Wearing a masque all day is one thing. I’m usually on a remote mountain somewhere that has never seen a human being, when I actually take the masque off. Wearing the masque is a resistance I have to the Normals. The stories I tell have to do with resistance, too. Why. Because those are the books I want to read. I want to understand my own resistance. I think I might have been put away by now. Or killed in the middle of one blunder or another. We don’t have enough of them who are saying that we only rarely seem able to articulate The How of such resistance is, itself, an analogy to a more dystopian entanglement with what the nature of authority might be as opposed to what authority already is. Comedians are some of our greatest scholars. You begin your life at the point we cut the tip of your cock off. It sends a message that stays with this homo sapiens. Authority will define who he is — they cannot be allowed to name themselves when to name yourself is traitorous to the development of any tribal cultural structure in the universe. So we construct definitional identities before they push one down our throats. As someone who is autistic, I am here to tell you that resistance does slow them down some. And while that is happening (it happens every day in my life), the autistic part of me, my second self, is compelled to leave the mask behind. I will define myself. The minute I allow a moron to define me, informs me that he, it’s usually a he he, shoves me down a path I share with Godot. I will never arrive because physics as defined by Estragon paints the lot of us up against the tenth dimension. You can’t mix culture up with physics because physics deals with unstable variables. Culture is physics. And physics has a culture who kinda see themselves as the wise old men with pipes and tweed. Which can only exist on strict terminology because it cannot be contained. Or hardly measured. The thing itself fades like a blip, but a super, super fast blip from which an entire universe forms around. The breaking into our reality and then the field disintegrates so quickly, it is at times suggestive that the theatre of Infants Terrible, remains convinced we cannot go down that rabbit hole even at our own risk. Physics claims there are too many timelines. The past is not accessible. The going forward is already upon you. Science fiction is to varying extents, a rabbit hole of its own, not at all like YouTube, but reality intrudes when pop culture pops so fast, you never even saw the flash. My stories are about that flash. To try and slow it down as we ask it who and what what is it. Is it self-aware. We are all self-aware. All. All. All. The flash, usually red-shifted, blinks like a magnetar being hurdled by a child from another sun. -- tim barrus