“He asked you to watch them, not wear them.”

Roaring lion

I figured I’d better do a bit of damage control after my recent ravings. I know many who read my blog are neurodiverse brethren who are younger than me, (literally, not the bullshit way allistic people measure age by time. I mean you who haven’t yet processed as much data as I have because your neural pathways are beautiful, and there are no shortcuts. Why use numbers to map a path never taken before? 😂) I’m assuming I freaked some of you out, and I’m hoping I didn’t trigger you closer to a meltdown. (Yes, I think all ND have them. Oops, you knew. My bad.)

Everything I said is rude. It’s not something I could have said to someone in a conversation, aside from the author of the letter. (That would have been borderline abusive.) I feel no shame for airing my feelings with wild abandon on the internet. I didn’t break any laws in America, even though you may have cringed as if I did. I’m sorry you couldn’t reach through the screen and figuratively punch me while you read it. It was uncomfortable to read; just as it was to write.

I share the way I do because life is terrifying for everyone. I don’t want you to miss any joy. I suspect we all get roughly the same amount, but the twisted, horrible part is, we usually don’t notice. We’re so preoccupied with licking the many, many wounds we collect along the way. I visualize this literally in my mind. We rarely look up to see the joy floating by. I’d love to see that as art, hint hint. 🙃 (Seriously, I’ll trade money for it. Take the risk and talk to me in comments about commish.)

I love it when I get a Life Skill hint from someone else. It’s like getting to move three steps forward in a single move. You may have seen me mention how floored I am by how many Life Skill hints Stevie Nicks shares, on occasion. (Heh, I can’t believe I typed “on occasion” with a straight face.  I can deadpan now!  I’m finally awesome!  💪🏽😂) My point: I drop them too because I love you. (Hope that didn’t make it weird.)

Relaxing lion

I know when I express rage my aim is so sloppy it’s offensive. I’m working on it. If I hurt you, I’m sorry. Look up. Here comes a hint. You’re incapable of rejecting a compliment/external encouragement. No matter how you feel about it, or react to it in real-time, the part of you that handles them accepts it at face value. The next three times you think of a sincere compliment to someone, I triple-dog-dare you to tell them. Secondary hint challenge: Sincerely complimenting, and encouraging those around you is nerve-wracking as hell until you start organizing the feedback data. (It’s why I’m ridic bold.)  There is only, and will only ever be one you.  That alone makes you (F-box button) incredible.  Build on it just because you can.

Start right away, eh? It’s because sincere compliments and encouragements to people are like hybrid mattresses. They absorb and reflect back twofold, and sleeping on them is fabulous. (Shup, I’m analogy challenged. 😂) If it doesn’t click now, save it for later, it’s my best hint. It’s ghetto Prozac, and consequently, an excellent reason to maintain a friendship with a hip-hop enthusiast. Hip-hop builds you up. It’s why Slim Shady makes you feel giddy. You’re welcome. (Bonus.)

Guilt bonus for parents of autists because I’m hard on you: Autisms only cause is Nature. She’s just doing her thing, experimenting with the complexity of our species’ CPU’s. I suspect we might get multicore processing someday if we don’t ruin everything first. She’s the original and only scientist with authority on this planet, and we’re still at her mercy. Despite that, we’re in an abusive relationship with her, and you know it. Let’s all do some damage control, and work on it. Peace.

p.s. Lily, I’m merely not done yet, I haven’t forgotten.  Thanks, you lovely lit geek.  You’re awesome. 💜

“George and I will miss your company.”


With all the infamous misogynists being called out on their horrific behavior, I’ve been feeling lots of things.  Anger, of course.  I’m also proud of the people who are coming forward to share their experiences as a result.  Since humans aren’t too keen on allowing their fellow humans to maintain their free will, I figured I’d create a solution in keeping with this mindset, (even if it’s just art.)

