I did mostly have nightmares last night but I also dreamt of a Psych - Leverage crossover where they were also Scooby Doo. They were chasing various mythical monsters through the suburbs. I cannot tell you how it ended because I woke up. Shawn was Freddie
i keep thinking about how rfk said that autistic people "will never write a poem." i keep thinking about that, about if humanity is calculated on the back of old verse. how far we measure personhood is in baseball and stanza breaks.
i keep thinking - i have over 7k poems on here alone. language can be a special interest, after all. did you know the word autism comes almost direct from the greek word autos, meaning "self"? self-ism.
maybe he is right - i haven't really played baseball. i was a ballet dancer instead. and besides - my sister once accidentally hit me in the face with an aluminum bat. i'm not sure if the injury gives me half points. am i only a person in the dugout? hand in a mitt? swinging?
does softball count? does cricket? am i a person if i throw the ball to my dog. am i a person as long as the ball is in the air, or do i stop being a person as it rolls into the bushes. i took my girlfriend to fenway recently; was i a person in the sun, with my hands up, with the game laid out at my feet in a diamond. i felt like a person, but that was back in the summer, and i often feel my most person-like then.
am i more of a person because of the sheer number of things i've written? does quality matter, or is it quantity? i used to write entire books every summer in high school - i wasn't doing well. i felt the least like-a-person back then. but then - does any person feel human in high school?
in the library, ink on my skin, i feel personhood shutter at the edges of myself. actually, writing feels blissfully like not being myself. it feels birdlike; escaping into creation so my body dissolves and i survive only by muscle memory. i am not there, i am writing.
but who can deny the falconlike focus of warsan shire, the tenderness of mary oliver, the sheer skill of amanda gorman. those are poets. they are certainly human. you could line them up with the way their words have influenced us and measure their literary shadows like wings.
perhaps it was very assumptive of me to want to be a poet rather than "a [ label ] poet." i wanted the work to fill itself in, rather than be stained by what i am. i do not write in despite of my neurodivergence, i am just neurodivergent and writing.
does the poem have to be in english or can i send it through my palms into the coat of my dog. does the poem have to make sense. does the poem have to love you back.
if i break a glass, will the poem appear naturally? or is the act of breaking the glass human-enough. the shards of my life glittering out beneath me - do i have to write the poem, or is it self-evident in the pile of glass splinters? i cannot grasp this world the way other people can. regardless, i endeavor to touch - even the mess - very gently.
i broke my toenail against my coffee table recently. i released a bug outdoors. i made coffee. i walked my dog.
i didn't write a poem about any of these things.
something else, then. existing without humanity.
I love how Kipperlilly Copperkettle was so clearly meant to be a foil for Riz but instead Kristen decides to run for president. Not the guy who needed more extracurriculars, but the person who really needs to focus on a completely different thing or a god will die and she will fail school. Then Adaine decides she hates Kipperlilly and starts calling her anything besides her actual name. Riz doesn’t seem more specifically bothered by her than the other ratgrinders. Ally has gone so unhinged this season it is messing with Brennans narrative plans
On my cop arc (have to proctor an exam)
I’ve sustained a massive workplace injury (paper cut)
Most nerve racking scenes of Neverafter, the horror season of D20, are hands down any time Gerard has to speak to his wife
Is it a personality flaw or is it autism?
Surprise: it’s somehow both!
my wife has shingled her gingerbread house with peanut butter and cheezits
A friendly reminder to USians: if you are planning to vote on Election Day, your mantra is "Nothing I see today convinces me not to go vote."
Exit polls suggest DT cannot be caught? YOU STILL GO VOTE.
Exit polls suggest KH has it in the bag? YOU STILL GO VOTE.
Pundits are saying the country is swinging overwhelmingly red? YOU STILL GO VOTE.
Pundits are saying the country is swinging overwhelmingly blue? YOU STILL GO VOTE.
Polls can be misleading (intentionally or not). The methodology can be biased (or simply poor). Early results may not reflect what the full count will show. There may be a red mirage. NOTHING YOU SEE CONVINCES YOU NOT TO VOTE.
The biggest Democratic win in swing states means nothing if democrats don't turn out everywhere to keep the reliably blue states blue.
VOTE. Wear appropriate weather gear if you think you may have to stand in a line outside (coat, hat, gloves, umbrella, sunhat, whatever, you know where you live). Bring water and a snack and something to do (book, game on your phone, podcast and headphones, whatever, you know what you like). GO VOTE.
NOTHING YOU SEE ON ELECTION DAY CONVINCES YOU NOT TO VOTE.
Listen, do I ship Riz and Fabian? Absolutely not. Riz is aroace. However, something distinctly queer is happening here. Comphet much? Fabian continuously bringing up The Ball instead of getting his kisses in. I mean come on.
Fantasy high junior year comes out 2 days before I take the MCAT. At first I was upset by this, but now I’m not even scared for the MCAT? I literally don’t care about it. I’m just excited for the day it’s over so I can watch fantasy high. This is literally a major breakthrough. I was having such a terrible time. Studying is now easier because I can just see it as preparation for fantasy high