10/25/2016

 The mood is level.

 Maybe a little somber. I ran into a couple of old friends on Facebook. It's one of those things where you're asking yourself why you didn't try to connect with them years ago.

 I've been pondering that question and I'm drawing a blank. It just never occurred to me.

 But, in reflection, I'm looking at memories of my best friend. His name was William Arthur McAdams Jr. but he went by Bill or Billy.

 Billy was an artist. A true artist. Painting and sculpture and photographs. He did it all and, like most artists, he was driven by his madness. The urge to create and shape and define the world on canvas or film or with living things themselves. All arranged to a plan only he could see.

 Billy created my parent's back yard when they moved into the city. He laid a sidewalk with thick blocks of concrete with things that he found when he was digging out there. There were bits of glass and metal gears, and bones of creatures that had crawled into the wild growth to die, and leafs.

 He created raised beds for flowers and planted trees. The very first spring after he'd done his work was a profusion of color and scents as everything he planted came to life. There were rows of sunflowers and from my apartment I could see the heads turning throughout the day tracking the sunlight.

 In my opinion it was his greatest work. Something that would endure for decades. Growing and changing. Life made art.

 And he never saw it.

 He moved to San Francisco in the early part of the year following the fall when he planted everything. It was nothing but a sidewalk snaking through turned earth and humps of flowerbeds, all bare dirt. I lived in an apartment next to my parent's house and I got to see his work come to life.

 It was one of those once in a lifetime things. Something you experience that you know you'll never experience again, ever.

 He didn't plant that yard for me. I'm not entirely certain he created it for my parents. He was just driven by the vision. Something that existed only in the abstract. Something only he could see. I truly can't imagine what that's like. Being able to see something then make it real.

 The vision and the will to make that vision real. He was an artist. He was driven by his madness. And he lived with it until the madness consumed him.

 So, running into old friends brought these memories up. Moved them into the prominent position. Distracting, but welcome. As clear as they day they were formed.

 Anyway, Billy was my best friend. Always had been. Like all artists, he didn't quite fit into the world. He was always on the outside of everything looking in. But he saw the world differently and that sight gave him the power to create. To change the world, just a little bit. Growing a garden, or painting a canvas.

 It was all life to him.

 A world only he could see.

 One that he did his best to share.

 Thanks for listening.

10/26/2016

 The mood is distressed.

 I'm in the middle of what I refer to as an “Episode”.

 It's sort of like a sugar crash but no amount of chocolate will cure it. It's one of the more debilitating aspects of autism. Thing take on a flat aspect. That's the best way I can describe it. It feels like I could just reach out and peel everything around me away I would see what's behind it all.

 The secret of reality.

 This is, of course preposterous. Nothing like that can happen. I just have to deal with it until it stops. I'm having some difficulty with fine motor control. It's hard to type when I'm vibrating like a tuning fork.

 A new plague has popped up at the office. Mostly it's people coughing but there was sneezing involved. My pod-spouse Deb would get these attacks where she'd sneeze five or six times in a row. It was making her crazy(er). She finally gave up and went home at lunchtime. I've got that tickle way down in my throat again. I'm hoping it doesn't get any worse that that but I'm packing store-brand Halls just in case.

 Oh, and the french vanilla ice cream too.

 Today is older brother's birthday.

 I did not send a gift. I don't know him well enough to select something just for him. Which is kind of sad when I think about it. He lives two miles away. I can drive there in less than five minutes. And I know little about him.

 I didn't decide to skip the gift because I'm angry at him or anything like that. I just know he'll feel obligated to send a gift on my birthday. I wouldn't mind him doing that but he wouldn't be doing it because we're family. He'd be doing it because I'd sent a gift to him.

 As far as I'm concerned that is the worst reason to send a gift ever.

 Okay, so we get to wear costumes to work on Friday. I'm going with the wizard costume. I always use that costume because I can incorporate either the cane or a staff. I've got a hiking stick I picked up when I went to visit my brother in Texas. I'm going to try doing some crafty sort of stuff. Wrapping it with twine, adding feathers and strings, that sort of stuff.

 It's kinda difficult with the fine motor issue but I'm chugging on anyway.

 I like Halloween because it's the one time of the year where I can wear the wizard outfit without people looking at me like I'm insane.

 That's a joke. Okay?

 I'm still shuffling through my memories of Billy. So much good stuff stored in my head. We did everything together and we mostly did it stoned. We were in the stoner/geek classification through high school.

