dog cafe

Saturday Brunch for two again at Not Just Coffee with Rick. Our “dog cafe” in Paddo. It poured with rain earlier this morning, but we prevailed. The elements accorded a little respite, and there we were, just an hour later than our planned appointment. The ground was soaked, but anticipation of dynamic, vigorous and energetic polyphonic conversation overtook sensory aversion. We ordered something different this time. Delicious!

It is much clement to have a good friend. Very much.

more grace notes


Head down, bottom up… SOS!

Grace notes occurring in the midst of forceful fury.

Overwhelmed inside churning, heaving and seething vortex of existential and corporeal torment – unrelenting in its pursuit of dignity’s destruction, unrepentant in its indecent mockery – the arhythmic pounding of crass insistence overtakes consciousness.

There, the little grace notes appear. Silent fluttering wings of delicate rectitude, without force, without rude encroachment.

Listen to the soft, gentle and sometimes whimsical intonations of clemency, and the sighs of gratitude amidst shimmering spasms of tender affliction. Continue reading

walk on


Leftovers for Breakfast

Leftover fish and chips from Massimo’s Arthouse Kitchen for breakfast this morning. Our final day in Sydney. We said our goodbyes to beloved Paddington and our former neighbours yesterday. Very sad to learn that ‘Old Bill’ who lived across the road from us had passed away during our absence. He was always so gentle and kind, and Lucy loved visiting because Bill always had doggy treats for her. I remember the lovely Chopin Etudes he used to play on his little baby grand, it made me smile and yearn for musical days gone by. Walking down the street towards Wendy’s and Peter’s, we bumped into Judy and her sweet fluffy Sam. Fifi, the little rescued teacup poodle heard us and began to bark – Wendy came out from inside, and we were soon engulfed in animated conversation. Continue reading

Christmas Fever

Yes, fever. No, not the metaphorical reference that everyone is used to.

Christmas (and any festivity) for me = Fever.

As in…

fever |ˈfēvər|noun – an abnormally high body temperature, usually accompanied by shivering, headache, and in severe instances, delirium…

And… mouth ulcers… throat ulcers… pain… a lot of physical pain… neuropathic, muscular, joint, and whatever else the overloaded senses decides to throw at me. A literal Hot Pot. 🙂

Merry, merry, merry!

But… Continue reading

vaya con dios

Recycling food. Reinventing cheap. Facing the challenge of temporary poverty with hopeful gravity. Peasant’s lunch, laughing with joy, cutting the kite strings.

At last, a long time coming. A cadential resolution. On a minor tonality. But there is peace. Cutting lose the threads that bind to old and rotting hessian sacks from the past. Simplifying. Clarifying. Releasing. Continue reading


Keeping warm…

Trundling along in my little creaky wheelbarrow, rust flakes falling off and blowing away in the gentle breeze as my vessel bumps and bounces on the rocky road, I have been the fortunate recipient of such wonderful support that I often shake my head in disbelief. I do not deserve this love, respect and regard. I do not even see some of these amazing friends often at all, as they either live far away, or in different countries. They ask nothing of me, not even my company, and I stand in awe and wonderment at this almost surreal existence. Continue reading


We had hotpot some Saturdays ago. For the uninitiated, it’s a kind of fondue, but with soup and a huge variety of tasties, all done Chinese style. The dish is traditionally eaten in the colder months. One can easily imagine the visuals of a group of people gathering together, whether family or friends, around a hot steaming bubbling pot of broth, hungry and cold, slowly warmed by the boiling pot and food, and for the more social minded of us, the chatter and collection of human bodies adds to the ‘warming’ process too (though that is agony to people like me, and the part that I most dislike). In the sunny warm humid tropics, this is still a favourite – either enjoyed in the evenings outdoors (hoping for gentle breeze) or with the air-conditioning full blast. 🙂 Continue reading

best friends


No, Lucy is not my “best friend.” Nobody is. I do not have a “best friend” – well, not anymore. And I am very relieved.

Socially-focused humans have a way of declaring inordinate affection with far too much ease. “I love you!” becomes a trendy catch phrase, instead of a sincere utterance of decided, solemn dedication. “You are lovely!” seems to be tossed out willy nilly at every single corporeal entity that jostles the atmosphere, even if ever so slightly.

The autistic mind tends to take language a tad more seriously, preferring the literal, cutting factual deposition to socially-driven platitudes. Are we ‘cold’ and ‘unloving’ creatures running on robotic mechanisms, then? That is what too many misinformed and emotionally effluent social-brained folk seem to delight in thinking, played up and egged along by the media. Oh, and don’t even get me started on Autism Speaks. The truth is, we are far more devout and zealous about our devotions and emotional attachments than most, especially much more so than the socially-driven, party-populating neurotypicals.

I shudder when I meet someone new who instantly falls head over heels in love with me. Continue reading

good friends

Everyone needs friends. Good friends are a crucial support system in times of need, and that includes whenever one needs to share a good laugh, great food, rant or ramble, and even intellectual argument (or dramatic narrative)!

I feel extremely blessed to have a number of very good friends, who help make my life so much easier, and the journey a great deal less bumpy. Continue reading

a busy week

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A busy week. Where did the time go? How do we sense the passage of time in place and space? I feel through my fingertips the liquid dust slipping, sliding, seeping inexorably towards, then past, and away from me. So much tiredness. Bursts of frenetic scrambling scrunching engaging with mind and concrete materiality. Body and mind in a grumbling atonal dissonant Call and Response. The dishes pile up as I plunge into work. I need a Jeeves – I can feel the grittiness of the floor under my feet. Washed and dried laundry waiting for me in an impatient mess. Boxes of ‘things’ still unresolved. Visual discomfort. I need shelves. And a Jeeves. Continue reading