Dude. You're FUCKED UP.

Monday, December 7, 2009

This whole beginnings thing is really fucking me up. Figuring out what to write about and what Nikki is going to write about is hard. Figuring out how to go about telling stories about my friends on a blog for entertainment is insanely brain twisting and figuring out what parts of my life are worth writing about and what parts of my life are just emo crap is confusing the shit out of me. I wouldn't even try this if there wasn't someone (good looking, talented, patient, insightful) else to bounce ideas off and get editorial feedback from.

I'm an odd duck, and lots of things don't make sense without explaining some of that oddness, so vanity seems like the answer for what to write about next to bring you up to speed. I'm an odd duck. I was a child prodigy. Growing up I aced everything. I had reading and comprehension scores off the charts - I was topping out at maximum for post graduate college students when I was 8. I was always good at Maths and had a natural affinity for computers from the time I first learned to read. But I have no artistic talent at all. I can't play an instrument to save myself. I can't read sheet music. I can barely handwrite even. I'm ambidextrous with some things and I can juggle and do all sorts of things that are hard for everyone else - but I suck at throwing a ball or catching like a normal person. I had a speech impediment as a kid that made me seem that little bit more odd and I grew up untill I started school in a community where I was the only european kid.

Even though i had a bunch of aboriginal play mates - none of them lived close. In the bush - everything spreads out. My parents were caretakers for a camping ground that was owned by a drug dealer before they took it over. So big dogs and guns were around from as early as I can remember. All the isolation of farms - but none of the live stock. I remember my mum loading the gun while she was on the phone to the cops, and firing a warning shot to convince the police that they should get off their asses and clear the car full of strangers, looking for a drug dealer out of our yard.

I remember our German Shepard dragging me away from a billabong full of crocadiles by the diaper.

I've seen photos of myself in a backpack, with the sleeping bag and the saucepans, on my mothers back as she abseiled down a waterfall face, leading a tour.

When I was old enough to start noticing things about our family and other peoples families, I first noticed that I was an only child - which was rare where we lived. Then I noticed that my mum was about 12 years older then my dad, which was way weird where we lived.

My dad was a heavy drinker, but not a mean drunk - just the life of the party. I have pictures of my dad stuffing me down the barrel of a bronzed naval cannon and that sort of gag was very typical of my dad. We used to go out on the weekend to the beach with dad's mates - we'd fill the back of a pickup with beers and then top the load with a half tonne of ice from the ice factory, then buy morton bay bugs (like lobster, expensive and trendy now, but they used to be waste catch that was just thrown away) - by the 44 gallon drum and then split the drums, fill them with salt water and barbeque them on the beach while the adults drank beers and the kids played in the sand.

Untill I was about 6 - my social interactions were primarily with adults. Thomas was my best friend, an aboriginal kid from around the corner who didn't talk. His parents were always drunk or huffing petrol. Thomas came to our house to play, which as an adult I recognise is probably another way of saying to avoid being beaten or raped. Aboriginal kids have it rough up north.

But my dad worked for a youth support service, and we always had a house full of kids in their late teens and early 20's who dad was counselling or helping through random stuff. So my real friends were at least 12 or 13 years older then me and really just tolerating me because I was cute (it faded). I remember playing transformers and watching simba the white lion with hung over bush teenagers who'd been drinking at our house the night before. My real friends were troubled, alcoholic young adults who I think needed me to be their friend more then the other way around.

Through all of my young life there was a pattern of kids who needed me more then I needed them. My friends were all fucked up. ADD kids, kids who'd stabbed people. Kids who were named after candy bars and were violent about being teased. I don't think any of my early childhood friends finished highschool. A few of them got equivalencies in their early 20's - they were the odd ones. One friend got onto the Australian under 17's soccer team and got a contract in the UK - the rest of them are now either labourers, addicts, petty criminals or in the armed forces as far as I know.

I'm digressing I know. But I'm trying to establish that I'm socially not normal. I probably have some condition on the Autism spectrum. We think Aspergers (heh, Ass Burgers) but it's not a confirmed diagnosis. I also have Dysgraphia which affects my handwriting and drawing as well as fucking with my social behaviours a little. Whatever it is that makes me weird, it makes me noticably weird. I know more then any normal human about a few isolated topics - computers and kinky sex being the primary ones. A few obscure genre's of fiction following closely.

Some of my clearest memories are things like the smell of a leather handbag my mother owned. A scene in a movie where the male lead orders the female lead to strip naked and swim. Playing doctor with a girl I knew and having to hold her down for a proceedure. Games where one person was in control and everyone else was an Animal who had to do what the person in control said.

My dad fell into the IT industry through a job fluke (from nurse to ambulance driver to cab driver to piano salesman to youth councillor to demolitions instructor to IT guy, perfectly natural progression right?) and as a result we had computers around the house from the early 80's onwards. Being a child prodigy - I knew almost as much about computers as he did by the time I was 8. We had modems and access to Fidonets and BBS systems - the antique precursor to the internet. I knew more about sex by the time I hit highschool then the average 40 year old hooker. I was interested in fetishes early.

I took martial arts for several years, Judo and later Jujitsu. In Jujitsu I made a lot of older friends. 16 and 17 year old friends when I was 14. I was big for my age. I always looked older then I was. All my older friends as a kid and my social weirdness made me pass for older then I was. I got invited to a party and lied to my parents that I was sleeping over at a friends. It was my first teen party. My first party with more girls then parents. My first party with alcohol. I had no idea about the many powers of alcohol when mixed with teenager hormones. I nursed a beer the entire night and had half of it left when well into the night, sitting and laughing with a group of 20 or so kids, a very drunk girl who'd been drinking straight from the bottle of vodka slurred out 'Who wants a blowie?' - half a beer had my courage up and I thought it was just a joke anyway, so I volunteered. She crawled across to me, pulled me out of my pants and gave me my first orgasm in front of 20 cheering, drunken teens.

The word got around to some kids my own age and grew teeth, ears and extra legs. The fact that I'd been answering questions about sex for years anyway thanks to my hard earned knowledge of pornography added to the legend and I was rapidly elevated into a sex god in my own lifetime. It's a remarkable quirk of fate when an Aspie kid gets laid before he can afford to go to bars. When an Aspie kid gets my highschool sex life it's a goddamn miracle. I had a series of girlriends, none of them ever lasted long but almost all of them were experimental. Hands tied to the bed. Spankings. Hair pulling and control games. When I was not quite 16, still not legal, I lied about my age to some people I met online, lied to my parents about where I was going, took a bus 2 hours west of my house and met a strange older man at the bus stop and rode out to his farm with him. I spent the weekend with him and his 'slaves' - an older woman and a younger woman - in her mid 20's. I beat her with a paddle, ordered her around all night and she statutorily raped me several times later that night.... while tied up.

It's a miracle that I lived through that even really, much less that nobody got charged or caught an STI as a result really.