stew

Festive seasons are to me like stew. I love food. I love eating. But I am wary of stew. Things get thrown willy nilly into a large pot, stirred, cooked and cooked, and then poured out in a chunky, goopy, mass. The sound it makes when a scoop of the stuff hits the plate or bowl? Quite nauseating, like a soft belching blended and layered with thick, dull, stretched out staccato. I do not much like stew. And I do not much like festivities.

Regardless, it was a goodly Christmas and New Year over here for this Autistic Foodie Bunny, and I am beginning to learn how to actually enjoy these things.  Continue reading

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Merry Theory of My Mind

Theory of Mind is a theory, or is it? Dancing around alien fires. Whose Theory and whose Mind?

While it is not true that autistic people lack empathy due to their inability to decipher other people’s mindscapes, I myself admit to being stumped, over and over again, by other people’s thoughts, motives, and actions.

Take, for example, this somewhat questionable penchant for offering help, mixed with an innate inability to make quick enough assessment of character and/or predict potential disaster. Not a good combination by far. Continue reading

bite

Musing on the act of biting and relationships. No, not about dogs. Humans.

Lunched with an old friend last week. At my favourite haunt, of course. I am a creature of comfortable habit. We’ve known each other for more than 40 years and counting. A childhood friend. A rare gem, in this day of unpredictability and flux.

Relationships. Relatedness. Relatives. Relativity. A minefield or impending doom, or pasture of goodness? It depends. Teetering, mostly, and / or prancing delicately with fearful vigour through the swaying tulips, trying to avoid crushing the flowers but often failing to notice the sharp glass shards on the ground. Continue reading

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.

pockets of clemency

Sunday brunch with Rick at “dog cafe”. A pocket of clement space. Empathic resonance. Deep laughter. Ranting at cosmic tragi-comedy. Summoning Artaud and Wagner. Light in darkness. Cosy cocoon inside Paddington.

Good to be back. But… I miss Lucy. Especially here, in our beloved Paddo.

knife

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knife

This was lunch. A late lunch. At one of my favourite cafes. The whole work of art came as photographed. Not my design, but that of its creator. In the midst of making contact with this delicious looking and fragrantly enticing installation, as if by yet another cosmic libretto of tragi-comedic farce, came spears and arrows from the deep, dark, unspeakable Abyss. In real time, the Bunny’s mindscape became a multi-dimensional stage – enter the surreal hyper-real oxymoronic characters and what have you. Wagner and Artaud, do your very best yet again! (And no, sadly, I did not manage to finish my lunch.) Continue reading

extempore

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Sashimi Set @ Ichiban Boshi

I am autistic. I really do prefer order above chaos, routine above last minute spur-of-the-moment excitement. And dinner outside of home base is actually not something I enjoy very much at all. In fact, these days, I rarely accept dinner invitations, almost never attend concerts and exhibition openings unless I was performing or exhibiting. The sensory struggle is just not worth it anymore, and I am too old for this kind of neuronormative mimicry anyway. Yet, there I was, clutching a generous gift voucher in my hand, expiring in 24 hours, dashing off to dinner in a somewhat dishevelled state: shorts, T-shirt, canvas shoes, no make-up and messy hair. Most unglamorous. But Foodie Bunny must not let this go to waste! I was on a mission! Continue reading

hangover

It is a ‘hangover’ sort of day, and I spent much of it crashed out in my bedroom with Lucy, inside a whirly heaviness. I received very sad news this morning: a dear friend, Jack, passed away on Christmas Eve. He was a beautiful entity – generous, gracious and the perfect gentleman. Jack was Lucy’s first friend after she came into my life. Lucy is a minx, but Jack was the perfect gentleman. He shared his bed, his toys and his home with Lucy, who would hijack his space every time she visited. Jack was very well loved by his dads Nick and Monty, and everyone who had the honour of knowing Jack. I paid tribute to Jack via two Facebook posts, and mark his presence here in this blog post. It is my way of etching his memory even deeper into my Space of Mind… I am processing, churning… re-locating grief and loss, re-shelving memories… re-aligning myself with beauty…

But why ‘hangover’? Why ‘crash’? Continue reading

yellow flame

It’s Christmas again, and a brand New Year peeps at us from just around the corner. Instead of jacaranda, our morning walks are now across pathways strewn with yellow flame.

Last Christmas was a season of horror. Lucy lost part of her beautiful tail in an act of sickening callousness. A travesty, a defilement of my Lucy’s purity, heralding cosmic wailings that nobody may ever be able to hear, but myself and a very few whose ears are tuned to the whispers of realms beyond human-centricity. ‘Twas a season of wading through fetid pools overflowing with flotsam and jetsam of social plastic, brittle fondnesses, meaningless verbage (verbal garbage), locked inside the iron-fisted grip of grandiose benevolence. Continue reading

bff or wtf?

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Are you offended by my expressions and paradigms of love? Have you ever stopped to wonder if I may be hurt by yours too? What are the different paradigms for connectivity and forming interpersonal bonds? How do we each express attachment and intimacy? Do we ever ask ourselves these question when we interact with friends? How about friends we have known for decades? Continue reading