 Those memories are fuzzy but in a warm kinda way so I'm good with it.

 I remember hanging out with him when I was home on leave; usually on my way overseas or on my way back. Billy was usually with the punk-esque crowd. Still an outsider but in the company of a lot of other outsiders.

 He told me about an acid trip he had when he went to a concert at City Island. The person who was handing out the LSD had run out by the time Billy's turn came up. What he was handing out was in liquid form, it was not on a blotter like it usually was.

 The guy told Billy he could lick the threads on the cap...that's the part that screws on to the bottle. Apparently that bottle had been shaken well because Billy ended up taking seven or eight hits of what was called Windowpane.

 He described how he lost his hold on reality and was wandering around the streets of Harrisburg trying to remember where he was supposed to go and how he was supposed to get there. Lots of bizarre things happened while he was on the walkabout.

 Anyway, I wrote a poem about it. I'm trying to find it so I can post it again

 Another memorial for a friend lost.

 But still living on in my head.

 Thanks for listening

My dad's favorite move was "How Green Was My Valley".

When I bought them their first DVD player I gave him a copy of that move along with it.

Everything was so clear and so sharp that it was painfully obvious the backgrounds were sets.  False.  It kinda ruined it for him.  It was a perspective I hadn't considered when I got it for him.

It's like that.  Like everything I'm seeing is lacking that indefinable dimension that makes it 'real'.

Everything seems strange.  Unfamiliar.

That's the best way I know how to describe it.  It's like trying to describe "blue" without saying "blue".

 

Enjoy your reminiscing.  It's always great to meet up with old buds.

11/01/2016

 The mood is up.

 The reason for this is a little farther down.

 The LIHEAP season opened today. LIHEAP is the acronym for Low Income Home Energy Assistance Program. Basically it's help with heating for people who don't have sufficient income to pay for winter heating costs.

 It's quite common for temperatures to drop into the single digits during the winter. Trying to keep from freezing to death can get quite expensive. The state actually has a moratorium period in which it's illegal to turn off electric or gas regardless of how much someone owes.

 That law was passed after an elderly woman froze to death in her home. I don't know if anyone in Harrisburg really would have cared but the story made front-page news so the pressure to do something about it was intense.

 LIHEAP is a good program for those who truly need it but, like all public assistance programs, there are those who abuse it. It's unfortunate that that ends up becoming the face presented to the public. The people who really need the help end up being lumped in with people who are just gaming the system.

 We, as caseworkers, do not have the option of picking and choosing who we believe really needs the help and who just doesn't pay their bills. The laws apply to everyone. Are there ways to reduce fraud in welfare programs? Yes, there are. But, strangely enough, when laws are being made, our representatives never consult with us.

 Hard to believe, isn't it?

 One of my favorite subjects in college was sociology. I found the subject fascinating because it was an in-depth study of something I'm completely clueless about. That is to say, the study of how people interact. For the first time in my life, I found a resource that explains everything I never understood.

 It's a logical study of something lacking logic.

 When it comes to interacting with people I'm completely lost and always will be. Autism isn't something education can cure. There is a somewhat strange side effect. Apparently I give great advice when it comes to social and familial interaction. I found it rather strange that I could so thoroughly understand someone else's relationships but I couldn't seem to manage my own.

 It's very difficult for me to make friends. Or at least make friends and keep them. I've always found it easier to make friends with women than with men. I have a tendency to simply state what I'm thinking or feeling and emotional overloads are common. Women listen and respond, men become extremely uncomfortable.

 This is understandable in that most boys are raised to believe that showing emotion is a weakness. Or rather, showing less aggressive emotions are a weakness. This defies logic. I mean, it's what's in your head, or your heart. Why would suffering through it on your own be considered manly?

 Foolishness.

 So, the reason the mood it elevated. I made a new friend! He's actually an old friend but he's a new friend because the last time we saw each other was when we were in our 20's.

 He was in the group we were all in between ninth grade and when I left for basic training. It was one of those things where you trip over someone on Facebook then end up asking yourself why you didn't try to connect years ago.

 We met face to face on Saturday and talked about all sorts of stuff. Like any new social situation, I was very withdrawn at first but it ended up that we really had a great deal in common. The conversation flowed easily and things were comfortable.

 I not only got through it without having to have a Wendy along I'm actually looking forward to meeting again.

 An old friend who is a new friend.

 Someone I can relate to.

 It's been a good day.

 Thanks for listening.