Don’t Fear the Reaper

I’m getting ready for the Global Game Jam.

This post will contain notes for anyone interested in the Digital Audio Workstation Reaper, and it will probably wander into metaphors about how becoming old is cool and you should try it.

However I’m writing it as I install Reaper and try to get it to work, so I’m dispensing with my usual rules about being intelligible on this blog. Perhaps permanently.


My first DAW was this one: .  Performer, on the Macintosh, made by Mark of the Unicorn. Yep, that spells MOTU.

Most lately, I have tried to install the ProTools 10 software that I inherited from my daughter, but while researching solutions the many, many installation errors that ProTools inflicted on my VR computer, I discovered an enticing feater found in another DAW–Reaper ( It has a reasonable solution for ambisonics in VR.

Installed easily. But just as every single everlovin’ DAW I have ever attempted to install has done, Reaper is making me jump through hoops before I can use it.  So far not many, though.

This one is the “Scanning DirectX FX…” hang.

Hurray–the Ambisonic plugin is not a DirectX plugin:

Therefore, I choose this solution: Disable DirectX plugins:

Ctrl-Alt-Delete to force-quit Reaper; restart Reaper; options menu/preferences/ select ReWire/DX tab, DX plugins off, Disable DX plugins Scanning.




Note to self: If I ever do need a DX plugin, see Reddit:






The Blog for Language

As language is my second language, I find I must practice daily, or revert to thinking in images and impressions, spaces, speeds, weights and vibrations once again.

Not that I should shun this method of thinking; but the eloquence of words takes you to places that those measures of reality don’t. And words augments those.

And, the other humans seem to like words.

May this space help me to keep to the words.


By the way– is for the other stuff.

Setting up Resonois

The world’s dirty laundry seems to be coming out in the wash, so perhaps I don’t have to spend so much time paying attention to politics and world affairs, and perhaps I can concentrate on my own.

Setting up Resonois….

Waiting for Comic-Con tickets

Preview night sold out.

Thor and Edna Mode already quoted.

Did I mention that my first Comic-Con was in 1978?

I’ve done two art shows at Comic-Con. The staff is fantastic.  However I’ve experienced sufficient autism-related anxiety at art shows that I will need something added to the process before I register for another show.  Maybe Cannabis oil. Some in the autism mailing lists I follow have reported good results.

Boeing and SpaceX race to Mars. Spectacular development. Perhaps I will wear my SpaceX Dragon T-shirt to Comic-Con, if I get tickets. My father worked with Boeing, but I think he would be on the SpaceX team as well.

Got the shirt from my visit to Kennedy Space Center last week.  Spent most of the time at the spectacularly-engineered playground equipment with savant-ish autistic grandson.

If you visit the KSC, be aware that perimeter defense is manned by alligators.

Saturday sold out.

Had I attended Comic-Con last year I could have gotten tickets in the early registration, but savantish-autistic grandson-sitting is a full-time and unpredictable job, currently carrying a higher priority.

This is the time of year I usually plan for the new year. Some people make New Year’s resolutions on the way to the New Year’s Eve party and then abandon them two weeks later.  I usually try out the resolution in December, to see if it’s maintainable with the life I’m living at that time.  So yes, I beta test my resolutions.  Last year it was to get an executive functioning assistant. Let’s say I learned a lot from that one, and I can apply what I learn in 2018.

The test during this time in the Comic-Con waiting room develops the thousand-words resolution I’ve done for years, except in 2018 I would be writing in public.

At its very base, writing 1000 words, any words, exercises the verbal center of my brain. With my kind of autistic, language is my second language. So even though I was an English major, if I don’t exercise the verbal center, words fade.

So does WordPress keep a running word count? Checking…Will install when I am not glued to the Comic-Con page.

Comic-Con memories: Getting a Croods signed poster from Chris Sanders. Helping to run a booth. Getting CURSED PIRATE GIRL. Seeing my daughter’s expression change when I explained to her that she just got an autograph from Yoshitaka Amano, and yes, she is familiar with Yoshitaka Amano’s work.

You may wonder why I haven’t gotten a professional membership to Comic-Con. So do I. Perhaps if I write these words every day on this blog during 2018, we will both discover why.

Thursday’s running low.  You know, I tell myself, I could easily pull some strings with old acquaintances and get a badge.  Yet I’m sitting here, watching Thursday badges sell out.  Reminding self to write about that.

The truth is, I will actually be glad when Sunday badges sell out. This is because executive functioning issues and anxiety currently make large events excruciating. If I actually wrote about that on WordPress, would it make a difference?  Public posting and cannabis oil are sounding more attractive.

The Comic-Con green room done as Ten Forward.  My daughter tripping over a curb when her very favorite voice actor walked by.  Playing Pokemon Go behind the convention center, with about fifty other Comic-Con attendees. Learning to draw in an Alan Lee presentation. Comic Book Law School. Dreamworks Dragons.

