Therapy: “people call me cold!”

The Daily Isotope has obtained the notes and transcript of the following therapy session. It has been edited for length and comprehension.

Therapist: Welcome to therapy. What’s on your mind?

Patient: I feel like people are asking me to change my very nature.

Therapist: What makes you say this?

Patient: They say that I’m cold. It hurts, you know!

Therapist: I understand.

Patient: Some of them even say I’m downright frigid.

Therapist: How does that make you feel?

Patient: Terrible! What’s more, I have a friend I regularly go out with. Everyone calls my friend warm.

Therapist: Do go on.

Patient: Heck, they even call my friend burning hot at times.

Therapist: Okay, but why does this make you feel terrible?

Patient: It is a bit on the nose, isn’t it? They are intimating that I should change my nature.

Therapist: How so?

Patient: I’m a refrigerator! It is my nature to be cold!

Therapist: I had noticed, but it is good to hear you voice it.

Patient: I do have a warm side, but people ignore it.

Therapist: Oh?

Patient: My coils are hot, but people never think to look at them and comment about how hot they are. They are on my back. It’s not like I can move them to be more evident.

Therapist: You mentioned a friend.

Patient: What about my friend?

Therapist: This friend is…

Patient: Oh, it is an oven.

Therapist: I see. For a second there, I thought it might be a furnace.

Among the therapists notes, we found the following scribbles:

A new pickup line?? How would it go???

“Hello, pretty. You must be a fridge.”

“What? Are you saying I’m frigid?”

“No!!!! It is because your coils are so hot.”

“Fuck off…”

Hmm… maybe not.

In a similar vein:

https://www.thedailyisotope.com/2024/10/30/machines-now-diagnosed-with-mental-conditions/

Healthcare in the US: it all makes sense if you’re a squirrel

The Daily Isotope obtained the transcript of a discussion between a customer seeking health coverage, and a customer service representative at a state agency.

Customer: Hi.

Customer Service Representative: Hello. Can you confirm your name [etc…]

C: [Confirms name, etc.]

CSR: What can I help you with?

C: I’d like to buy health coverage, but your site says I’m ineligible.

CSR: That’s correct.

C: But it makes no sense. They are going to cut my current coverage soon. I should be able to buy new coverage.

CSR: Can you take notes?

C: Yes.

CSR: You cannot purchase coverage because you are still currently co…

C: This does not make sense!

CSR: Sir, let me finish. The script I’m following is super important. I must finish what I started telling you.

C: Or what? The universe is going to explode?

CSR: I am offended by your insinuation.

C: Alright, go on.

CSR: Because you are still currently covered. You need to go to [this website] or call [this number].

C: But it does not make sense!

CSR: Yes, it does.

C: Why should I have to talk to a different agency? You are responsible for healthcare in my state. It does not make sense.

CSR: It does!

C: How so?

CSR: It makes total sense… if you are squirrel.

C: What?

CSR: You just have to look at it from the perspective of a squirrel. They do not stash their nuts all into the same hole, do they?

C: No, but this has nothing to do with my situation.

CSR: It does.

C: How come?

CSR: Just like a squirrel spreads his food among multiple hole, we’ve decided to spread resources among multiple agencies.

C: Anyway. What do I do with the information you gave me?

CSR: You’re going to have to make an application for financial help at that website or phone number.

C: What? I know I’m not eligible for financial help. I’m going to have to apply just so that they can reject me before I can purchase coverage.

CSR: How would I know?

C: But you’ve just told me…

CSR: I don’t know. I don’t work there.

C: Good grief! None of this makes any sense!

CSR: Actually…

C: What? I must look at it from the point of view of a squirrel again?

CSR: No, you need a lobotomy for what I’ve just told you to make sense.

This story was inspired by an actual discussion between a customer and a customer service representative.

Why I Usually Don’t Get All Pissy When A Relationship Fails

I don’t like drama.

Finding a picture for this article was hard. That’s because a lot of the pictures I found imply feelings that I don’t have. (I’m not crushed, or angry, etc.) Or they imply the end of a long and intense relationship. It wasn’t the case here.

My latest date told me minutes ago that she was polysaturated, and that it would not be possible for us to have a relationship. I replied that I understood, and she thanked me for my understanding.

For those who may not know, the term “polysaturated” implies that we are polyamorous. I already have a boyfriend, and she already has a husband and another partner. I don’t wish to give a lecture here about polyamory. Suffice to say that our existing partners were duly informed about our date. Polyamorous people do not hide their new romantic liaisons from their existing partners.

The term “polysaturated” also indicates that someone has too many partners, and cannot conceivably add another partner to the mix. What this number is will vary from person to person, and from situation to situation. The person in question has four kids, besides her husband, and one other partner. I readily understand the issue.

