too late for tears

In the early 90s (in my mid 20s), I was studying guitar at Musicians Institute in L.A. Our improvisation class was taught by a fusion guy with the obligatory curly mullet—nice enough, but also kind of a doofus. Our assignment was to bring in a recording of a guitar improvisation to listen to and analyze.

I was trying to understand free improvisation at the time, and I brought in this track by eastbay stalwarts (this was before I moved to the eastbay) Henry Kaiser, Hilary & John Hanes, with John Abercrombie. I thought it was ‘fusiony’ enough that the instructor would find some way to talk about the logic of the thing.

He cued up the CD and the sound came over the speakers. I could see his face trying to figure out what to make of it.

About halfway through, he turned the volume down, gave kind of a dopey smile to let us know he was kind of kidding, but mostly not, and said,

“You call that music?”

My (unknown to me at the time) autistic brain went into analysis-and-resolution mode, which can chew through a moment like this in milliseconds. Without missing a beat, my unconsidered response was,

“You call that a haircut?”

By which I meant no ill will whatsoever. I was just pointing out that one’s musical choices are not unlike one’s tonsorial decisions. But, of course, there wasn’t time to give the backstory of the decision-making process that caused my response.

There was a long pause. Then suddenly, the tension was broken as everyone in the room, besides the instructor and myself, erupted into laughter. The instructor and I just looked at one another with curiosity, awe, and a sense that we would be laughing as well if we were just witnesses, and not protagonists.

After that, thankfully, there were no hard feelings, at least that I was aware of. There was a quiet peace between us, even when I would ask overly complex (unknown to me at the time) autistic questions.

Actually, now that I’m remembering, he told me once after that that he had a dream where I was reaching my arms out to him, and pleading, “Daddy! Daddy!” I remember masking heavily (before I knew that was a thing), and trying to hear his dream in a neutral way, and not hear it as creepy, but to respect his experience, and not react.

Thankfully, that was pretty much the end of that episode of that story.

Branes.🧠

my birthday wish

Some of you have made music with me over the years. You know what being in the room with me is like. Since my birthday is coming up, I’m hoping you’ll take a moment to hear what I’m asking for.

This past year, I decided to start something new. I wanted to nurture spaces that are explicitly neurodiversity-affirming. I wanted to make music that reflects the histories and cultures of the communities I’m in—not a fixed repertoire, but a living one. I wanted more instruments, wider age ranges, and a room that doesn’t sort people by developmental milestone or tax bracket. I wanted people to be able to attend as often as they like without paying more.

And I wanted to charge less than it costs to run the program, on purpose, knowing I’d be fundraising constantly to fill the gap. For years I taught in programs I couldn’t have afforded myself. That felt like a problem worth solving.

Enter imeetswe. We’re in our first year, and this is our Spring fundraising appeal. It would be a bait-and-switch to offer sliding scale classes and then only appeal at fundraising time to folks that are enrolled, so I’m reaching out to you. If any of this resonates—as a donor, a sharer, or just someone who wants to know more—I’d love for you to take a look, and share widely. Thank you!

what’s the deal with literacy these days?

Let’s take a moment to say something out loud:
there’s a lot of terrible writing in the world;
and a lot of terrible writing is one of the reasons
many of our kids are not excited

to sit and squint and parse, under fluorescent
lighting, at desks that wreck their bodies, in rows
of kids, not allowed to wiggle or whisper
or pat a beat to read along to. Somewhere,

someone decided that rhythm and rhyme were not
important enough to take the time to craft.
Here’s what that someone wasn’t paying attention to:
Rhythm and rhyme unlock the neurotransmitters;

Dyspraxics, aphants, dysgrahics, and dyslexics
are often able to entrain to a rhythm, or find
a rhyme, if they know that one is coming:
(you’ve hopefully had that experience, haven’t you?, when

the person reading leaves out the last
word of the poem, and the word pops in your mind?)
(If you haven’t, you should try it with a friend).
When you recognize that the Odyssey and the Iliad

were part of an oral tradition, encoded in rhythms
and rhymes, and familiar phrases, that invited
memory to do the work of storytelling,
passed from tongue to tongue for about as long

as Europeans have occupied the Americas–
you might start to wonder which skills we should be
focusing on, when passing information
along to our kids, that we hope will be memorable.

You can do the human math–(I’ve done it,
and with confidence can say what I’m going
to say)–I guarantee you: many, if not most
of the poets and writers of ages past were people

who would have, today, been branded as neurodivergent;
for whom encoding a human event in a rhythm
was just the way they knew their brain would remember it;
and in doing so, made the event accessible

to shared, collective memory. ’cause if you listen,
you’ll hear the way these bite-sized pieces flow;
the calming force of human expectation,
and satisfaction of expectation, over,

and over, and over, and over, and over again,
like a crocheted blanket, wrapped around your shoulders,
that your grandmother made in a ridiculously short amount
of time. (who has time for that, these days?)

neurodiverse community

Affirming neurodiversity is recognizing that, in a musical space, one person is tuned into the soprano register, even though their voice presents in the bass register; another person hears long melodic phrases when everyone else is creating short rhythmic phrases; and someone else’s brain is turning the patterns of sound into physical shapes, and they are internally designing a building. Guess what: there’s space for all of us in the room, and we’re better together when we recognize and support one another’s differences.

