“Maybe I’m a writer, not a talker” I say as I close the recording video from my webcam.
The fact is I’m not great at socialising in real-life situations: parties and such. A lot is lost on me. The quieter ones inspire me to have more of a “flow” or, make a better statement about being quiet, and have it merge into the other aspects of my personality, for the sake of consistency.
It’s not just the quieter ones alone, but the crowd on the autistic spectrum I gravitated most toward at school. I liked the interest they had with real-world things. Certain toys, games, books, comics, hobbies and crafts etc. I’ve said it a lot, to different people, over the years, but the autistic crowd, across the board, seem to have one major thing in common with each other: faith in things, rather than people.
Being, overall, a social drifter, outcast, and more recently, taking on the embodiment of a pariah of sorts, I am definitely most at ease when I am by myself, in solitude. When my early 20’s rolled round, and I got documented and branded with the term “schizophrenia”, I still don’t get it. I think, most honestly, the three main reasons were my strange beliefs (which paid off, oh Lord did they pay off), my strange behaviour, and all the strange things I was into, from music, to movies, to art and literature. I have also lightly taken an interest in the occult, as well, and that isn’t new. I got introduced to magick (with a K) at a young age, thanks to prominent industrial acts, namely Coil and Throbbing Gristle. What I found out was, it clearly works, and clearly comes at a price, often paid by fate or karma levels.
So MY thing over the ears was esoterica of all kinds: UFOs, time travel, Tesla, the Occult core of German National Socialism, including Miguel Serrano (of course) and the works of Carl Jung, James Joyce, Genesis P Orridge’s Psychick Bible, and several more obscure occult writers. This is a different type of inanimate objects to the rest of those on the spectrum, so of course I have a different “sort” of autism. How would I define it? After a quick confirmation from Google, I find the word “esoteric” covers the type of thing I was, and am still most attracted to. Its an uncomfortable and often unworkable kind of autism, My attraction to anything out of the ordinary, (and I really do mean “Out There”). The films I get to watch, too: that’s another, endless sermon I get addicted to, talking about. Trust me, I could talk weeks, months etc on all the little strange things I was into, before my initial, what they call, “psychotic break” in my early 20s, as I have alluded to.
So really, I find myself, still, as a loner-type who does a lot of social drifting, never quite settled to one group at any given time. As I am largely and widely seen as either strange, or not-of-this-world, in many ways. So then, it should only be seen as natural that I really do prefer my own company, which is a complicated enough relationship, when I make things such as poetry, certain paintings, and YouTube videos that I myself can’t bring myself to watch, sometimes.
I really do know myself best, and the more I reflect on this, with the ascent to civility and trials of patience and kindness, I hope to become a universally good influence to all that know me, by whatever means. Because I STILL cannot believe, totally, that I am all that different to everyone. But if I am, and most sentient presences in my life also support that description of being so singular, then let it be so. I shall wear and embody my uniqueness wherever I go. I really have no choice? Fine, give me my individuality and with it, freedom, and I’ll continue to hold on to it as long as I can. Remember: WW2 was fought against conformism, with strong ideals of individuality and independence! Where and when did the disposal of those happen, exactly. I would like to invite all who see this to spend their liberty more wisely, than on sheeplike conformism.
The Humble Rock Dove 