December 7, 2012 at 3:00 pm | Posted in 1, Compulsions, Humour, Mind, People, Sight, Society, Threats | 10 Comments
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Chairs Small

NOT as easy as it seems.

Few would comprehend (or believe) the lightning thinking that precedes your choice of chair.

You enter a waiting room (itself a feat).

First priority is safety.

Check the corners. Does one offer a view of the entrance through which your appointment will appear?

If so, can you also see outside (to avoid eye contact, pass the time and spot long-range threats)?

Corners mean you need monitor only 90 degrees for danger.

Walls, therefore, run a very poor second.

The centre, naturally, is right out.

But position isn’t everything.

Check the seating. Is it solo?

If it’s a two-seater couch, you may be able to thwart later arrivals with your bag and coat. (This also applies to pairs of chairs.)

If it’s a three-seater (or more) you may have unwelcome company.

What sort of couch is it?

If it’s too soft, slippery and/or deep, you may have trouble rising quickly to meet any threat.

Better a firm, high one with good back support.

But even the ideal chair in the perfect corner can come unstuck.

Is it near a radio speaker (perhaps blaring a chaotic commercial station)? The cacophony will erode your (frail) composure.

Is it next to a water cooler, rubbish bin, pamphlet stand, children’s play area or stack of filthy, outdated magazines?

If so, people (at worst, infants) may launch themselves at you from all quarters without warning.

Waiting rooms are so hideous, it’s best to be the first appointment of the day.

Though this carries its own peril if your appointment still contrives to be late.

The silver line to this stormy cloud concerns your partner.

If, after some time together, your covivant can scan a space with 80 chairs and point to the exact one you’d pick,

you’ll know it’s true love.

Marry them without delay.


Brought to you by The Feisty Empire.


November 7, 2012 at 9:11 am | Posted in Humour, People, Society, Threats, Touch, Work | 6 Comments
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Table for one?

Like many aspies, you may prefer to eat alone.

The mere presence of others may dilute (pollute?!) your pleasure in food.

And the onus of communication can turn a meal from treat to chore.

It’s fine to dine solo, but try not to overdo it.

If, for instance, you’re found lunching alone on the concrete fire escape stairs of a busy advertising agency, your reputation for socialising may suffer.

If you’re in business, try to avoid lunch meetings.

Chances are you’ll be so overwrought juggling conflicting tasks that your client or prospect may form a poor impression.

If they insist on meeting for lunch, avoid ‘difficult’ dishes.

Especially beef teriyaki don with long, crisp, slippery vegetables, sticky rice and loads of sauce.

The effort to control your chopsticks and sever mouthfuls while calculating optimal eye contact and tracking the conversation may well result in food on your hands, face, clothes, napkin and table section.

Not a good look.

Especially if you cut yourself shaving.

‘Finger’ foods (e.g. wraps, sandwiches and spring rolls [without sauce]) are a far safer bet.

You could even call these

a recipe for success.



November 1, 2012 at 10:43 am | Posted in Mind, People, Recreation, Society, Threats | 9 Comments
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Enter at own risk.

There’s a high chance you won’t like Bali.

The reasons are almost too numerous to describe, but here are a few.

When you land at the airport and stare bewildered at the queues, an airport official will spot your distress and approach.

But instead of helping you, he’ll extort money from you to ‘process’ your passport.

When he snatches your documents and vanishes through a door, leaving you to the hostile stares of a thousand angry, sweaty tourists, you’ll know the true meaning of fear.

If you get your passport back, another trial awaits.

When you see the luggage carousel with nothing on it, it’s not because your bag hasn’t been unloaded.

Rather, it has been taken hostage by a local ‘handler’ who also demands payment to give it back.

Then he’ll want to carry it for you. More exhortations for money.

Next, a deafening gauntlet of currency changers will harangue you for custom.

Next, the taxi driver who beats all the others to you will drive you through a sea of humanity moiling on packed, narrow streets with smashed, gaping footpaths.

On arrival, he won’t be able to change your smallest banknote, forcing you to give him a very large one.

When you finally gain the sanctuary of your villa, the close cries of rice farmers fending off birds will make you wonder what the hell you’re doing there.

Everyone told you Bali was wonderful, amazing.

But all you see is the chasm between rich and poor, and the endless devices of the latter to glean from the former.

You’d rather eat alone than have four staff fawn over your every mouthful.

You’d rather savour your accommodation in peace than traipse the steaming island to have temple monkeys claw out your eyes.

But if you stay put, the servile staff pile up at your door – desperate to please and stunned that you don’t enjoy lording it over them, like so many guests before.

They’ll get upset – though they hide it very well.

And the fact even you can detect their displeasure will make you realise how frighteningly deep it goes.