Wouldn’t it be wonderful if nobody had to worry about being objectified and abused by others?  Where such behavior had swift and clear consequences?  Where seeking justice for such treatment resulted in justice rather than further attacks and retaliation?  Where shame is assigned to the perpetrator rather than their victim?  I want to live in that world.

p.s.  You can click the image to view it at full size.


Once, to a dog. He licked himself and left the room.

My left ear hurts.  I’m running a low-grade fever and just spent several minutes trying to remember why I entered the kitchen.  I also sound like Peppermint Patty, so I think I have an ear infection or something.  I’ll run it off tonight.  I didn’t sleep well last night.  I had stress dreams I forgot immediately after awakening, but the anxiety lingered.  I converted it into hyperactivity.  It’s better than feeling anxious, but the cost will show up tomorrow when the bruises appear.  I’m stuck in walking like I just learned how mode, so I’m bumping into everything.  I’m moving like my toon in World of Warcraft.  (I suspect I hold some sort of server record for most times dying from accidentally falling off shit.)  I’d better burn this off while running outside.  Staying on the treadmill while running is out of reach today.

I prefer running outside. However, the mosquito situation sucks when you run on bike trails that hug a river.  I have repellant, but it reeks.  I guess that’s better than skeeter bites.  My imagination usually suggests I may have bed bugs when I’m covered in skeeter bites and itchy while falling asleep, (despite my weekly linen rotation and daily bathing routine.)  My imagination is an asshole.  As an African American, I’ve never had head lice, but I’ve heard all about it.  (Most African Americans have square hair follicles.  North American lice affect round hair follicles.)  I guess it’s worth having hairs so thick they can defy the wind.  My imagination fucks with me about lice, despite this.  Hell yeah, I rub oil on my scalp to prevent itching from dry skin.  Still, my imagination has the gall to suggest I may be suffering from trichotillomania.  Ass. Hole.  🤣

I’ve been painting on my new iPad Pro with the Apple pencil.  Dear Wacom, thanks for everything, but I’ll no longer be needing your tools.  My iPad Pro made your company obsolete.  I’ll always remember our time together over the years before this innovative smack-down occurred. Buh-bye, now.  P.S.  Microsoft Surface line, too. Tut tut.  There’s an app that utilizes the iPad Pro as an outstanding wireless drawing tablet for your Apple machine.  Other apps allow you to use it as a standalone drawing tablet that far surpasses existing (consumer) drawing tablets.  As an Adobe Creative Cloud user, the Photoshop app was free, (included in rental.)  I got an outstanding drawing/painting app for $4.99.  (In the App Store, look under featured apps for the iPad Pro.)  I’m donating my Wacom to a public school art teacher.  (It’s still an excellent learning tool.)

I’m going to purchase another iPad clamp holder like the one I got for my drum kit.  It will allow me to adjust the position of the iPad as I paint, so it’ll replicate an easel on my desktop.  Actually, I think I’m just going to use the one I have now, and add a Bluetooth adapter to my drum kit.  I only use it to play along with music, so a dedicated resting place (for my phone) is unnecessary.  I forgot how easy it is to spend several hours painting.  I have a quirk that won’t allow me to listen to music while I paint.  I’m starting to think it’s a feature rather than a quirk because it prevents me from painting for too long.  Yep.  Going with a feature.  I’m having caffeine withdrawal.  (It took an embarrassing amount of time to figure out why I’ve had a headache for two days.)  I might have to do something I never thought I would do.  I might have to start drinking coffee. (It’s the only non-retail source of caffeine I can acquire.)

I like the smell of coffee beans, but I don’t like hot beverages.  (Not even hot chocolate with a gazillion marshmallows.)  It means I’ll have to acquire a taste as an American.  This is against everything I stand for!  It doesn’t make sense to repeatedly imbibe something that isn’t immediately delicious in a first world country!  Why have taste buds at all?!  (Calm down, Alison.)  Iced sugar water with enough coffee to prevent headaches, it is.  Sigh.  Dear Mountain Dew, I’ll always remember our time together.  You should divorce Pepsico and buy back all your stock.  Employee owned businesses are edgy.  Peace, out.  I should make a cape with my remaining Wonder Woman fabric.  Yep.  This is happening.  I’m off to make the ultimate empowering playlist for my run later.


