Author: n.n. benn

n.n benn is fictional and autistic. this is their diary. new poetry and philosophical musings every tues, thurs and sat direct to your inbox. and while you are here, check out my videos on youtube and spoken word poetry on spotify, apple music etc (search for the love epochal)

plug stuck

am overwhelming day, a meltdown throws my phone away
the bath is full of soapy water, the plug stuck in its circlet
it’s thursday the 12th, what the fuck will tomorrow bring?
i start the drill and it’s enough
to scare the plug from its crown

when you find out you are probably autistic, there is a tendency to temporarily get more autistic. i have actually only had a few meltdowns. i am a quite person. i am prone to shutdowns. i don’t like to draw attention to myself.

the few meltdowns i have had have tended to get me in serious trouble. like, arrested, or hospitalised.

on this occasion, i merely smashed a phone that was already quite scratched up and to be honest i probably wanted an excuse to buy a new one.

oh and the plug got stuck in the bath. i have written about this before! it was annoying! check the archives!

5 beta 1

i make a million lists
and enjoy morning mist
from november 2016
us cyclists are cut from different stuff.
but not very much of it
aged 39, version 4.0, aged four-zero, version 5 beta 1
you gotta believe me, life comes for you, son

so i had a mid life crisis from 2022-23. i got misdiagnosed with emphysema and spiralled a bit. got very depressed. went through a break up. fell in love. then got unmisdiagnosed.

i sort of jokingly referred to my mid life crisis as benn 4.0. but before i even really got into the swing of it, i found out i was autistic. so i decided i’m not on benn 5 beta 1.

diarrhoea and dandruff

put primo down, nobody cared, not even humoured
zapped and solitary, unarchiving and decrypting
violent gut, cash drop,
shy black sheep dribble down a gravel path…
as a poet it frustrates me no end that i am able to articulate my identity crisis
only through the bodily language of diarrhoea and dandruff.

i’d just recorded the first song of my album, toblerone, but nobody was very interested. that remains the case — it is available on spotify and all other good record streams though if you are interested. search for ‘the love epochal’. at the time i was planning on releasing a new song and video every month.

one of the things about autism is that it can be hard to work out how time consuming a plan is going to be. it turns out that schedule was incompatible with having a job. but i managed it for six months and that’s quite good i reckon.

and when i wrote these lines, i was having an identity crisis and was suffering some physical symptoms. itchy scalp. bad gut. good thing i had my poetry to keep me going.

iceberg lean-to

i construct and unscrew,
mucky pup grana podano iceberg lean-to
banana brought to the monkey puzzle tree party
interoception fails me, intercepted daily
life in general is supremely () based
release back lever,
push the back backwards
and it pings back forwards
yeah i’m bringing back sexy back

i was helping my girlfriend with some diy, mainly just getting in the way and slowing things down. we took a break and went for pizza on v. rd. very good pizza. the best in town. and for a side we got an iceberg grana padano lean-to. it wasn’t really a lean to. it was more of a pavilion of lettuce in a snowstorm of cheese. i took poetic licence.

then i read a sentence in a book about autism that said life in general is supremely socially based, which i laughed at due to the internet meaning of based.

then i played with my office chair and reflected on justin timberlake.

i postulate a remedy

i postulate a remedy that dismantles temporarily
the apparatus of the mind that filter and sieve
and obfuscate the things historic versions of the user
have deemed to be unhelpful.
the patient’s neuroplasticity is augmented,
the user returned to her pure, infantile character,
unvarnished by cynicism, laughing at the creases on her fingers,
laughing and forgetting everything.
available from all good doctors.

hello, welcome to the new month. i hope you enjoy the lines above, regarding a medicine that i think many people might enjoy. because you know, it’s wild out there on the mean streets.

just today, i was cycling down v. rd when a lunatic tried to kill me for no reason. he almost hit me at a junction, unintentionally but carelessly. i gave his bumper a wee tap with my hand to let him know i was there. he took this as an invitation to try again to kill poor me.

he then raced to try and hit me at the next road that the bike lane crossed over, but got there too late. so he reversed back onto the main road, and tried again, driving road onto the bike lane outside the post office. fortunately he didn’t get me. but he did get out the car to confront me — i obviously just raced away.

anyway, one of the posties got in touch with a photo of the vehicle. should i shop him?

theory of art

more chocolate, aye? indolent wean
you can’t afford it so your not having it
i have a theory that ultimately art is just a way of filling time, no more noble than sports
different but the same

well that was august. i suppose we will have september next as part two: getting there (a brexit prayer) continues.

i’m going to reduce the av content for a while. it has been fun but it hasn’t generated much engagement while distracting me from other things, like actually working on poetry and music. so i am just going to be posting on the blog a couple of times a week with poetry and thoughts while i finish a novella i am working on called ‘comin’ up.’

the last day of summer

get out of the city, they said, it’s the last day of summer
the pierced beef monster prances like a panzer
leaving me stranded in my body with my pain
spent like a torn fiver on rest and be thankful again
i feed the birds i make them sing
good souls do forgive everything

me and n. g. were gonna cycle round arran. but the ferry was broken so we needed a new plan last minute. decided to go to kilcreggan but missed that ferry. so went to dunoon instead. cycled uphill for ages. then descended into a field and got chased by a bull. huge thing with a nose ring and a mohawk. luckily we escaped and went on to have a successful bike ride off roading around argyle and i hardly cursed and swore and despaired at all.

the knot is twisted back

i wish i knew what i wanted. for dinner.
monday morning and the knot is twisted back in my gut
the thirteenth rodeo, the second non-event
month-end creeps up, the knot does too
patch anxious rum for philosophy on the radio
make a random avizandam on a tandem with the phantom fan
cross the eyes and splot the teas
cracker please

i was having an anxious time, hating my job, going through the process of getting formally diagnosed with autism. but what i really want to talk about today is packing.

i am packing my bags today for the third time in like two weeks and honestly man i hate it. its exhausting. so much stress. why do i need so many artefacts? why must i live in a historical epoch of such complication?

but on the plus side i will get to go on holiday tomorrow so that’s good. although, by the time this has been published… i will be back from the holiday. so that’s sad. but it will be a sunday at least so that’s good.

sorry if you work sundays. and i realise today isn’t sunday. i will get back from the holiday on sunday. i am having trouble comprehending the linearity of time right now.

timetable tragedy and timetable farce

of course, next year with the introduction of the new calendar,
the edinburgh festival will move from august to hedonia
should i feel nonplussed by a non pluss-one-ing
when the price of capitalism is eternal vagrancy
twelve hours in edinburgh twice from quarter to twelve
twice no train at half eleven, tragedy and farce
catch up on couch and life’s little errands

each august i meet some friends and go to the edinburgh festival. last year’s highlight was my fellow poet tim key. this year josie long was the best thing i saw.

josie mentioned that she was horny for a particular type of glaswegian man — moustached boulderers with whimsical tattoos. i’ll maybe say hello if i see her at the climbing centre. she further clarified that she was only interested in autistic and dyslexic men. i mean, its all a joke, but its good to know that there is a type of me… i’m not the only one.

last year i told everyone to get the train to edinburgh at 11.30 am — we met at the station and there simply was not a train at that time. then i rushed us to the station in the evening for the 11.30 pm to glasgow. again — there was no such service. i’m sure hegel mentioned somewhere or other that all great timetabling errors happen twice. what he neglected to mention was that the first error comes in the form of tragedy. the second as farce.