Illustration by author. Urban landscape of graffitti on cement wall. Hand-scrawled sign to the left reads, "AUTISTICAF OUT LOUD. ONE VOICE. RAW. REAL. FIERCELY NEURODIVERGENT. A blurred, moving human figure in a black hoodie and white sneakers exists right into darkness. Digital tools included Krita and AI.

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That Halloween, the masks came off. From Johnny Profane Âû’s forthcoming autobiography, Autistic Noir.

That Halloween This Autistic Dropped His Masks… One by One

Halloween. Berkeley. 1979. Masks cover every face I see. Including mine. Only mine are starting to crack. And a Rocky Horror crowd feels like home. A raw fragment about autistic unmasking, from my autobiography Autistic Noir.

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Stylized, tightly cropped and fragmented portrait of author Johnny Profane Âû for the forthcoming book Autistic Noir. The fractured presentation evokes the tension between inner identity and how others perceive an autistic person, connecting the portrait to themes of masking, visibility, and being only partly understood.

Not Everyone Was My Friend in My Autistic Life

I thought everyone was a potential friend. Every adult, someone to turn to for protection. It took me years to begin understanding my father’s betrayal. At 73, I still carry that sexual assault. This is part of my autistic life.

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Autistic Me, Theo, School… and Genius, Pt 2

You’re not broken. The System is. You already know that. Here’s one autistic life giving it words… Follow my raw journey from crushing middle-school trauma to the explosive joy of self-guided learning. The education machine missed my genius. Maybe it missed yours, too.

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Cover graphic for “Autistic Noir: “Maybe Genius Lies Elsewhere”: Autistic Me, Theo & School, Pt 1” Black background with gray and red text above a fragmented black-and-white close-up of a person’s eyes beneath a hat brim; “Frag from the Raw Autobiography” appears at the bottom.

“Maybe Genius Lies Elsewhere”: Autistic Me, Theo & School, Pt 1

A haiku got me branded a cheat. A homeless psych-dropout named Theo got me branded… maybe genius. Autistic, ADHD, and done trusting school to measure either. Frag 10 of my raw autobiography asks: what if genius never lived in a classroom at all?

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