The Mighty Tardigrade Is Defined By His Endurance. He Persists, The Avatar Of Resilience. Tardigrade

From cover of March 31, 1952 General Motors Shareholders’ Quarterly Report. Shown is XP-300, the Buick LeSabre concept car

There was still such optimism about the future, then.

“Space station” by Denise Watt-Geiger, 1979.

I'm at the very functional end of the autism spectrum and I find randomness or change difficult and agitating. Sometimes, I do just have to say no.

What's tiring in the extreme is having to explain over and over to people who question every single time. It invalidates and devalues me. I find with cognitive, neurological, psychological and emotional disorders and conditions, people say they understand, that they are accepting and oppose stigma, but then do this "what's going on" confused, impatient, or disbelieving routine any time you show signs of a symptom or trait.

Worse, when you explain, they chime in again with their flaccid facile two cents on both the condition and my diagnosis. I've reached the point, I usually just want to reply with violence. Some ways I can flex, other ways not so much. And more stress = more rigid, less resilient. That's not complicated to remember.

“You cannot make everyone think and feel as deeply as you do. This is your tragedy … because you understand them, and they do not understand you.”

— Daniel Saint

It's still a few days til new years. My half ass goal for the next year will be to remain up this side of the soil. Mr. Gaiman, what the bugnuts is the Good Madness?

“May your coming year be filled with magic and dreams and good madness. I hope you read some fine books and kiss someone who thinks you’re wonderful, and don’t forget to make some art – write or draw or build or sing or live as only you can. And I hope, somewhere in the next year, you surprise yourself.”

— Neil Gaiman (via h-o-r-n-g-r-y)

As renowned as the Blue Note Sleeves are, that cover from Impulse steals this show. It's a great album too. 🎼🎼🎶🎺 🎷 🎹🎶🎼🎼

There is so much great music in the world, but there is nothing like the worlds of music in jazz.

Smoking Jazz Smokers

My inner self checking in, during the middle of night when no one is around to hear.

Lest We Forget On Remembrance Day

Willie and Joe by Bill Mauldin

As if I have the option not to.