Interesting That Ruben Didn’t Do Anything Besides Give Out Bardics. Almost Like Killing Rats Doesn’t

I unfortunately wasn’t able to go to Bigger with Izzy and Brennan. But, luckily, my girlfriend did attend and gave me the most incomprehensible play by play of everything that happened. So like basically I saw it

Toddlers are so pure. She doesn’t understand that we help her with certain things because she’s little. She thinks that everyone just helps each other like that. So she tries to blow on my food and cut it up for me and tries to help me put on my shoes.

What is the actual original episode that Ice Feast is brought up in? All I can find is references to it

we all know about "yes and" and "no but" in improv and ttrpgs, but I feel like Brennan has added a third option called "sorry what" just for playing with Emily (saying her words back to her when she tells him that a caterpillar was chasing a butterfly or that this note was left on the steps of the police house)

I am so ready to see Gorgug being smart and using that new intelligence score on some sick ass tinkering

Baron is returning?! Absolutely horrifying. Cannot wait

the fix is one of the characters of all time. he’s played by hank green doing a vaguely southern accent. he literally cannot be stealthy. he uses the power of autism for both intimidation and flirting. he’s the biggest guy and made friends with the smallest guy as soon as he got the chance. he discovered choice and free will. he tried to say his boss’s hair looked nice and didn’t realize he had a hat on. him and his autistic wife adopted a whole orphanage of autistic children so they’re a giant autism family. really just everything

Mac is great representation actually because gay people can also be stupid and terrible and I think it’s important to not set our standards too high. Maybe I can’t be great, but I can sure be better than Mac

Writing a song so metal that you become god is insane

i keep thinking about how rfk said that autistic people "will never write a poem." i keep thinking about that, about if humanity is calculated on the back of old verse. how far we measure personhood is in baseball and stanza breaks.

i keep thinking - i have over 7k poems on here alone. language can be a special interest, after all. did you know the word autism comes almost direct from the greek word autos, meaning "self"? self-ism.

maybe he is right - i haven't really played baseball. i was a ballet dancer instead. and besides - my sister once accidentally hit me in the face with an aluminum bat. i'm not sure if the injury gives me half points. am i only a person in the dugout? hand in a mitt? swinging?

does softball count? does cricket? am i a person if i throw the ball to my dog. am i a person as long as the ball is in the air, or do i stop being a person as it rolls into the bushes. i took my girlfriend to fenway recently; was i a person in the sun, with my hands up, with the game laid out at my feet in a diamond. i felt like a person, but that was back in the summer, and i often feel my most person-like then.

am i more of a person because of the sheer number of things i've written? does quality matter, or is it quantity? i used to write entire books every summer in high school - i wasn't doing well. i felt the least like-a-person back then. but then - does any person feel human in high school?

in the library, ink on my skin, i feel personhood shutter at the edges of myself. actually, writing feels blissfully like not being myself. it feels birdlike; escaping into creation so my body dissolves and i survive only by muscle memory. i am not there, i am writing.

but who can deny the falconlike focus of warsan shire, the tenderness of mary oliver, the sheer skill of amanda gorman. those are poets. they are certainly human. you could line them up with the way their words have influenced us and measure their literary shadows like wings.

perhaps it was very assumptive of me to want to be a poet rather than "a [ label ] poet." i wanted the work to fill itself in, rather than be stained by what i am. i do not write in despite of my neurodivergence, i am just neurodivergent and writing.

does the poem have to be in english or can i send it through my palms into the coat of my dog. does the poem have to make sense. does the poem have to love you back.

if i break a glass, will the poem appear naturally? or is the act of breaking the glass human-enough. the shards of my life glittering out beneath me - do i have to write the poem, or is it self-evident in the pile of glass splinters? i cannot grasp this world the way other people can. regardless, i endeavor to touch - even the mess - very gently.

i broke my toenail against my coffee table recently. i released a bug outdoors. i made coffee. i walked my dog.

i didn't write a poem about any of these things.

something else, then. existing without humanity.