So you’ll get upset too, and feel trapped among foes.

And the positive feedback loop will continue.

Your sole, cold comfort (when the host, the receptionist, the gardener, the pool person, the path sweeper, the snake catcher, the house people, the deity offering preparer – and all their retainers – have finally left your compound) may be to transmute your pain and disappointment into searing, staccato verse:

I hate Bali

I hate Bali.

It is f*cked.

All the mopeds.

All the trucks.

All the bullsh*t.

All the scams.

Grin at me through

Praying hands.

Take my money.

Plus plus plus.

(Plus plus plus plus,

Plus plus plus.)

Yes I am a

First World prick.

I deserve your

Third Class shtick.

Bend me over.

Call me ‘Sir’.

Rough pineapple.

Now do her.

Charge us double.

Give us half.

Disrespect us.

Laugh and laugh.

Show us pictures

Of the sun.

Swipe our visas.

Wipe your bum.

All is fiction.

Nothing real.

Bait and switch and

Steal steal steal.

Send us packing.

With your curse.

Now we see there’s

So much worse.

Dress your gods, but

Strip us bare.

Wish that we were

Never there.

Despite your rage, you’ll know deep down that it’s not Bali’s fault.

This means the problem lies with you.

And the wait for your non-transferrable flight home will be very,




Further reading:



May 15, 2010 at 9:40 am | Posted in 1, Mind, People, Threats, Touch | 10 Comments
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Humiliation by technology.

Should you be press-ganged into babysitting a friend’s children, the results may be mixed.

On the plus side, you’ll thrill the kids with your highly original approach to games.

You’ll play their games their way.

Then you’ll play them in exciting new ways they never conceived.

Buoyed by their laughter, you’ll invent entirely new games, using straws, or string, or nothing but your combined imaginations.

Squeals of delight will fill the house.

Until they realise that your sole goal is their happiness, and that you’re not an authority figure.

Then they may start to manipulate you.

If you fail to respond, they may start to mock you.

If, due to your poor disciplining skills (due to no practice and fear of offending their parents) you fail to arrest this development, things may turn ugly.

If you’re very unlucky, a 12-year-old girl, done up like a Brats doll, will stand before you with a label maker.

She will turn the dial to ‘L’.

Click it.

Cut it.

Peel off the backing.

And press it onto your forehead with her right index finger.

When you ask what she has just done, she’ll say:

“That’s an ‘L’.

“For ‘Loser’.”

You’ll look at her.

And she at you.

And even though you’re 40, you’ll both know there’s not a damn thing you can or will do about it.

You will recall this humiliation for the rest of your life.


Brought to you by The Feisty Empire.


April 2, 2010 at 8:30 am | Posted in Family, Mind, People, Society, Threats, Treatment | 5 Comments
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Read my lips.

Conversation can be so very difficult.

It’s especially upsetting when you try to participate fully and in good faith, only to fail utterly and incur the wrath of the other party.

Let’s say your partner informs you that their sibling’s cat is missing.

You ask if the sibling is upset.

Your partner becomes annoyed. Of course the sibling is upset!

This perplexes you, because six months ago, you heard the sibling tied their pet dog to their toddler’s tricycle because they didn’t have time to exercise either.

From this, you deduced the sibling didn’t much care for the dog.

By extrapolation, you surmised they weren’t fond of the cat either.

Your question, therefore, is logical.

Logical, perhaps. But your error lies elsewhere.

You perceived your partner’s news as an invitation to dialogue.

To participate fully and in good faith in this dialogue, you asked a question.

In reality, however, your partner merely wanted you to make the noises appropriate to such news under normal circumstances.

This is akin to small talk.

The dog, toddler and tricycle, however pertinent to your situational view, were irrelevant to the discussion.

Thus your deeper interest, though it sprang from a genuine place, was neither necessary nor welcome.

Your partner’s rebuff stings twice, because you:

  1. Were trying hard to converse like a normal person.
  2. Felt you were doing pretty well to recall the discussion of six months ago.

Alas, no dice. It just isn’t that simple.

This is one of the downsides of aspergers.

Your counsellor may say casual conversation can be learned.

But it certainly seems small talk is a big ask.


Brought to you by The Feisty Empire.


December 9, 2009 at 6:23 am | Posted in Compulsions, Mind, People, Society, Threats, Treatment | Leave a comment
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Congratulate honestly, but not too highly.

As an ardent lover of Truth, you’ll be constantly dismayed by the variability, expediency and mendacity of politicians.

Soon you’ll be close to writing them all off as hopeless liars.

On very rare occasions, due to extreme circumstances even they may not understand, a politician may feel driven to tell the whole truth in a clear and emphatic way.

Like a beacon in the night sea, this will attract and impress you greatly.

