‘Do I have compassion for myself’
Portsmouth December17th :
‘Sometimes I am in-doubt as if caste upon a strange unfamiliar shore’
Believing,
needing,
feeding,
that black-hole at the centre of my universe eating as it spins consuming not only words but confessions. ‘Art-science’ I think defines aspergers for me – observing – defining – reciting – slots – conjoins – values – symbiotic – receptors – binding – triggering – communicating a love affair.
accepted difference +
Socially,
others,
non understanders,
deliberaters
abusers
blockers that creep between membranes rejecting my differences as if they were non existent slots – never settling – never to activate on receipt or trigger positive thought. Leaving me to doubt my worth in pounds and pence and acceptability.
unaccepted difference –
‘do not pass the scales when I desire to find how balanced I am’
‘Please do not hesitate to send me a number where I can reach you Hawthorne’
Portsmouth: December 13th
Writing, sitting, listening to the fracking debate on the radio having caught my attention not only due to the news but being a trained geologist – its an interest of mine – whats underground – drawn to whats hidden. There is also another link/connection- I was able to attend a weekend of Ideas at the Barbican winning a twitter competition where one of the debates was about ‘Fracking’ – there on twitter and soon after in the lobby I met and chatted to one of the commissioning organisations Trustees – I like synchronicity.
Small worlds – where the virtual and real cross – connecting and patterns are an asperger obsession with me. Seemed strange being in the Barbican again though – I was last there in the early eighty’s quite soon after it opened – I particularly remember meeting Hunterwasser at his PV and having my mind Set changed by an exhibition of the Danish artist ‘Asger Jorn’ – The first I could really taste and hear (my Synaesthesia latent but reason unknown at that point) but again its down to asperger at the core.
I sometimes ask where did it come from in the family? How far back – if I look can I see a pattern develop – relatives – children – grandparents – the project is widening and the boundary between personal and project keeps blurring the more I look. Is it changing because I am looking? does the knowledge now change the history or just overlay like multiple sheets of tracing paper – to many and the original looses definition.
Fracking – cracking – have after several weeks of coding finally systemised another more important element of the project – never done by half now – stepped away into new territory – learning more that I can make – setting new rules before creation or are the rules the creation? – do I let the process underpinning the work be obvious or deliberately obscured – Choice – choice – choice – where to draw that line – does it really matter?
Imperceptibly blurring boundary’s again I need more ‘evidences’, more collecting to soothe an aspie mind.
Pages
Pages
Pages
Pages
of audible numbering
Pages
pages
Pages
or audible numbering (repeat)
‘one of the following 8 items is bogus’
Portsmouth December 6th: Failed to leave the house today – dark when I woke – dark now. Rain has come and gone along with a builder in a red van. Have spent all day dividing photographs taken on phone and researching project links on the web.
Disturbed dreaming turmoil boils skin thin beneath the heated blanket I sit under. A child next door screams and stamp again – they must belong to the ‘unhappiest children in the universe’ I am supposed to be ‘elsewhere’ but am unable to deliver – bonds invisible to the eye hold me – hold me in – side.
one Saturday I did meet Harry at the leaving do, held underground after skirting a closed Trafalgar SQ in the rain and darkness. ‘F*** work’ he said referring to his time looking after those ‘lost for words’ and what was imposed on them. Apparent Dyslexia has another 8 letters to play with in no predetermined order of celebration. Another puzzle to find the pieces that fit – switch on ‘automatic spell cheek’
So select and post on social media the odd one out.
Oblivious
Antarctic
Hoover
lid
Saturn
moral
ship
cup
‘An unmotivated seeings of connections’
Portsmouth December 6th: 16 random phrases – please cut and repeat under your breath in public.
Strict rules
Reiteration dismissal
Pulse transformation
Limited autonomy
Single permissions
Austere technology
Move in endless circles
Serious exposure
Immobile emphasis
I am cold
Stylistic pitch
Goal directed motion
Seductive propaganda
Dangerous aspect
Serial output
Structure stasis
‘For my feet have gained guile’
Portsmouth December 6th: System process system process. Morning alterations no longer an early riser but the dreams have become violent watching fingers move tick tock tick tock tick tock as the evenings draw in tight and icy. No more to travel – waiting for results.
She is here – she lights up – she moves after a minimalist fashion in multiple ways to choose – attempts to filter the essence lays ahead but the process is fixed written in stone and drawn in boxes with key codes in sharp pencil.
I learn to lean on my A S P E R G E R and shout O X Y T O C I N to eliminate random movements set free to run each picked out in red momentarily against aluminum – reflecting in series – rhythmic in length and step back and forth transforming as I turn.
To choose the whole or the detail – retreading through ripple marked sands – each worm cast stands proud against the retreating salted waters – each a world inhabited for feeding – breeding – perpetuation of the self in leaner times. The beach falls away preserved for 128 million years – time and moment caught as cemented sand grains mimic the home.
I can see its place in the timeline
I can see its worth
I can see the traces of life
I can see the whole.
I can see the process
I can see the sound
