Hi, I'm Faye. "Kane" is not my real last name. It's too close for comfort though, but too late to change.
I'm autistic, which means I don't know WTF is going on around me, exactly like the grinning retard in the bus. Only I never grin. Or smile. All of this is really, really bad it seems, and I have to keep away from humans.
I can understand anything though, literally. At least, so far. Math and physics in particular, but probably only because they're interesting. I can only understand interesting stuff. I used to wonder why the other kids pretended to be so stupid, then in 6th grade, to my horror I realized they weren't joking.
Once I was surprised that I was having a normal conversation with the guys in marketing, in the hall at work and I thought “wow, this isn't so hard!” But later the secretary told me “Faith, they're not laughing WITH you, they're laughing AT you. And she seemed sad about it.” So I shut up again.
I was a systems programmer in assembler and at the nuc place, I programmed a gamma-ray spectrometer that tells what kinds of radioactive stuff was in the rusty barrels the Mafia threw in the Hudson river instead of disposing of them legally. All grownups are the Mafia, really. They all steal stuff and tell lies like they can't control it.
And I designed gizmos for a reactor, too. One of them monitors damage to stainless steel crystal lattice when neutrons slam into them. I won three awards for all that stuff but I threw them in the trash. Do normal people really want those? WHY???
I was the valedictorian of the computer science department at a very large university ranked third nationally in CS. I threw that certificate in the trash too, outside the dean's office because I was mad that it didn't come with McDonald’s coupons or at least something worth something.
I'm (supposedly) an autistic-savant — a rare female one, too. At least, that's what the psychometrician told me at the mental hospital when I was committed there in 2001 after I tried something that it turns out I lo♥e.
"Autistic" means I can't correctly perceive emotions in other people, which means I'm vulnerable to being lied to and manipulated, particularly at work. Bad people blame me for their own mistakes and I don't even know it until it is too late.
BTW, "Savant" only means "Real Smart" combined with "genetic mutant."
My main interest is the 4-dimensional interval metric equation of SR and what it implies about spacetime. I discovered non-Euclidean geometry when I was 12, but didn't know it was called that until college. And came up with the right answers about things I wondered about. But I didn't know they were right until reading a book on special relativity.
I also discovered (the rudiments of) calculus about then. I was ignoring the teacher and thinking about how interesting it is that a bell curve describes how an S-curve changes. I didn't know that relation had a name either, or that it was a “subject” you could read about. To me, it was just always interesting how shapes fit together. After that, the more I thought about it, the more cool stuff there was that turned out HAD to be true. I also realized some stuff about what turned out to be differential topology, and once again, never knew anyone else had ever thought about it, much less that anyone else ever thought it was interesting. The other kids certainly didn't.
Note that none of the above implies that I'm a "grownup." I got fired from all my jobs except the last one, and always while they told me something like “...but your work is good, Faye. In fact, it's fantastic! It's just that, well.. you understand...”
No I DON'T understand. I never understood, and I gave up trying to in 2001.
The psychometrician didn't tell me this, but I'm certain that I'm neurologically unable to hate. Or feel jealousy or revenge or rage. Probably other emotions too. You may think this is a blessing, but it's not, really. You see, I can't feel love either. That is also a blessing however, at least to me when I see how much it hurts other people. Don't get me wrong, I love my kitty-cat. At least, before he died. Then I felt unendurable grief. I can feel that, too, unfortunately. Although, I wouldn't want to not feel sad when a kitty dies.
I also love humanity, and all life, really. In fact, I think I have "cancer of the empathy". And when I discovered sex in 2001, I loved it sex so much that it's what got me committed to a mental hospital, but I only like it when it's impersonal with a stranger (preferably when I'm gagged and blindfolded and tied down and hurt). I can't love another person in a romantic way, and I can't even imagine what that would be like. That has made some people very sad.
What I want to know is, why does everyone seem to hate me? For that matter, why are people so evil when they could just as easily be good and if everyone was good, everyone would be happier?
Well, besides the obvious game-theoretic answer, my best-guess analysis is: apparently there's something about me--childishness, naivete, trust, vulnerability, enthusiasm, excitement about sex, or something else that people have crushed in themselves because it allowed them to be hurt and back-stabbed by people they loved and trusted.
I call this "the death of love." And by love, I mean empathy and compassion. I also mean undying nothing-held-back romantic love too. Grownups seem to have shittified that, too, but it's impossible for me to know because I can't feel that.
I think that when they see the way I am, it reminds them of what they were and how beautiful it was and how much the sadness hurt when they abandoned it. And since sadness and anger are really both the same emotion expressed differently, they get angry and want to kill love in other people. If they don't infect others with sadness, then they have to feel it themselves-- the horrible sadness of being forced to abandon the only thing that's really important. Something wonderful that they once felt but think that now they can never feel it again.
That's how (metaphorically) Satan gets people to do his bidding. A trusting kid is horriblized by one or more monsters they trusted. That makes them real, real sad, and one part of this is that they see no hope--"This is how the world is". You can call this "growing up", but it's just Satan killing the joyous child in you. Still, everyone calls it "growing up" and they say I've refused to do it.
