I received this comment

Severe autism is NOT being discussed and it’s getting real old…this is such bs….everyones ignoring this side to the detriment of their own souls

If Temple Grandin was 2 trying to say ‘ball’ but only able to say ‘bah’ and couldn’t communicate until she was 3, is that ‘severe autism’?  If we add to that that she smeared feces at age 2 and 3 and hated scratchy petitcoats so much she tantrumed does that make her autism more ‘severe’?  An obsessive compulsive personality (see OCPD) geared for achievement and capable of high levels of fixation.  Does that make Temple more autistic than other personalities?   If we add that she was a highly intelligent with enough dyspraxia to have been unable to pronounce speech clearly without speech therapy, sensorily disorganised (commonly occurs in dyspraxia) and was unco-ordinated enough to be misjudged as ‘brain damaged’ how does that shape our view of her discussion of having been ‘severely autistic’?  Read the rest of this entry »

THE DANCE

Grizzle, grizzle, grizzle grump.
Sore throat you woke me like a broken record.
“But you sounded so good…”.
And I remember myself like a poster glossy and shiny
shredded overnight in my interrupted dreams.

We’ll fingers crossed, hey?
We’ll hope like hell.
‘Cause Jesus ain’t waiting in the sunlight with fairy dust.
and positive thinking won’t buy me a Mercedes
(or an immune system).

Click your heels Dorothy.
Hope ’til your nipples fall off. Read the rest of this entry »

Three years ago I began an interactive poetry challenge on my blog.   It involved the public sending me 1-2 word titles and I had to send back a poem to each title within 48 hours.

Ranging from surreal, to grungy, from romantic, to funny, from political to symbolic and everywhere in between, the poems were as diverse as the titles sent in.   I gathered them into a collection called Weirdos Like Me.  It’s a collection of poetry, art and surrealism.  Amidst the poetry are also song lyrics to songs by Donna And The Aspinauts with whom I am the lead singer and main singer-songwriter. Read the rest of this entry »

Oh Valentine, forgive me not.

Was it whilst I blinked, you stole my heart?

A potted plant, upon my porch.

It sits in bloom, for now. Read the rest of this entry »

This week, I released my new book, Weirdos Like Me. It’s a collection of art, poetry and surrealism.  And, so, dedicated to all of you living with snow up to your eyeballs, here’s one of the works from the book, entitled SNOW.

SNOW

Confetti soft, it fell, calling me, the girl from a land of sun.

From the window it took my heart.

My feet ran me down the stairs.

I turned, music box dancer in a world of falling sky

And I knew snow. Read the rest of this entry »

He came at me from nowhere, rushing toward me.  By instinct, I had grabbed my corn chips, Hole-Sum Originals, no less. No added anything.  Then, twack, I’d landed my first blow. Still he flailed, manicly.  Inside of me, my conscience screamed, “stop it, you murderer”.  But my bag of corn chips struck another heavy blow.  His legs detached and my guilt was merciless.  He’s broken now, you bitch, how could you, finish him off.  So I did, with full consciousness, trying to justify how this one inch creature had so threatened all five foot three of me.

I apologised to God, just in case there was one (I’m a spiritual Atheist) and cursed my arachnophobic instincts.  I’m sorry I murdered you in my kitchen, Mr Spider. I swear, in my warped instantaneous reality, I murdered you in self defence. Read the rest of this entry »

Some people can voluntarily open the Eustachian tubes in their ears.  This causes a clicking or popping sound.   Those who can’t do this suffer from ear pressure on aeroplanes but those who can do it may suffer from something else, especially if they also have OCD and perhaps even more so if they suffered from chronic ear infections throughout childhood.  Why?  Read the rest of this entry »

When my mother was pregnant she was reading the Spanish dictionary.  She was a ‘boy mother’, that kind that gets along with boys, can relate to them.  If I was a boy, I understand I’d have been named Stewart , meaning ‘steward’, someone who is the caretaker.  But I was a girl Read the rest of this entry »

In childhood I was called Dolly Burger by my mother’s side, Miss Polly by my father.  I’d rather have been Miss Polly even if I was sick, sick, sick too often than be anyone’s doll.  I didn’t like doll’s, those staring, plastic almost demonic representations of a one-size-fits all normality or perfection.  I never identified with being Doll-y or anyone’s doll.  When my mother told me I was hers, her doll, I felt the foundations of my feminist rejection of conformist expectations of ‘what a girl should be’.  I liked the ballet dress with its fluttering leafy skirt, its sheeny pink sating and mother of pearl beading catching rainbows in the lights.  But the doll thing… Read the rest of this entry »

We’ve always considered Donna and The Aspinauts to be diversity friendly but what does it mean to be a disability friendly band?  Is it about having people with disabilities in the band?  Is it about making it easy for those with disabilities to attend your gigs and shows?  Is it about having a natural sense of equality with and respect for those with disabilities?  Is it about having a strong presence in the wider disability community?  Read the rest of this entry »