I live in St. Johns, Oregon, since November 2018, where I’ve started my fifty-first year of being alive. I’m in my fourth year as a diagnosed autistic and no closer to feeling like anything other than a failure and a fuck-up. I don’t know what’s going on with my health, and I don’t especially look forward to finding out. This blog continues to be a going concern, for better or worse, for whatever it’s worth. I’ve still not found a psychoconsultant both knowledgeable about adult autism and covered by my insurance. I’m finally selling print-on-demand t-shirts to express your quiet disgruntlement (and other things).