Mediocre White Guy
Bix is a twenty-two-year resident of the Portland of Oregon born forty-nine years ago in rural upstate New York. He is straight, white, middle-aged, male, and therefore now largely irrelevant. He believes this is perfectly fine and discloses it only as context for you to judge anything else he might have to say.
He combines autism and various co-morbid diagnoses secondary to it with introversion and a fairly devout agnosticism. Believing people are capable of better and too often being proved wrong, he views cynicism as frustrated optimism and believes this is why the small, every day courtesies matter.
Once, many years ago, he was a slow dog, with his see-through skin. The kind of skin you can see through.
He neither bikes nor dances nor dates nor drives nor drugs nor sexes nor swims. He does, very rarely, drink. Since the death of his father, he no longer smokes. He still has most, but most assuredly not all, of his teeth; ask him about his fetching dental appliance, although he doesn’t bother with it.
If the events of one’s life were pictures and the emotions were sounds, his memories would play as silent movies.
Rolling Stone emphasized his “long black eyelashes” and “face that sees very little sun” while deeming him “a kid from upstate New York with a quick wit”. A public relations professional said he was a “sissy”. Bruce Sterling referred to him as a “punk”. Joss Whedon technically might have described him as “twitchy, unreliable-looking”.
As a child, he drew pictures of wanting to be an outer space moving van driver. As a middle-aged adult, he is not one.
By the Oxford English Dictionary definition of “slack” as the length of time in critical path analysis by which a particular event can be delayed without delaying the completion of the overall objective, he considers himself a slacker. He has yet to determine the overall objective.
For seventeen years he had a second-hand cat named Scully; he now has two shelter cats, Meru and Willow.
His decades of passing accomplishments include a pioneering internet petition against government censorship; a worthwhile cybercafe failure; an active presence in the early blogosphere; several years of celebrated stand-alone journalism; the founding of a successful annual fan-based fundraising campaign; the moderate creative success of a three-year photography hobby; management of video contest submissions for the home video release of a trailblazing web series; the publishing of his late father’s novels; and surviving many years in the wilds of various movie and television fandoms.
Until recently, he was project manager for The Belmont Goats, Portland’s nonprofit resident herd, offering an oasis of rural community amidst the built, urban environment, until even this thing that mattered to him proved too much to bear.
He strongly suggests helping to bring both equality and mercy to a world forever in too much need of them.
Living in St. Johns, Oregon,
since November 2018.
Turning fifty in October,
then it's up to fate.
Addressing urologic issues,
diagnosing lymph issues,
waiting on fatigue issues.
Seeking ASD-capable therapist
covered by my insurance.