Wow

I was in Taqueria La Familia today,
having an excellent pescado burrito,
and listening to the cumbia that was
coming over the radio, when…

Kristi Noem’s DHS spot totally killed the vibe.

I can’t believe they are selling ads like that in California,
but I guess these big media companies don’t care.

She literally says
“YOU ARE NEXT” and
“YOU SHOULD LEAVE THE COUNTRY NOW.”

I have left the country,
(in my heart)
I’m not at home in any place where
words like that
come across the radio.

Radio has been a kind of church to me.

It’s hitting me hard, what’s happening.
I’m here,
and I’m crying a lot,
and you’ll mostly find me
in person.

#nolongeramerican #myheartismyonlycountry

Portrait of a Scientist (early 20th century)

He was probably a university student, or a post-doc, or maybe already a professor.

He was probably married and probably had a new child at home,

(and might have even had an idea of what university he hoped his child would attend).

He was probably an only child, or if he had siblings, was probably somehow isolated from his siblings–

(maybe because of the way he thought, or acted, or experienced the world)–

(he was just a child in his environment)–

they might have called him awkward, or deviant, or different, and maybe even criticized him harshly, and might have neglected to look at certain parts of him with loving eyes.

He was probably criticized harshly by a well-intentioned but misguided teacher or parent,

(whom he probably loved),

for tap-tap-tapping his pen when he was deep in thought during exams.

He was probably criticized harshly for daydreaming by another teacher or parent,

(whom he probably loved).

He was probably feeling the anxiety of his wife–

(as the wife of a university student, or post-doc, or professor, with a new child at home, is probably going to feel a lot of anxiety, truth be told),

(which he probably hated, knowing his role in that anxiety)

–anxiety about the ways her husband’s schedule isolated him from the family, and anxiety about the ways his eyes didn’t meet her eyes lovingly, and seemed so unemotional,

(and about the ways she didn’t understand how she could be a loving mother and still lack so much understanding of her child, and feel so much anxiety),

(which, as we know, is just the nature of motherhood)–

and she probably felt bad about it–

(and the child was just a child in their environment).

His wife might have been very religious, or at least she might have felt a lot of conviction,

(there’s often a conflict between conviction, religious or otherwise, and scientific inquiry),

which added to her anxiety, and his,

(and added anxiety to their child’s environment).

In feeling this anxiety deeply, she might have criticized her husband harshly,

(as she probably felt criticized by his very existence, though she probably wanted to express herself lovingly in the spiritual language she was given, if he would only meet her eyes lovingly, and make the space for the spiritual language of love she was given),

and in receiving this anxiety deeply, he probably defended science,

(not knowing how to hold both sides),

and criticized her harshly.

He probably wanted to say something to soothe his wife, but the words would never come at the right time,

(or awkward words might have come out, that seemed to make things worse, despite intentions),

and he felt bad about it.

Enthusiastic about the new language of science, he was probably mistrustful of religious language,

(and not trusting strong emotions, due to being harshly criticized for having strong emotions as a child, mistrustful of emotional language as well),

further divorcing him from the world of his wife, and his ability to meet her eyes,

(lovingly, with his eyes, and come up with satisfying language to express his love),

and all of the wise language of the past, in every language,

(divorcing him from the past).

The language of science, he probably believed, was the wisdom language of the future, and this belief probably caused a certain dynamic to happen:

Being divorced from his connection to the wisdom languages of the past, he probably felt compelled to create the wisdom language of the future.

So, in the course of his study,

(which was probably the study of sensory, cognitive, and behavioral differences in children),

when viewing a child brought in for viewing by a concerned parent,

(who was just a child being a child, in a clinical environment, at a moment in time),

with all the traits that in himself had been criticized harshly, or that he had anxiety about, or simply didn’t understand the nature of, relative to time and relationship–

delayed speech, social awkwardness, heightened sensory response or sensory processing difference, gender- or sexual-nonconformity, extreme behaviors, repetitive motor expression, deep knowledge of a special interest, tendency toward routine, differences in eye-expression or affect, cognitive disengagement, hyperfocus, slow emotional processing, nonsensical or novel language processing, cognitive dissonance

–and blind to himself,

(because objectivity, by nature, is blindness to the self),

and isolated from the ways that the wisdom of the ages might have made sense of a person with these traits, he created new language to represent the combination of traits he was viewing, as expressed through this particular child, at a certain moment in time,

(being that his thesis was due, and he had to come up with something novel):

Autism, possibly with attentional disengagement, with comorbidities of gender dysphoria and possible homosexuality. Investigate possible narcissism, or emotional immaturity, and possibly unbalanced sensory processing. Probably undeveloped moral sensibility, possibly brought on by the parents’ insecurity.

