New posts?

I haven't posted in over a year?! Wow. Noticed that when I updated my Recent Reads section. I knew it'd been a long time,but wouldn't have bet on it being over a year. The excerpt posts aren't something I'm keen to do, but I have a bunch of books to wild release so here's hoping for some catches - if I get any then you'll see the posts!

a speck that is melting

Q47 Would you give us an example of something people with autism really enjoy?

We do take pleasure in one thing that you probably won't be able to guess. Namely, making friends with nature. The reason we aren't much good at people skills is that we think too much about what sort of impression we're making on the other person, or how we should be responding to this or that. But nature is always there at hand to wrap us up, gently: glowing, swaying, bubbling, rustling.

Just by looking at nature, I feel as if I'm being swallowed up into it, and in that moment I get the sensation that my body's now a speck from long before I was born, a speck that is melting into nature herself. This sensation is so amazing that I forget that I'm a human being, and one with special needs to boot.

Nature calms me down when I'm furious, and laughs with me when I'm happy. You might think that it's not possible that nature could be a friend, not really. But human beings are part of the animal kingdom too, and perhaps us people with autism still have some leftover awareness of this, buried somewhere deep down. I'll always cherish the part of me that thinks of nature as a friend.

-- The Reason I Jump by Naoki Higashida, translated by KA Yoshida & David Mitchell

nature is as important as our own lives

Q45 Why do you enjoy going out for walks so much?

My guess is that lots of people with autism like walking, and I wonder if you can work out why. "Because walking makes you feel good?" "Because it's great being out in the open air?" Both these replies are true, of course, but for me the number one reason is that us people with autism love the greenness of nature. Now you might be thinking, "Oh, is that all?" However, our fondness for nature is, I think, a little bit different from everyone else's. I'm guessing that what touches you in nature is the beauty of the trees and the flowers and things. But to us people with special needs, nature is as important as our own lives. The reason is that when we look at nature, we receive a sort of permission to be alive in this world, and our entire bodies get recharged. However often we're ignored and pushed away by other people, nature will always give us a good big hug, here inside our hearts.

The greenness of nature is the lives of plants and trees. Green is life. And that's the reason we love to go out for walks.

-- The Reason I Jump by Naoki Higashida, translated by KA Yoshida & David Mitchell

lives ruled by time

Q39 Why do you like being in the water?

We just want to go back. To the distant, distant past. To a primeval era, in fact, before human beings even existed. All people with autism feel the same about this one, I reckon. Aquatic life-forms came into being and evolved, but why did they then have to emerge onto dry land, and turn into human beings who chose to lead lives ruled by time? These are real mysteries to me.

In the water it's so quiet and I'm so free and happy there. Nobody hassles us in the water, and it's as if we've got all the time in the world. Whether we stay in one place or whether we're swimming about, when we're in the water we can really be at one with the pulse of time. Outside of the water there's always too much stimulation for our eyes and our ears, and it's impossible for us to guess how long one second is or how long an hour takes.

People with autism have no freedom. The reason is that we are a different kind of human, born with primeval sense. We are outside the normal flow of time, we can't express ourselves, and our bodies are hurtling us through life. If only we could go back to that distant, distant, watery past—then we'd all be able to live as contentedly and as freely as you lot!

-- The Reason I Jump by Naoki Higashida, translated by KA Yoshida & David Mitchell

BookCrossing: Brat Farrar

My wife and I took our kids to Seattle for a couple of nights—"three glorious days and two wonderful nights in the Emerald City!"—and while the main purpose was to see the Blue Jays vs the Mariners, we also did quite a bit of walking around. One visit, of course, was to the Space Needle. Or the Space Noodle, as the kids renamed it. At the base of the Noodle I wild released two books and one of them, Brat Farrar, received a journal entry catch before I could even make release notes. Admittedly the release notes weren't going to be made until 31 hours after the release time, but hey, a quick catch should be celebrated regardless, and a same-day catch is a quick catch in my books, and should be in your books too.

Speaking of books, here's the same-day catch of the aforementioned wild released book:

haven't read it yet but it looks interesting

a just barely overheard remark

These one-sided conversations had begun, naturally enough, during the first few days when he had tried watching television (Denton brought a little portable, thinking the diversion might help).

"Oh, let's the fuck not!" he had cried to the silver-haired uncle type who had implored: "Let's talk for just a moment about constipation." And when the prim and proper lard ass Aunt Nell walked into the young bride's new house, turned up her little snout, and made a just barely overheard remark about "house-i-tosis," Cassidy got up from his chair, muttering softly: that, really, will not do. He unplugged the set, wrapped the cord around the handle, and placed it in the oven (which he used only for heating the kitchen).