So much that you may feel compelled to tell the politician how you feel. Even if their party’s views are diametrically opposed to yours.

Today’s technology makes this possible. It’s an easy matter to email the person or leave a comment on their blog (or the online article detailing their ‘lapse’).

It’s fine to show your support; just don’t overdo it.

What goes on the Web stays on the Web, and your thoughts (especially if expressed with your characteristic vehemence and candour) may haunt you in future years.

Further, most ‘normal’ people fear and suspect frank opinions, so you may actually damage your ‘brand’ by tabling yours.

Ironically, while it’s OK for politicians to take the odd trip down Honesty Lane with impunity, society is unlikely to afford you a similar luxury.

Therefore, either self-edit your comments, or pass them through the filter of a trusted friend.


Brought to you by The Feisty Empire.


December 7, 2009 at 1:59 pm | Posted in 1, Compulsions, Mind, Threats, Treatment | 16 Comments
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A good friend. Too good, unfortunately.

Like almost everything that feels good, Diazepam (marketed as Valium) is bad for you.

Bad in the sense that it’s very ‘grippy’ (i.e. you can very easily become dependent on it).

This danger is easy to appreciate, once you’ve tried Diazepam a few times.

If you’re freaking out, half a Serapax, Oxazepam (or equivalent) can calm you down within an hour. Less if you chew the tablet.

This is particularly beneficial if you need to ‘get it together’ for work.

From weeping and tearing your hair out to quietly doing your emails: the shift can be quite astounding.

Another effective use of Diazepam is as a preventative measure when you must perform difficult social interactions (e.g. go to dinner with friends).

Because it calms without disabling, it’s vastly superior to getting drunk before you walk out the door.

A third use of Diazepam is for sleep. As well as sending you to sleep, it keeps you there. Sometimes until dawn.

This makes it superior to many sleeping pills, which only work for a few hours and leave you feeling wrung out the next day.

Doctors will, quite rightly, make you jump through all manner of hoops before prescribing Diazepam.

When they do, however, the cheapness of the prescription (relative to the comfort it can bring) will amaze you.

Once the pills are gone, there’ll be moments you’d gladly pay twenty times the price to get relief.

Naturally, your thoughts may turn to abuse. Take two pills and whatever is bothering you will almost certainly go away (for a while).

Take two pills with alcohol and you’ll go out like a light. You may even slide over while watching television and wake up, cold and cramped, many hours later.

This sort of behaviour is very bad news. Add vehicles to the mix and you’re absolutely asking for it.

Unless you have a will of iron, therefore, you should try to steer clear of Diazepam.

At the very least, keep your doctor and psychologist fully informed of your usage.

Properly used, Diazepam can get you over humps and through tight spots.

Used any other way, it will become yet another source of problems and sorrow.

If you found this post interesting or useful, you may wish to:

Your smallest kindness will keep me going strong. 🙂


November 26, 2009 at 12:44 pm | Posted in Threats | 15 Comments
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Nobody can bring order to such chaos.

There is a circle of hell reserved for the most evil Asperger sufferers.

Those who rape nuns, abuse animals and devour human flesh.

It is called supermarket shopping.

Woebetide those who enter this arena.

Few make it out alive.


Brought to you by The Feisty Empire.


November 22, 2009 at 7:15 pm | Posted in Compulsions, Society, Threats | Leave a comment
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It’s nice when one machine does many things.

In choosing a car, you may find yourself drawn to three-door ‘hatches’ or ‘fastbacks’ for several reasons.

At a practical level, you can do a lot more with a hatch, e.g.:

  • Buy appliances.
  • Cart firewood.
  • Sleep.

Such multitasking of an expensive consumer durable good is attractive.

At a social level, you’re not likely to have hordes of friends or family members to cart around.

At an emotional level, you feel safer in a hatch, as there are no side doors behind you through which attackers may force their way.

Bullying and long-term alcohol use increase fear of attack.

Reduction of these deleterious elements earlier in life will broaden your motor vehicle choice down the road.


Brought to you by The Feisty Empire.


October 26, 2009 at 3:58 pm | Posted in Compulsions, Humour, Interests, People, Senses, Sight, Threats, Treatment | 2 Comments
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Strike One.

Strike One.

Given your first camera, you may prefer to capture scenes, rather than people.

Later in life, it may disturb you to learn that Adolf Hitler did the same thing in his paintings.

Strike Two.

Strike Two.

As these photographs attest, your intense concentration on the subject may occur at the expense of all other stimuli.

This is because you’re a one-thing-at-a-time person.

Strike Three.

Strike Three.

Fortunately, digital cameras have obviated the frustration and expense of getting back disappointing photos like this.


Brought to you by The Feisty Empire and Imagine Day.

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