A Book of Tongues: THUD

509 friggin' words, after virtually all day spent staring at it 'til I thought my brow was going to bleed. Still, I've cracked 58,000 words overall, and I do creep closer to Bewelcome. I'm also very much enjoying the fruits of my 16 Horsepower searches. There are apparently at least two other 16 HP albums, Low Estate and Secret South, and from what I can tell from reading their lyrics (hosted at David Eugene Edwards' home-page, Thanks For Clapping), I absolutely must have them.

Some other stuff brewing, too--possibly good. I can't say much about it, though. And I thought idly today about trying to write something for Beneath Ceaseless Skies, maybe set in the same universe as BoT--that The Heart's Filthy Lesson prequel idea I once had, an eternity ago. Especially since I've sort of started thinking of Heart's Filthy... as the most obvious candidate for my "next" novel, after I finally force myself through this one...

Anyhow: Moot, at the moment. Tomorrow will be an endless parade of Cal-related activities, culminating in the fabled Sharon/Bram show over at PAL. I wonder if he'll be up to it.

I wonder if I will.

Well, THAT's Better

556 words in an hour and a half, with (maybe) enough time for a short shower before I pick Cal up and get him over to Surrey Place. He still has a froggy cough, but I think he'll be okay...

Surrey Place, et al

Okay: An incredibly crammed day, but overall, I'm just so proud of Cal. He did his usual JK, I picked him up, realized that because we'd brought him over in the stroller we couldn't go on the streetcar, so power-walked to the nearest subway station with wheelchair access (Queen) and then did the dumbest thing imaginable--I got off at College, thought: "Oh crap, I was supposed to get off at Dundas," so got back on and went down a station...only to realize that nooo, it WAS College, and had to power-walk back up Bay to College. Nevertheless, I got there by 12:00, which meant we coincided directly with their outside play-time; he got to run and slide for an hour, and he absolutely loved it. The IBI therapists were all enchanted with him, and he was remarkably friendly towards them. After, we went upstairs and they worked on him while I read in the hall, easily accessible but not exactly present enough to interfere. Then they took him into the gym and swung him in a sling, rolled him around in a big tube, etc.--I heard lots of laughter, along with the usual stream of echolalia. Around 2:30 PM, fifteen minutes before the cut-off, he came and got me, took me by the hands, kissed me and manded me to pick him up. "Let's get you home for supper!" He said, a line from a song he likes. "You want to go home? You want food?" He nodded, so I fed him, then packed him up. It was an amazing beginning--like an amusement park for little autistic boys. We'll see how fast the novelty wears off once he has to go there every day for six hours or so, but...very good. Very good indeed.;)

On the way home, I let him play in the Dundas Square fountains (which are finally on), and he got very wet. Then down to Mom's, where we realized the Sharon, Lois and Bram concert was at 8:00 PM. We played The Aristocats as he slid obsessively, tried to get him to eat, with varying success. I think he really needed downtime. By 8:00, when Mom brought him down, he took one look at the crowd in the Green Room and just started to shriek in rage and fear. "Take him out!" One old fucker kept yelling, so we did; thank God I don't know the bastard's name, because I wanted to punch him in the face. I went up to get the stroller, thinking we'd just have to leave, but when they closed the doors and started to sing, Cal perked up. We held him up and let him watch through the windows for a couple of songs, at which point he indicated that he'd like to go in; he lasted maybe two more songs, before making it very clear he needed to go. "Are you ALL DONE?" I asked. "Yes!" He said, high and fast. That was good enough for me.

So yeah: Stressful, for everybody--I hate that shit in general; it's not anything I'd ever do for fun, and I was only there for Cal. I could see Mom bristling at my "attitude", too, like it alone was responsible for Cal melting down, when we both damn well knew it was inevitable. (I was also in a fuck of a lot of pain by that time, and she knew it, since I hadn't been able to take my Naprocen before I left that morning. But whatever.) But I'm proud that he never lost all his language, and you could always get a response outof him--man, that's different just since the Science Centre trip. I love it. I love him.

Anyhow, that's the run-down, if anyone was interested (and even if they're not). Now my lips are numb, but they could be number. I think I'll take just a little more, and go to bed.;)