"You're going to stay in there until you goddamn well learn some manners," he informed Aunt Nell, and then promptly forgot about her. And not just her. He also forgot about the legions of thrombosed bridge partners, impotent husbands, adorably precocious children, and finicky pets. Cassidy thought: Descendants of spelling bee champions and fellers of giant trees are harangued about the slings and arrows of lower tract distress. A monk sets himself afire in the street and folks run for the marshmallows. Or am I being picky?

After that, when he wasn't running or sleeping, he just read.

When his eyes tired, he tried just sitting.

-- Once a Runner by John L. Parker, Jr.

BookCrossing: Dead Solid Perfect

I'm posting this the very same day this book got caught, because I'm just so damn excited! It's been a while since I've had a wild catch and this entry for Dead Solid Perfect was a welcome sight, especially with its revelation that in less than 3 weeks the book has gone from Canada to Australia! After learning that the book was caught, I noticed that the date of release was 11 years to the day after the date of registration - 11 years of just sitting on my shelf gathering dust. And now, just 15 days after being freed, let's hope the book enjoys its new lease on life thousands of kilometres from home.

Here's the catch:

I picked up the book on a table in Starbucks located on Parkway Blvd in Coquitlam, BC Canada. On May 24th. It was days before our family vacation to Australia, so I decided to take the book on my plane ride and leave it in Sydney Australia.
I found the book to be very easy reading and as a golfer myself it was very funny!
This book is now left on a table in a Sydney Starbucks!

"run through" the thing

The object, according to Denton, was to "run through" the thing, just as he maintained one should attempt to "run through" most of those other little hubcaps life rolls into your lane; everything from death in the family to cancer of the colon.

Breaking down was not a required checkpoint on the road to competitive fitness. In fact, many coaches warned against it. But Denton viewed it as an opportunity to leapfrog over months of safer, less strenuous training, thus tempering survival-hardened muscles. The alternative, total rest, was too much the other extreme, the easy way out. That wouldn't do.

The toll on the runner—and those around him—was high, psychologically as well as physically. He became weak, depressed; he needed twelve to fourteen hours of sleep a night. He was literally desperate for rest, spent his waking hours with his legs elevated, in a state of general irritability. He became asexual, rendered, in the world of the immortal limerick, really quite useless on dates. He was a thoroughly unpleasant person.

-- Once a Runner by John L. Parker, Jr.

500 meters and simply

Later that spring when Denton made the U.S. Olympic team, nearly everyone professed surprise. Everyone except Dr. Stavius and a promising young miler named Quenton Cassidy, who watched the U.S. trials on television. True to form, Denton powered across the finish line in the 5000 meters and simply jogged past the cameras over to his sweats and departed the stadium. Everyone had ignored him for so long, it seemed to Cassidy a delicious gesture.

-- Once a Runner by John L. Parker, Jr.

Trial of Miles

There is time, he would tell them; time and time and time. He wanted to impart some of the truths Bruce Denton had taught him, that you don't become a champion by winning a morning workout. The only true way is to marshal the ferocity of your ambition over the course of many days, weeks, months, and (if you could finally come to accept it) years. The Trial of Miles; Miles of Trials. How could he make them understand?

-- Once a Runner by John L. Parker, Jr.

clear, turquoise color

My first feeling was a wild desire to drive a stake in the sand and claim the place for myself. The beach was white as salt, and cut off from the world by a ring of steep hills that faced the sea. We were on the edge of a large bay and the water was that clear, turquoise color that you get with a white sand bottom. I had never seen such a place. I wanted to take off all my clothes and never wear them again.

-- The Rum Diary by Hunter S. Thompson

through a crack

One Monday morning I was awakened by what sounded like children being butchered outside the window. I looked through a crack in the shutter and saw about fifteen tiny Puerto Ricans, dancing on the sidewalk and tormenting a three-legged dog. I cursed them viciously and hurried up to Al's for breakfast.

-- The Rum Diary by Hunter S. Thompson

usually it was rum

He seemed honest enough with me, and in those rare moments when he relaxed I enjoyed him immensely. But it was not often that he dropped his guard, and usually it was rum that made him do it. He relaxed so seldom that his natural moments had an awkward, childish quality that was almost pathetic. He had come so far from himself that I don't think he knew who he was anymore.

-- The Rum Diary by Hunter S. Thompson

drunk, dirty and no more

... and the best that can be said of that staff is that they were a strange and unruly lot. At best they were unreliable, and at worst they were drunk, dirty and no more dependable than goats.

-- The Rum Diary by Hunter S. Thompson