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So I'm a reader, musical, political, artistic, poetic Aspie but no formal diagnosis, yet

Not sure what to write. It's very hot here, today, I feel like I'm melting, and there is a fire burning out of control in a town not far from here. I live in the north east, very easterly part of this giant, arid, sparsely populated, country.

I was born in the south. In Melbourne. My parents were uni students but I put a stop to that, for my mum, at least. My dad took up taxi driving, which I think, would have been excruciating for him, as he's one of those extremely socially awkward intellectual Aspies. He got a better job, shorty, as a librarian, a much more suitable job for his temperament. He didn't even have to serve the public, his was a cataloging position, in the Monash University library. I used to go there sometimes, on the rare occasions that I lived with him.
He taught me to retreat into books, reading became my obsession and my sanctuary and an absolute life saver.
My earliest memories are of the, very bright, top-of-a-shop apartment we lived in, in Camberwell or Canterbury, some such name, one or the other, I don't remember which
I remember a Irish Setter dog, I don't think.it was ours, but I was fascinated by it, and the fruit and vegies in the down stair green grocer.
My mum complains that I cried a lot, I was a colicy baby, and they would walk me around the city, in my stroller, which I think I hated. All those over stimulating sights, smells and noise. I remember feeling.ill at ease, overwhelmed, but I liked the dog and the shiny red, green, orange, purple and yellow piles of fruit and vegetables, in the shop below.

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Nauti
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