Wednesday, July 21, 2010

Asperger's out

To my personal playwright, of K. und K. fame:

Got a gifted undergraduate - mathematically inclined (ie, what they diagnose as autistic spectral disorder nowadays). We look at each other in silence, mostly. Man to man kinda thing, no wonder no woman wants to do theoretical physics.

Is the more fashionable label Asperger's Syndrome? I've heard it has a certain cache among autistics. I wish there were a way to tell if someone actually had autism or simply doesn't know how to talk to live people. Maybe he was raised on a lonely, isolated farm in Kansas with emotionally remote, deaf-mute parents, and the only one who truly loved him was a cow. Just a theory.
sorry K, Asperger's out - it had a cachet, and we were all trying to get it as a diagnosis, but the threshold is high - gotta be Dirac or Grothendick. Now it exists no more as a diagnosis, it's subsumed in the autistic spectrum. The magic is gone, bit like the magic is gone out of what used to be PanAm, but is now the Delta business class.

In March or so blah-blah K had an idea he was going to tell me about. I've taken a number in the queue with K so he can talk at me in a long uninterrupted stream. I'm married so I am trained, just gotta say yes o yes at regular intervals to indicate I'm still awake.

Jokes don't travel well on email (or Facebook, as I've learned to my chagrin more than once). Besides, you can never expect a man to joke about his cow.
all of the contents of all my blogs are strictly confidential, and can be only used as a fodder for scientist characters in plays, mercilessly dissected.

Anyway, report form the trenches: HE is just sitting there bent over His desk, not torturing any Japanese. Depressed? Hard to know, we men do not get into emotions.

But today is an exceptional day, as I have - for reasons that fill my chest with pride - 4-wheels unpacked and ready to roll. Do you want me to pick up some pizzas to feed the brood, or they all have prior violin / soccer/ kung-fu / German literature club / Eminem support group/ ... appointments tonight?

Doublet inspection day? Pizza would be a good thing, and well appreciated, especially by the Sophia doublet. This weekend?
Looking at my weekend schedule I only see vasty deep of existential angst - yet another weekend where instead of catching up I have sunk even deeper into impossibility of dealing with but an ever shrinking fraction of things that must be taken care off. Issue orders. Doublets have very firm opinions about such things, so to be specific:

You call the pizzeria of Ἁγία Σοφία's desire and order those and only ingredients that Doublet will consume, and I will unpack the four-wheeler (two wheels good, four wheels bad) and pick up the consumables on the way. The usual rules apply: adults converse about any fascinating thing in the universe, except for the small mammals at hand. They are hard not to notice even in the best of families. No dipping to 10 year olds IQs, OK?

I would love to increase eternal interaction with my mother. Unfortunately I don't know how to contact her. But, speaking of the living nonAsperger's folk, I'll order from Athens pizza, if you want, though we're closer to a Mellow Mushroom.

Hey, speaking of plays, I'm tentatively starting a play about a humanoid-appearing robot head. Yeah, I know, sounds like fun, but it will be I think a play about how we form attachments, how we anthropomorphize, and how we grieve. And a comedy, of course.
Isn't this what we mean by "Talking Head?" Whatever. I'll drive from Virginia Highlands and pick up the pizza, say when and where. Should we take the Doublets to National Coming Out Day on Saturday October 10?