pica_pica

Empathy: n.

the action of understanding, being aware of, being sensitive to, and vicariously experiencing the feelings, thoughts, and experience of another of either the past or present without having the feelings, thoughts, and experience fully communicated in an objectively explicit manner;


curse or blessing?

Both, I think. Dead center, right in the middle, a tightrope, a supersonic seesaw.

People with down syndrome like me immediately.
In a crowded bus stop, theyll shyly scan the faces and upon landing on mine it seems they suddenly feel at ease to smile and approach for a conversation. That's ok, I like them too.
(youd have to be retarded to like that guy, shed say, and launch into a Brothers Grimm tale for the rest of the people waiting and watching.).

And if I was an autistic child, I would want to sing. I would want my voice to be beautiful, haunting and somewhat surreal. The type of singing where there are no discernable words, but everybody that hears it instantly understands what Im saying and sometimes they cry. The type of singing that will become the subject of future paintings in hues of ultraviolet and infrared.

But Im not, and I dont really know anything about autism, but I bet it knows a helluva lot more about us than well ever understand about it.

I want to watch a movie of what Morgan is dreaming about when he wakes me in the middle of the night with his yelps and violent kicking.

I want to play the cello.
I saw the most beautiful electric cello on Sunday.

I want to hook up a midi keyboard to my computer. This, I am going to do on Saturday. This, I can afford.

I want everybody to stop being cruel. Not just to each other, but even the more difficult task of not being cruel to themselves. I want to join them when they do stop.

Other meaningless drivel:

Fluctuating shower temperatures in the morning can put me in a bad mood.

The first fly of the year inside my home always gives me the heebie jeebies when it lands on me. I jump up and flail at it with no obvious motor control.

Morgan tripped and fell last night while I was walking him. He had a hard time getting up. He didnt trip on anything and I am worried about him. He seems to be slowly getting some weird imbalance thing where his back end will be outside of his own motor control. No matter how old he is when I finally have to do that thing I can barely contemplate, I will think that he died too young and that that is her fault. I simply cannot fill the void in his life, as hard as I try and he often looks so sad. I sometimes think I am beginning to witness the life beginning to drain from him.
I will blame it on her abandonment of him.
I will blame her, realistic or not.

Im not really a morose person all the time. I still seem to love using this thing simply as a way to get my darker shit out. I do joke and smile out here sometimes you know.

I didnt dream last night. They seem to come in waves, and this week must be low-tide.