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The talking chalkboard at the local cafe is remarkably prescient. I've taken to showing up just so I can focus on what's going on in my other mind, where conversational snippets latch on to the thoughts I can see but not say. Processing those emotions and visions and hanging words on them feels like mixing cement with a plastic spoon I can't afford to break.
I am thinking about this picture:
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Someone else opined that the picture was interesting but it was out of scale.
"Oh? What's out of scale?" I asked.
Brief pause. "You're bigger than that."
"Um, that's not what the picture is saying."
"The picture is not telling all of the truth."
"What's it not saying?" I am puzzled. The picture says exactly what I want it to.
"I'm not seeing insight, will, capacity, intelligence, resourcefulness. I'm not seeing the fact that you know your intelligence is not necessarily your friend."
"That's in there. Those thunderheads are thoughts."
"Yes. They are. But they're not insightful, willing, capacious, or resourceful. They're just as intelligent as anything can be inside a tornado."
Deathcake is not intelligent. Like any evil thing, it's banal in the extreme, the perfect codification of what average, mediocre, dull, common, usual, stereotypical tropes are. It's what comes of a too-early and too-uncritical acceptance that what works for most people is what will work for an aspie, the glib refusal to notice that an aspie is not most people, or that we advising people not like us is just about telling them what everyone else tells them.
It's what we serve each other when we trot out platitudes about where success is in life. Better to leverage ancient wisdom:
I found that worth a long, contemplative reflection.
Deathcake is a lie. It can be witnessed against, but if witnessed against, it must also be prosecuted as a slander by the Hanging Judge.
It's as risky to prosecute an evil judge in the law as it is to accuse a guilty priest before the altar, and it's as necessary.
The talking chalkboard at the local cafe is remarkably prescient. I've taken to showing up just so I can focus on what's going on in my other mind, where conversational snippets latch on to the thoughts I can see but not say. Processing those emotions and visions and hanging words on them feels like mixing cement with a plastic spoon I can't afford to break.
I am thinking about this picture:
View attachment 15344
Someone else opined that the picture was interesting but it was out of scale.
"Oh? What's out of scale?" I asked.
Brief pause. "You're bigger than that."
"Um, that's not what the picture is saying."
"The picture is not telling all of the truth."
"What's it not saying?" I am puzzled. The picture says exactly what I want it to.
"I'm not seeing insight, will, capacity, intelligence, resourcefulness. I'm not seeing the fact that you know your intelligence is not necessarily your friend."
"That's in there. Those thunderheads are thoughts."
"Yes. They are. But they're not insightful, willing, capacious, or resourceful. They're just as intelligent as anything can be inside a tornado."
Deathcake is not intelligent. Like any evil thing, it's banal in the extreme, the perfect codification of what average, mediocre, dull, common, usual, stereotypical tropes are. It's what comes of a too-early and too-uncritical acceptance that what works for most people is what will work for an aspie, the glib refusal to notice that an aspie is not most people, or that we advising people not like us is just about telling them what everyone else tells them.
It's what we serve each other when we trot out platitudes about where success is in life. Better to leverage ancient wisdom:
Success and failure?
No certain address.
--T'ao Ch'ien
You ask guidance, rules,
for success and failure:
the fisherman's song strikes
deep up the cove.
--Wang Wei
Wang Wei's truth invokes the ancient tale of the fisherman who accidentally found paradise, and left a trail behind to show his village where success was. Unfortunately his trail couldn't be followed; his song alone he had left behind, nothing more to show where he'd been. However, he was successful as a fisherman.No certain address.
--T'ao Ch'ien
You ask guidance, rules,
for success and failure:
the fisherman's song strikes
deep up the cove.
--Wang Wei
I found that worth a long, contemplative reflection.
Deathcake is a lie. It can be witnessed against, but if witnessed against, it must also be prosecuted as a slander by the Hanging Judge.
It's as risky to prosecute an evil judge in the law as it is to accuse a guilty priest before the altar, and it's as necessary.