Let’s stop, and reflect,

(and in reflecting, possibly reframe):

In looking only forward, with hyperfocused eyes, and in trying to be objective, he missed the part about himself.

He was nothing, if not a well-intentioned parent,

(and the child was still just a child).

And, like all well-intentioned parents, sometimes we get things so backwards.

But in recognizing the point of view of the scientist,

in context, we can

(hopefully)

forgive all of his projections, and his well-intentioned but misguided ideas about children, and childhood, healthy and unhealthy traits and what it means to be a healthy child in a loving environment,

(and all of his anxiety about relationships, and reliance on routine, and emotional stuckness, and failures to articulate, and failures of eyes to meet the world lovingly, in trying trying trying to understand); and

(certainly)

it’s easy to forgive the scientist’s wife, with all she was dealing with, in relative isolation; and

(hopefully)

we might even forgive the scientist’s parents and teachers, whose harsh, well-intentioned criticisms so affected the scientist and his point of view; and

(hopefully)

we might even forgive the harsh, well-intentioned convictions of his wife’s religious parents and teachers,

(which resulted in so much anxiety and conflict and cognitive dissonance).

And in recognizing ourselves in our own mistakes, we always have the opportunity

(hopefully)

to forgive ourselves:

to pause, to reflect, to reassess, to connect with all of the wisdom that the ages have to offer,

(including the language of science),

and to step backwards, with loving eyes,

(even when it’s awkward),

into a new understanding.

How could the scientist’s diagnosis

(based on what we now know to be a moment in time within a historical and emotional context in a clinical environment)

be reframed, in light of this new understanding, that includes forgiveness, and time to develop, and an environment to move around in freely?

Child shows emerging language with delayed but steady progress. Social style is unique, with moments of awkwardness typical of age. Strong sensory awareness observed, with vivid responses to environment. Repetitive motor play and preference for routines indicate self-soothing and learning strategies. Shifts between disengagement and deep hyperfocus reflect flexible attention patterns. Emotional processing is ongoing, with gradual maturation expected.

Is this reframing any less accurate or concise? Does it come with less anxiety? Are we noticing something intimate? Something that moves toward ease?

Are we noticing a possibility

(or even a probability)

of how the future might actually work, for all of us?

We’re all right here, in this very environment,

(and still, all children are just our children)

and opportunity is all around us,

(and within us).

tldr; never summarize the plot of a story into a moral–that’s the work of life: in resolving life’s complexity, within ourselves, we find our unique way of being in the world around us,

(and within us).

❣️

all the little things you do are done for love.

don’t doubt it. shout about it.

shout about the things you do for love.

(it’s about the little things)

little things are moved toward love.

(If you are moved, move the little things toward love)

love this, sweetie

lovethislovethislovethislovethislove

💙

i don’t know
if it’s funny
or sad

that people can read
a poem from a hundred
years ago

and laugh
but when their friend
writes a poem

they worry about
their mental health

(whose mental health
are they worried about?)

even people who
love the blues,
which is often

funny and sad:
that’s the blues
in a nutshell.

who doesn’t feel
funny and sad?
and who doesn’t love

the blues?
that’s what love is

all about. (maybe they
don’t know what love is)

i, advocate

If you’ve been following my neurodiversity journey–as I articulate the experience of a person with autism, ADHD, aphantasia, and proprioception hyposensitivity from the inside, along with the other ways i share myself–and you’ve found that the insights I’ve shared connect with your experience, or contextualize something you suspected, realize that sharing these insights is one of the ways I care for my community.

And realize that, as a person with no degrees or qualifications as an advocate other than my lived experience and my inborn gifts, what I share makes no sense in the context of capitalism.

If you find that a person like me is a valuable part of the community, and worthy of support, realize that, within the context of 21st century American capitalism, there’s not much support for people like me, or for the people I advocate for, who often don’t have the gift for articulation that I share with my community.

I could institutionalize myself: pursue an advanced degree that legitimizes my advocacy in the context of capitalism, and in doing so, would need to unplug myself from the community that I move through, and in doing so, become another victim of capitalism – saddled with huge debt, and most likely unable to find an official advocacy position that would pay off that debt in my lifetime.

I choose, instead, to move through my community in the ways I’ve been moving, because my community moves me to do so, and that’s how I show up. That’s how I care.

If you find this valuable, I’m asking to be allowed to continue advocating for your sensory and cognitive gifts, to continue recontextualizing valuable predispositions that have been pathologized. I’m asking to be adopted. I’m asking for your care. I’m asking for your support.

In asking for your support, I’m not asking to be the CEO of Spotify, or Starbucks, or Paramount+, or Ridwell, or any of the other services that folks find valuable and subscribe to. I’m asking for just enough care to be allowed to live and continue to do the work that I do. If you subscribe to even a little bit of the philosophy I share, consider subscribing to me, so I can continue caring for my community in the ways that I do.

Thanks for all you do, and thank you for being you.