I’m still posting photos and the spare autism blog; you also can follow my reading, watching, or listening.
A little bit about what I’m currently up to or doing with my time.
I am off social media but posting the rare autism blog; am trying to get through my large catalogue of autism research papers; am faltering on the almost-daily walking sessions; am watching Avatar: The Last Airbender on weekend mornings, Secrets of the Zoo on weekday mornings, and slowly continuing my first-ever full Supernatural watch, in addition to this week’s lineup of DC’s Legends of Tomorrow, Zoey’s Extraordinary Playlist, Good Girls, 9-1-1, Black Lightning, Debris, The Masked Singer, Nancy Drew, and The Blacklist; am bracing for fatigue after my second COVID vaccine dose; and am reading White Negroes by Lauren Michele Jackson, and Sorrowland by Rivers Solomon.
My long-winded biography about where I’ve come from and who I’ve been before.
Bix combines autism, comorbid anxiety and obsessive-compulsive features, and adjustment disorder, comorbid mixed anxiety and depressed mood, with introversion, a fairly devout agnosticism, and, potentially, undiagnosed depression. Believing people are capable of better and too often being proved wrong, he views cynicism merely as frustrated optimism and believes this is why the small, every day courtesies matter.
Once, many years ago, he was a slow dog, with his see-through skin. The kind of skin you can see through.
He neither bikes nor dances nor dates nor drinks nor drives nor drugs nor sexes nor swims. Since the death of his father a decade ago, he no longer smokes. He still has most, but most assuredly not all, of his teeth; he has a fetching dental appliance, although he doesn’t bother anymore.
If the events of one’s life were pictures and the emotions sounds, his memories would play as silent movies—but aphantasia precludes any pictures.
Rolling Stone emphasized his “long black eyelashes” and “face that sees very little sun” while deeming him “a kid from upstate New York with a quick wit”. A public relations professional said he was a “sissy”. Bruce Sterling referred to him as a “punk”.
As a child, he drew pictures of wanting to be an outer space moving van driver. As a middle-aged adult, he is not one.
By the Oxford English Dictionary definition of “slack” as the length of time in critical path analysis by which a particular event can be delayed without delaying the completion of the overall objective, he considers himself a slacker. He has yet to determine the overall objective.
For seventeen years he had a second-hand cat named Scully; he now has two shelter cats, Meru and Willow.
His decades of passing accomplishments (and, retrospectively, serial autistic “special interests”) include an infamous controversy over the uses of public art, a pioneering internet petition against government censorship; a worthwhile cybercafe failure; an active presence in the early blogosphere; several years of celebrated stand-alone journalism; the founding of a successful annual fan-based fundraising campaign; the moderate creative success of a three-year photography hobby; management of video contest submissions for the home video release of a trailblazing web series; the transient publishing of his late father’s novels; and surviving many years in the wilds of various movie and television fandoms.
His adult lifetime of unsuccessful work attempts retroactively found explanation in his midlife autism diagnosis, if not recognition by disability services.
For years, he was project manager for The Belmont Goats, Portland’s nonprofit resident herd, offering an oasis of rural community amidst the built, urban environment; until even this thing that mattered to him proved no match for autistic burnout.
He strongly suggests helping to bring both equality and mercy to a world forever in too much need of them.
Sites and things I might or might not actively be working on at the moment.
Through these links you can learn about what I want out of social networking, buy a photo print of a lemur, buy some t-shirts to express your quiet disgruntlement,
follow my epic Kurt Vonnegut (re)read, or read a Mark Twain story that I’ve hosted cruft-free for twenty years.
A brief word about contacting me.
I’ve deleted my social media accounts but if I know you it’s a (mostly) safe bet that I’d welcome and respond to direct contact.