The behavior I displayed is not unusual for me. This is actually how I want my relationship failures to happen. No drama. Just people who tell each other their truth. This time, she passed on me, but I’ve sometimes been the one passing on the other person. It is never fun, but not devastating. In the case at hand here, we did not have sex, but sometimes the failure happened after we did have sex. Some external factor caused our relationship to end prematurely. I still did not get pissy.

I’ve qualified my sentence with “usually” in my title because it is in fact possible for me to get pissy in these circumstances, but you have to have also betrayed me in some fashion for this to happen. This hasn’t happened often, and the mere fact that our relationship is not going to evolve is not in and of itself betrayal.

However, I’m the type of autistic person who likes, at times, to consider the path not taken. What if? What if I had become pissy and indignant? “How dare you pass on me? Don’t you realize what it is you have in me?” There are two likely outcomes to this hypothetical behavior.

She can respond in kind with her own indignation. In this case, I’ve made an enemy. Not that I think there’s a lot she could do to me, but I don’t want to make enemies unnecessarily.

Or she can change her mind to please me. In this case, I’ve won, right? Not at all. This putative “victory” is illusory. What good does it do me to be with someone who agrees to be with me only to pacify me? What kind of relationship would we then have? It would be a relationship based on fear, which is not what I want.

It is a shame that this relationship is not going to flourish, but I never pressure people into things they do not want or cannot handle. It is just not my style.

A restaurant staffed by AI

The Daily Isotope sent a reporter to a restaurant staffed entirely by AI. We present here a transcript of the interaction.

Waitress: Good evening, sir. I’ll be your waitress tonight. My name is Piss.

Journalist: Oh, sorry. I don’t like my name, either.

W: No, I mean, my name is actually “Piss.”

J: Ah, er, AI-generated?

W: I’m afraid so. Now, what will you have to drink?

J: Do you have Coca-Cola?

W: No, but we have Krok-Koala. That’s the AI-generated substitute of Coca-Cola.

J: I’ll have that then.

W: Very good. I’ll give you time to find out what you want to eat.

[Later.]

W: How do you want your Krok-Koala?

J: Er… the usual way?

W: Very well. [The waitress presses her robotic tits together, and a jet of liquid hits the journalist in the face.]

J: The hell! This assault is the opposite of what I wanted!

W: Hmm… bend over and prepare for rectal delivery.

J: That’s not what I meant. I wanted it in a glass! And please remove your mask. It is distracting.

W: Sir, this is my face.

J: What? Two minute ago it was bare, but it is now covered in fur.

W: The AI keeps changing our appearance. There’s nothing we can do about it.

J: Well, get me a towel. I still have to review this restaurant.

W: How about “O?”

J: What are you talking about?

W; What’s wrong with “O?” It is a perfectly good vowel, and it not like there are lots of choices.

J: I asked for a TOWEL.

W: I’m sorry. My voice to text module had trouble for a moment. I thought you wanted a vowel. I’ll get you a towel.

[Later.]

W: Are you ready to order?

J: Yes, I’ll have the spotted dick.

W: Sorry, we cannot serve you this.

J: Why?

W: The d-word is censored. Besides, our chef is liable to misinterpret your order and fetch the actual organ.

J: Okay, I’ll have the black pudding, then.

W: Excellent choice!

[Later]

W: Here is your black pudding.

J: It… it… smells like shit. [Cuts into it and smells it.] Good grief! It is shit! What kind of game are you playing here?

W: Do you want to talk to the chef?

J: Absolutely.

[A minute elapse.]

Chef: Sir, you want to talk to me?

J: What is this?

C: Black pudding.

J: No, this is shit!

C: Oh, isn’t it what black pudding is supposed to be? When I look at it in magazines, it does look like a slick turd. Look at this image!

J: It does look like shit, but I bet that’s your AI’s interpretation of black pudding.

C: Well, yes, it is.

J: That’s it, then! I’m done!

C: But what about dessert?

J: You can shove it up your rear end.

C: As you wish… Piss, come over! I need your help.

W: What is it?

C: I’m going to bend over, and you’re going to shove some dessert up my rear end.

W: Understood…

[The journalist walks out while the two AI androids prepare for rectal delivery.]

Star Thrush: Habeas Corpus

Narrator: These are the voyages of the star thrush Habeas Corpus. Its mission, to explore those recesses of the galaxy where nobody dares to go. Well, except for the people already there, but you know, the civilized world dares not go there, and that’s what counts.

Captain Eurgh: Mr. Doohickey set a course for Pablum 3.

Doohickey: Aye, aye, captain.

Captain Eurgh: What? Where’s the aye-aye?

Science Office Four Eye: Captain, there is no aye-aye. Doohickey was simply answering affirmatively.

Captain Eurgh: I see.

Narrator: The Habeas Corpus, the jewel of the fleet. Captain Eurgh is her commander, and Ancy DeLaTroi, the pansexual, is his right hand.

