Field of Broken Skulls
Content warning: negativity, hatred, being wrong.
I had this idea about what I wanted to write today, but when I started to do it I felt like I was trying, so I stopped. Trying, effort, pushing yourself and persistence are all the enemies of creativity. If I have to sweat and strain to put into words what I think I’m thinking, then I probably don’t care about it enough.
I’ve done a lot of try-hard shit in my life. I worked too hard. So I cannot tell you what a relief it was to learn I was autistic. Now I could let go of all that shame, the shame of being a loser. It’s been brutal to want to do things with people while finding them extremely annoying, for instance. It’s been brutal to have a bone deep need to go my way that means every boss, anyone in charge, anyone who even remotely tries to tell me what to do, can fuck right off.
It’s almost impossible to explain to normal people what it’s like, so I’m not going to anymore. Normal people are the landlords and the real estate agents. I will fill out their paperwork and I will be nice, but they’re not invited into my world.
Case in point, the sculpture I’m working on now. I’m seeing it as an expression of autism or a statement of neurodiversity and I will say that it’s a 3d picture of my different brain, but I’m not going to stand around in a gallery talking with normal people about what that means. I can’t imagine anything more draining than trying to explain things to people, especially when the chances of their curiosity being genuine will probably be around zero.
Normal people want what they want from you, because they are trying to keep their normal world going. They believe in the value of hard work because they are rewarded for their hard work. I’m not, I never have been and it’s unlikely I ever will be.
Normal people can be deeply psychotic and in total denial and delusion about their own awfulness while they also have very well paid careers. It’s amazing to watch them hustle and grind and put in the hard yards and go the extra mile. They might not know anything about themselves, but they know marching in jackboots across a field of broken skulls will always pay off.
My bluetooth keyboard is resting on a bench top made of the artificial stone that kills the workers who cut and shape it. Today the government said they need a year to work out what banning it would look like. It would like workers not being murdered by a man-made substance you normal cunts.
Rupert Murdoch has just admitted his mouthpieces tells lies that undermine democracy. Normal people will find a way to make that seem normal.
The investigation into Robodebt has shown that normals at every level knew it was evil and thought that was just part of what made it awesome.
And of course as a renter I'm a second class citizen.
Anyway, forget I said anything, I’m mad about everything.
Try to have a nice day. xx
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