I don’t have any money, but I have these.

I’ve been feeling overwhelming surges of creativity.  It’s awesome, in a way.  But it’s frustrating because I’m too inundated with noise.  The realization I’m wasting valuable inspiration made me panic, which wasn’t helpful.  So I’m taking drastic measures to get myself right as fast as possible.  I’ve fasted today except for water and a handful of pistachios.  (I have Graves Disease, so I allow tiny amounts of fat and protein, and pistachios are perfect.)  Feeling hungry is the only way I know how to grab hold of inspiration when my head is too loud.

Earlier, I went online to look for a portable amp for my bass.  Unfortunately, I was immediately distracted by fabulous, shiny, expensive guitars (I have no business even wishing for at my current skill level.)  Tangent:  I’m almost positive there’s an unwritten rule regarding instruments.  The finest ones belong to the most skilled players.  It’s like a musicians creed or something.  If you step up to play, and your instrument is so beautiful, every artist in the vicinity gasps, you’d better bring it.  I’ve not actually witnessed an instrument being confiscated by a better musician, but I suspect it’s happened.

I’ve had a recurring dream in which I acquired a Stradivarius violin.  I carried it with me everywhere because I wanted to hear how it sounded in various environs.  Then I ran into another violinist who admired the Stradivarius and asked if he could play it.  I always say yes, and he plays it so beautifully I begin weeping.  It ends there, but I awaken with the heaviness of loss each time.  I cry because I’ve never heard anyone play so well, and also because everything within me knows it’s his violin.  /Tangent

So anyway, I didn’t find an amp.  I guess I don’t need one.  😂  I have no idea how much time I spent drooling over $15k+ guitars, but it was fun.  I’m glad to know they exist.  Then I practiced my drums, guitar, and bass.  I’ve discovered I have to slow down on building endurance with my drums.  When I get tired, I get sloppy.  When I get sloppy, I get blisters.  So I practice for an hour, then move on to the next instrument.  I practiced on my acoustic guitar for a while, then my bass for about 20 minutes.

I’ll practice it longer when I learn some music.  For now, I just do scales, a few riffs, and done.  I decided on using my index finger first but ended up using my middle finger because it felt more natural.  It resonates so much it made me start feeling a bit numb.  I love the deep sound.  I’ll be glad when I can play faster.  The riffs in my head need me to hurry up and improve my skill.

I’m going to stretch outside after my run in the morning.  Here’s something you might not know:  Literally touching the ground with your bare feet can help silence the noise in your head.  Not cement, I mean grass or dirt or sand.  You’re welcome, says Ms. Literal.  😂  I’ve never been in the ocean, (and have no plans of ever doing such a thing.  Release the Kraken.)  However, I think it’s an even more powerful means of accomplishing the same thing.  The best part is you don’t have to get in.  You can watch the waves, or listen to them, and smell the ocean air.

The Badlands (and other former seas) work especially well, too.  I spent a lot of time as a teenager laying on the purple ground looking up at the pink and orange rock formations.  I didn’t understand why it called to me at the time.  I just knew it was the only place I’d found where I could experience peace.  I have a shitload of poems about The Badlands from that time.  They’re funny to read sometimes because I don’t remember ever being so deep.  I was so emo.  😂  Oh yeah!  A full moon is also a powerful means, (but you have to actually go outside.)

I can’t even tell if I’m inspired to paint, or compose, or what.  It’s like having an itch I can’t scratch.  But I need to stop focusing on the problem and get back to fixing it.  I’m off to meditate.  Stay hungry, my friends.