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a holiday poem.

Intended to be a light-hearted poem and not disrespectful!

On a good day I know, I'm not the full ticket; on a bad day I don't know my arse from my elbow. So I've been told, and so it is written; it must be true. I've learnt to live with it after a fashion, and I can tie my own shoelaces and count to ten, but for the sake of my head I stay off the maindrag. I was on a downward curve about then anyway, drifting like litter down side streets and alleyways, slipping into the empty, unused spaces, the long-untouched deserted houses; cracks in the city, cracks in between. London was a scary place for me.

Armies spend endless hours training people to follow orders without question. It's an essential quality in a soldier. In everyday life, however, things don't work that way. Business, political, and civic leaders have learned that ordinary people will perform exceptional tasks when they are asked-not ordered-to do so. Even when you are managing other people, you will achieve far more if you convert every order to a request. Introductory phrases such as, "Would you mind . . ." or "Could I ask your assistance in . . ." or the always effective "Please . . ." will ensure success far more often than intimidating those who work for you. And when you need help from those whose paychecks you do not control, you will find them far more responsive to requests than to orders.

He pins me with his stare. An urgent message on his cork board.

I'm on the shore.

Don't mention your ex; any of them, Or she'll make you wish you never did.

I'm getting ready to leave for Thailand in a few days. I'll be teaching English at a university there, in a city known for Buddhist temples. I've been suffering from anxiety and depression, to the point that I often freeze up in crucial situations or occasionally even sabotage my own projects. Nonetheless, my recent life has been blessed with many small joys. Yesterday, I took a walk in Lithia Park, which is always beautiful during the Fall. There, I saw a smallish tree that was positively awash in fire-orange leaves.

I know what you're thinking... How can you have an entire story based on two men adjusting their ties? Well read on, Doubting Thomasses!