Tags
Autism, Autism Functioning, Determination, God, Help, Hope, Love, Passion, Words, Writing
Dear Readers:
Yesterday I had to go to the senior center for which I perform, twice
a month, on my violin for the temporary, physical rehabilitation
residents. But, I wasn’t going to perform, I was going in for my TB
test. All workers and volunteers are required to take an annual TB
test. The problem is that I utterly abhor needles. They’re like the
sting of the devil’s tail that punctures my skin with the burning of
hell metamorphosized into the dwelling for which the Abaddon of my
skin would then become. I actually started to get light-headed and I
even began weeping, just a little mind thee. The RN in charge of the
test told me that “all men are scared of needles”. I was so flattered
by his comment. Having done so many shots of all sorts, I’m sure, all
his life, a six foot and four inch tall and cut man—albeit autistic—is
no never mind to him.
On the drive back, since it took a while, I rolled down my windows and
just let the fairly warm breeze cool me off in the hot weather due to
my eighty five mile per hour velocity on the freeway (I was still
getting passed by speeders). I began meditating heavily on my Autism
and the fact that I’ve been, now for what seems an eternity, holding
all what society deems “sociable behavior” that I began to take in a
sensation and emotion of betrayal. I felt so betrayed by society
because there has been naught in the nature for me to behave in the
manner which is totally normal, yet neurologically atypical. I thought
of so many other Autistic individuals seemingly free and open to enact
their ticks and stemming habits which were, for all intents and
purposes, accepted by peers and peoples around them; even though their
behavior is not necessarily sociably adequate in our common-place
happenstance of non-autistic people. Ergo, I imagined I was in room,
chamber or what have thee and I dropped all my walls; all my f#$ki*g
walls! I was making sounds; I was bobbing back and forth… I was a
total weirdo! OMG, it felt so good! I wish there were places I knew of
which would allow me a sort of release. Imagining people watching me
behave in such a way is one thing. But, to be in the vicinity of
people who are thoroughly acquainted with Autism that allows me
perhaps naught more than a mere hour of release, that would be a
neurological spa!
I invented a language. Although my wife and I are working towards
YouTube monetization, it’s a slow process when you’re not standing on
the shoulders of the Kardshians. All the same, these things called
rent, food and bills require the acquisition of monetary earnings
rendered for services upon which we staple our day as earned of such
bread every night we lie for slumber. Thus, the articles of temporal
expenditures reconnoiter our situation grievously. Furthermore, on the
tresses of a rift in technological advancement we are elevated into an
age of bio-mechanical renderings of our bodies, ere the conclusion of
a twenty four hour day, our carnal forms lie at the behest, still, of
the need behind the six hours for which our rapid eye movement may
replenish the loss of vitality only to be given its due course for
every morrow. Alas, that temporal cessations do not yet exist, not
that I desire such a phenomenon to even be so lest our consciousness
falls perished to a constant paradox of space-time continuum rifting,
evermore.
I’m working, therefore, now to see if avenues to traverse may welcome
a man of artistic value in a world I believe is terribly wanting of
it. In the language I created, known heretofore as Angellian, such
calligraphy can surely captivate a room and attest to the beauty and
majesty not just of black ink upon beige canvas but that of a world in
whose color, shape, size and style are only the outer tresses
incorporated by the infinity my language can so generate.
I’ve always known that my talents that God gave me has certainly lied
in the art of words. Music, albeit not so scientific as words,
nevertheless holds the true universal language; a form of
communication that is, I beg thy pardon mathematicians, far beyond
such a science. The loftiness of music excels that of God and into the
realms beyond for which we call Heaven. Moreover, the calligraphy that
I feel would be a great showcase is all but a para-metamorphoses dwelt
in its own created apotheosis I take only credit in my hands, fingers
and eyes. All else, whither, lies in the creation for which God
uttered the very words: “let there be light.”
I am endeavoring to be more active on social media. Curse it! But,
such sentiments I did so chare for emails and even Starbucks at one
point. I do so prefer slower and simpler ways of living. Regardless, I
shall adapt to live, for I am past surviving. I hope you may all begin
to enjoy my artwork and calligraphy of Angellian. Maybe tomorrow I can
somehow write to thee all and explain the depths of the language,
because I am myself marveled at its complexity in the dichotomy of its
simplicity.
Blessings, abundant, to thee all. The past two years have been quite
character building. More upon such a subject later.
May the lord bless thee, keep thee, make his face to so shine upon
thee, lift his countenance to thee and bestow upon thee all peace. Enn
oste’t namm tou’f oste’t patroser. Enn oste’t namm tou’f oste’t sonne.
Enn oste’t namm tou’f oste’t sancte’sunne. Amen.
Thanks for reading.
-The Giver of Words.
P.S. to all struggling with Autism, it’s possible…. Don’t give up.
-G.