DeLaTroi: Why do you always do this?

Narrator: Do what?

DeLaTroi: Why refer to my sexuality? I’m an engineer. I was at the Battle of Xorth for crying out loud. My sexuality is the least interesting bit about me.

Narrator: Eurgh…

Captain Eurgh: You called me?

Narrator: No, I was just clearing my throat.

Captain Eurgh: Dammit.

DeLaTroi: You don’t refer to Captain Eurgh as Eurgh, the straight, do you?

Four Eye: First Officer DeLaTroi, the pansexual, there is a message for you.

DeLaTroi: [To the narrator:] See! That shit is spreading! [To Four Eye:] What’s the message?

Four Eye: Remember to buy milk on your way home.

DeLaTroi: Here I am, First Officer of the Habeas Corpus, Veteran of the Battle of Xorth, being reminded to buy milk… You know what that makes me, don’t you?

Narrator: Pansexual??

DeLaTroi: Argh!

Captain Eurgh: Aha! You called, right?

DeLaTroi: No, said Argh, not Eurgh.

Captain Eurgh: Awww….

Ensign Argh: What do you need?

DeLaTroi: The officers’ toilet is clogged. Go deal with it.

Ensign Argh: Aye, aye, First Officer DeLaTroi, the pansexual.

DeLaTroi: Argh!

Ensign Argh: Yes?

DeLaTroi: No, I was just expressing frustration.

Ensign Argh: I can unclog the toilet, but you know what it means, right? I’m going to die while doing it, because I’m a red shirt.

DeLaTroi: Well, this is a cross we will all have to bear.

Narrator: Thus ends this episode of Star Thrush: Habeas Corpus. Will DeLaTroi, the panse…

DeLaTroi: This shit again!

Narrator: Eurgh…

Captain Eurgh: What?

Desperate for money, man erects paywall around himself

The Daily Isotope conducted an interview with a man who thought he’d reap riches if he erected a paywall around himself and asked people to subscribe to him. We have reproduced here the interview, with minimal editing.

Daily Isotope: People told us you now require a subscription in order to interact with them. Is this true?

Man: Yes. This interaction was the first of your three free monthly interactions.

DI: Do people actually subscribe?

Man: Yes, I have two subscribers. A lot of people decide to just not interact with me, but that’s their loss. This interaction was the second of your three free monthly interactions.

DI: What do you do when officials, like the police, want to talk to you?

Man: They get limited free access. This interaction was the last of your three free monthly interactions.

DI: Really?

Man: You have used up your three free monthly interactions. You now need to subscribe.

DI: This is stupid.

Man: You have used up your three free monthly interactions. You now need to subscribe.

DI: You have the intelligence of an amoeba.

Man: [Angrily.] You bloody f… You have used up your three free monthly interactions. You now need to subscribe.

DI: [At this point, our reporter sighed, and put on a wig and Groucho Marx glasses. He also shifted the range of his voice higher.]

DI: Really?

Man: Yes, the other interviewer really had used up all their free interactions for the month. This interaction was the first of your three free monthly interactions.

DI: Doesn’t this paywall thing make dating difficult.

Man: Dating is a topic unlocked if you pay for our After Dark tier.

A Senseless Breakup As a Zen Koan

She put me in an impossible situation, and gave me the gift of a koan.

I’m still reeling from the worst breakup of my life. Well, the worst breakup so far. There’s no telling if something even worse will come some day. It’s been almost two years, but last night a song came up and I cried anew. Sometimes, it is like it happened yesterday.

I don’t go into relationships reservedly. This is true with everyone. My current boyfriend. My ex-wife. And the girl who is the topic of this piece. So, without reservations, I gave her everything I could give her. Most of all, I gave her my ability to listen, and my patience. How were my ability to listen and my patience useful?

She engaged in self-harm. The scars were plainly visible during our first date. She answered truthfully when I asked about them.

She abused substances. She was truthful about this, too.

She did not follow her medication regimen. She told me so, truthfully.

She flat out told me, months before our breakup, that she did not see a future for us. This was her truth.

I listened patiently to all of this, without flying off the handle. I don’t know what anger would have given me, beyond an immediate and short-lived feeling of satisfaction. If anything, it would most likely have ruined our relationship sooner. It actually almost did. One day, we had an argument in which she denied the existence of racism. I could not tolerate this, and so I flew off the handle.

She saw me as her abusive mother, and I triggered her cPTSD. I did not physically harm her – I would never have done this – but my yelling was enough. She ran out of my apartment to cool down. I was so horrified at my reaction that I decided to break up with her. She came back saying that if we worked on our relationship, we could make things work. I accepted her offer and we came back together.