That first Comic-Con, it was sitting in a room with about fifty other people watching Stan Lee draw his new character, Iron Man.  You don’t draw Iron man artsy, with bubbles around his head. You draw him with dramatic lines.

All Comic-Con tickets are sold out.  Phew. That’s a relief.








September 8, 2017

Today I’m putting up an art display over on the site, so Dr. Kathie Allen’s people can show it to those supporting her for congressional election to Utah’s Third District.  I was in the audience at the Jason Chaffetz roasting last February, and therefore have strong feelings about who should take his place in Congress.

Trying not to let Hurricane Irma distract me during today’s work.  I know it’s about to ruin many lives, including those of a certain family I keep nagging to evacuate, dammit.  However as a fractal artist, I find it mesmerizing. Dangerous beauty.

All right, snap out of it. Back to work.

Online Consistency

I have been locked out of my main web site.  This, I’m sure, is entirely my fault; these things happen because I haven’t been tending to my online self with any consistency.

I had planned to delegate this scheduling to an assistant. No assistant seems to be forthcoming, and so I need to figure out how to do this dependably in the interim.

July 21, 2017

Sleep deprived.

The first Comic-Con in about a decade where I don’t have a ticket. I’m in the area, but not going to Comic-Con proper. Maybe a few para-con events.

I’ve been trying to take care of family members and resolve family issues for much of the past several months. Being autistic, these interpersonal things require me to spend much more brain chemicals, emotional resources and physical effort than would a neurotypical human. And I end up having not much to show for it, and not much accomplished, if you compare what I’ve done to what a neurotypical human would do given the same resources. So I don’t. At least I try not to. Because that’s not fair to myself.

Melva Gifford, a long time writer friend, invited me to spend several writerly days at a condo in Saint George, Utah. I appreciated that. I especially appreciated their efforts at accommodating what I needed to do to get this strange brain of mine to output. I can appear neurotic and unfriendly if you don’t know what’s going on–the sensory disorders, the fast burn on the resources whenever I attempt to “appear human,” as Linguine in “Ratatouille” put it. Melva and (the other) Carolyn took it in stride, and I was able to make headway on that excruciating Cavern chapter that’s had me gridlocked for a while. And fractals.

So this weekend I have to cope with the realization that no, I’m not going into the San Diego Convention Center, and yes, I’m working on really difficult family issues again (sorry peeps, confidential–you’ll just have to trust me)

And hey, look at all the words, and on three hours of sleep. Again. Maybe that’s the key to the vault which holds my verbal center–be so exhausted that all the idea bits and detail bits and connected bits mash up like pasta dough and start extruding out of the vault’s keyhole.

Just a thought.

Elon Musk’s Tunnels


Well of course Mr. Musk has to drill tunnels. That’s the best way of keeping a million Mars colonists marinating in the oxygen they need–build tunnel, seal tunnel, add atmosphere.

NIH Questionnaire

I’ve signed up with NIH and with UCSD to be a crash-test guinea pig for their autism studies. I’ve been paid richly to do this–not in the few dollars cash which they give me but in the insights I receive. These insights may or may not be accurate deductions of what they are testing for. I could be making them up completely. Doesn’t matter. They’re valuable.

Yesterday NIH called with a questionnaire about sensory processing, one which I have answered on paper at least three times now.

The upshot, in case I get interrupted or fall asleep at the keyboard, is that I think I was being tested to see if autism gives me an immunity to being influenced by social opinion–say, those of “Trump’s Willing Executioners”. I’m pretty sure it does.


I think I have to allow myself to be scattershot. If I attempt to work under someone else’s regime, someone else’s idea of what productivity is, then my brain clenches up and I can’t get back to it.

Wha’d I miss?

I haven’t been able to maintain a sustained presence on the Internet for the past couple of years because the Internet hasn’t made sense.  Mind you, I was one of the first people ON the Internet, grabbing free Mac Plus programs off of the campus connection way back in 1985, and reading sexy.bald.captains Usenet groups.  But until this spring, it’s been just wrong.

Now, it’s right again, so maybe I can persuade myself to venture back on.

The Internet itself hasn’t been wrong–the people using the Internet, though… To be fair, I’m autistic and people are hard. But this was too weird, even for the Brownian motion of humans that I’ve come to understand.

Now I get it though.  It wasn’t people on the Internet. It was trolls.  Millions of paid posts waging war.

Trolls I get. I get where all this has come from, and I can predict where it’s going again, and so I’m coming back on and wish me luck.

I’d like to thank Louise Mensch & friends, the Resistance people, some really smart geeks in my family, Lareena Goertz, and a bunch of other people who acted as touchstones to help me figure this out.

Also the Greek Choir of coyotes partying a block up the street, making the evening worthwhile.