactivity modes that are not intrinsically native to our distinct functionality. Continue reading