So amid the chaos of my night table I found some book on Asperger's I didn't even remember I had (I find lots of books I barely remember buying--when I read American Splendor I completely understand the craziness of the desire to possess EVERYTHING, except I don't want to be trading anything with anyone--my collecting isn't focused enough). It's night and I just know it will depress me. The last graf on the back jacket says "While written primarily for professionals, the volume will also be of interest to many parents." That means they don't bother coming up with anything quantifiable or cookbook-like for parents, and they don't bother being encouraging (the title should be a big clue: it's Learning and Behavior Problems in ASPERGER SYNDROME, the last in giant letters). I should put it away: Bryna Segal, may her name and memory be erased,* made me so depressed that I immediately turned tail and headed for denial, albeit briefly. And yet. I always found the line between clear-eyed realism and masochism rather indistinct.

*author of awful book on autism. I don't want anyone looking it up and buying it, so I'm not going to bother including the name. It. Sucks.