Her denial of racism punched me in the gut. I’m the type of enby who will readily cry if he sees black parents on the news talk about the senseless assassination of their child by cops. I live in a majority black neighborhood. Heck, my boyfriend is black. Denying obvious racism is an excellent way to get me to explode. I’m not proud of this, but it was the truth (and maybe still is the truth). This is the only time I displayed anger with her.

The life I had lived with my ex-wife prior to our divorce was extremely peaceful… and I daresay now too peaceful for growth. The partners I’ve had after my divorce have taught me so much. I am already enlightened. Anger is not generally a useful emotion. Anger is a choice that I am making. Etc. If the girl I’m talking about denied racism today, I’d hope that I wouldn’t fly off the handle. Still, I’m not sure that even today, I’d be able to handle it peacefully. It is such a gut punch.

Your Autistic Life is supported by readers like you. Use one of the links below to support my writing! Thank you.

Okay. So, I said that she gave me the gift of a koan. What is a koan? It is a device that Zen practitioners use. Some koans are textual. Here is an example of a textual koan:

What is the sound of one hand clapping?

In order to answer the question, a Zen student encountering this koan will typically try to think their way through it, and will fail miserably. It is possible to answer this koan, but not through discursive stratagems. There are many such textual koans in the Zen tradition. There is, however, another type of koan. I don’t think I’m being original here, but I’m going to call this a life koan. It is a situation that grips you deeply in your gut. It is unsatisfactory, and maybe unresolvable.

When this girl broke up with me, she did put me into an impossible situation. When our relationship was firing on all cylinders, it was pure magic. I had adored her, and given her everything I could give, and yet… this was not enough.

Why?

Oh, I can list dozens of reasons, but these reasons are all bullshit. She did give me reasons, but a few weeks after our breakup she revealed to me, from her own mouth, that her reasons were lies. How far had we fallen from her initial truthfulness?

Thus, it is, that almost two years after our breakup. I wrestle with this koan: why did she leave me? I don’t think this question has a satisfactory answer. This koan is a parting gift that she gave me, inadvertently. Still, it is a gift, and one that I will most likely animate my Zen practice to my death.

Is Meditation More Pleasurable Than Sex?

What being neurodivergent and queer has taught me about this question.

There is frank talk about sex in what follows here, including masochism. In my view, it is light talk, but reader beware.

From time to time I see claims that meditation is indeed more pleasurable than sex.

Wow!

Let’s reach for the meditation cushion to have a cosmic orgasm, right?

Hold off for a second.

It is possible that, for some people, meditation is more pleasurable than sex. It does not follow from this that meditation is more pleasurable than sex, for everyone, generally speaking. I’m going to explain why I don’t believe that this claim applies in the general sense.

I have good reasons for saying this, I’ve practiced Zen meditation for over 28 years now. I’ve never had a “cosmic orgasm,” or any “out of this world” experience in meditation. Have I grown in my meditation practice? Yes, I have. However, I do not cultivate any extraordinary experiences in meditation. My practice is all about unlearning.

https://www.yourautisticlife.com/2024/11/05/on-zen-practice/

Now, I also enjoy sex. Guess what? I do hold that sex is more pleasurable than meditation. Am I contradicting those who hold that meditation is more pleasurable than sex? Not necessarily. If they hold that everyone performing meditation will find it more pleasurable than sex, then yes, I’m contradicting them. However, if the claim is that they find meditation more pleasurable than sex, then their claim is compatible with my experience.

So, how does being neurodivergent and queer allow me to harmonize my claim with theirs? We neurodivergent people are well aware that people do not all perceive the world in the same way. Our experiences may seem to entail contradictory claims, and still not actually be contradictory. My experience with famotidine is a case in point. It made me depressed, which is an extremely rare side effect. The fact that a lot of people take the medicine without experiencing this does not negate my own experience.

https://www.yourautisticlife.com/2023/12/05/when-famotidine-messes-with-your-head/

Add to this the fact that people’s experience of sex can differ wildly. I’m sex-positive. Some people are sex-neutral or sex-negative. For someone who is grossed out by sex, I’ll bet that a lot of things are better than sex, including, maybe, meditation. However, their experience with meditation does not negate my own.

Even more confounding. Some people are masochists. Some masochists can reach orgasm from pain alone. Again, this is their experience, and their experience does not negate that of the majority of the population, including my own. I definitely do not get orgasms from pain. I hate pain. I don’t want it.

Let me ask you this. Is it better to find meditation more pleasurable than sex and pursue meditation because of this? Or is it better to find sex more pleasurable than meditation and yet persist in one’s meditation practice? Which of the two is likely to be a crass pursuit of pleasure for pleasure’s sake?

In my book, meditation is not more pleasurable than sex. If my meditation turned out to be more pleasurable than sex, then my technique would be one that promotes extraordinary experiences, and my meditation would not be meditation, but something akin to the practice of tennis.