Umm, I don't know HOW to do it. I'm autistic. Plus, I don't want to. I HAVE refused to become cold and uncaring and hurtful and evil, which is the defining difference between real people and grownups. Read J.M. Barrie's The Little White Bird. It's a story for adults, but when that insightful book didn't sell, he changed it to be for kids, added a flying boy and pirates, and renamed it Peter Pan. Wendy was much more prominent before the rewrite. You can still see a remnant of the original in Peter Pan, when Tink comes home drunk from an orgy. Yes, that's really there in Peter Pan. Disney left it out and almost no one but me has actually read the book.
I sure as hell did, though! It was all about the difference between real people and grownups. The tic-toc crocodile was Death. Tic-toc means time (your life) is passing. Captain Hook was “grownups,” and the only thing he feared was the crocodile (death).
ANYWAY, back to the so-called “real” world, though ontologically, it's a lot less real than mathematics:
After abandoning love, the second phase of the sickness called “grownups” sets in. To adapt to their environment full of monsters, and because no one else seems to resist it either, they become a monster themselves. They see that it gives them power in most situations, so it snowballs. Norbert Weinberg would say that it's a negative-feedback dynamic which the infected see as a positive-feedback one. That's the inversion of perception that the sickness makes you have. Evil becomes "good"; and "good" becomes being childish, naive, or a sucker.
Grownups are cold. Uncaring. Hurtful. Sadistic (but not sexually. They're sadistic In the BAD way).
In short, hurt people become evil. Apparently I'm immune to that, too. Why would you want too become something you hate?But every little kid does.
I think this happens mostly in adolescents and mostly in males. But it can happen to anybody. It even happens in little kids, if they're hurt enough. Then they become bullies at school, or turn into teenage murderers in the nightmare of a ghetto.
When sick people deliberately make other people sad, that's how the infection is spread. I call it "the sickness." When I metaphorically call it "Satan", I picture a devil with horns crushing the skulls of terrified little kids with it's chicken-feet talons and using the crushed heads as stepping stones to march down the river of time, leaving a wake of horror, destruction, and grief.
And divorces and abused children and burned-out cities and death.
And homeless people... like me.
The sickness seems to be uncurable, which is extra reason not to become infected. Again, I seem to be immune to it—possibly because the part of the brain necessary to be what I call "ego-shitty" don't function in me.
But in 2001, right after the experience in my book, I finally couldn't stand it anymore and abandoned so-called "humanity." I have lived in the woods for 3 years. Behind a parking garage, and protected by a barbed-wire fence, I half-buried a tent in what looks (appropriately) like a bomb crater, and I covered it with layers of plastic and blankets. Then I hacked into the power grid. You can drop 250V to 125 without a transformer if you're a Jedi of Understanding Stuff.
I also hacked into the internet via someone's wireless router, but I since got legit wireless broadband. I have a hot plate where I make cheese fondue with white wine, Kirsch, $12-a-pound Gruyere, and real French bread from the French bakery in Annandale. Money goes a long way when food and net access is all you ever have to buy. Since Mister kitty died, I talk to Mister Bear (a small teddy bear). Unfortunately, I CAN feel grief.
I also have my dorm fridge, a space heater I never need, A/C I need even in winter because this place is so damn-well insulated, a shortwave and other strange radios, and a very fast computer. It has thermoelectric cooling I designed and built myself. It does 5GHz, easy.
Decorated year-round with festive colored Christmas lights, my cave is like a cozy Apollo capsule packed with technology, buried in dirt and sticks and leaves and topped off with a delicious chocolate coating of bird and squirrel crap.
I can hear them scurrying around on top of it, and that's one of the things that makes living in my homeless cave so wonderful.
Yeah, yeah, you don't believe it. I don't care, but here's a pic: http://lh3.ggpht.com/-MCCyn6OhXxI/USn8kk9BqqI/AAAAAAAAUj8/MSgi2rET4IQ/s640/myhouse2.jpg
This is me in it (NSFW): http://lh3.ggpht.com/_u6S9S2NbEx8/TIYH8vJLL0I/AAAAAAAAAWg/a4ofx_ziZg8/s640/meinmycave.jpg
More pix of my cave are on my blog ( http://tintyurl.com/kanecave ) and lotsa naked pix of me, too. Also, two phone cam vids of me giving a guided tour of my cave, inside and out. Somewhere on my blog is a vid of me tied up and being fucked, but I don't know the URL and I've posted 8,000+ entries in the past 9 years (if you include myspace).
And two of my readers have fucked me. I suppose you can too, if you can find me. But please just rape me, preferably brutally, then leave. I do NOT like talking to people!
See? The rumors are true; there really ARE crazy people on the internet!
Faye Kane ♀ homeless brain
Sexiest homeless astrophysicist you'll ever see naked
Where to find Faye Kane online
Nonconsensual Sex Slave: I wanted to experience it like the kidnapped girls in the true-crime books
(3.50 from 2 reviews)
In 2001, I told the men to strip me naked, tie me down, and torture me nonstop for days. Slap my face until your hand is wet with my tears, whip both of my openings HARD, push pins in my breasts while I cry, burn me with cigs while I scream. When I plead and beg through my sobs to stop, do it harder and angrier. Rape me anally and deep, and cum in my guts. === They did all those things, and more.
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