Post-It Note - Social Update

Students,

As January ends and the long cold winter months continue (or hot and sticky and sweat-inducing months as my case may be) I feel it apt to briefly detail my comings and goings in/around the year so far with a mini(ish!) post. You will see I am labeling these as ‘Post-It Note’s’. They should hopefully go some way to satisfy your urges for Teacher’s (pillow) talk in-between usual posts and also satisfy (read: ward-off) potential psycho-stalkers. Because we don’t need anymore of them, do we? Seems I already find myself unwittingly placed in the crosshairs whenever I venture into Lopburi with my irresistible foreign companions… but that’s another matter for another blog. What I’m really saying is come here often dear students for you will find regular stimulation on this page.

· Working 9 to 5 (what a way to make a living.) All’s (s)well with my university teaching as the semester rushes to its end. No sooner had Christmas and New Year been and gone than Chinese New Year and the final exams are almost upon us. I teach six English major subjects at the local university in Reading, Writing, Creative Writing, Speaking, Hotel English, and Human Behaviour and Self-Development (read: psychology.) I enjoy the teaching immensely and the students are excellent at English (two girls are even attempting to teach me Thai!) but there is an odd paradigm when compared with my previous work teaching younger kids. Where with that I was doing conversational English to classes of 40+ five times a day and so leaving exhausted after using A LOT of energy for classroom teaching, at the university I have smaller classes but the lessons must be more involved and carefully structured in order to work. I spend A LOT of time in preparation for each two and a half hour class of the six majors. Then I have to mark homework. The teaching is the easy bit. There was an opportunity on the horizon for next semester beginning June that could have taken me back to my former school. If they decide on an agreeable salary for me I may be back there with the kids and old cronies again. If the money is right. Some might call this selling out; I call it working one’s way up to be the top. And that’s always my preferred position. As ever I will keep you posted.
· Settling down. It is almost official: Brad and I are moving in together along with Natalie. We haven’t named the date yet but house-hunting is beginning this Saturday. My (unofficial) husband and I have been living in sin for a little while now and sinners do need to stick together. Sadly in Thailand we cannot leaf through the housing pages to find the perfect shack to shack up in so we must accompany a Thai teacher around the town in search of our manse… We plan to do this while decorated in white khakis/leather trousers, pink berets, and pullovers draped over the shoulders or tied loosely around the waist. To this end we have also been practicing our flouncing and over-enthusiastic hand gesturing. It has already been decided that ‘The Pleasuredome’ (as Natalie calls it) will require a garden/yard/balcony, a guest room/sauna room/back room, a collection of kitsch dog statues, and adequate security (intercom/moat/razor wire) to deter the increasingly ardent psycho-stalkers that, as mentioned earlier, our group tends to inspire (“I love pig.”)
· The case of the ‘Single White Female.’ Unfortunately I find it my duty to make a public service announcement. The bizarrely aggressive behaviour of several Thai males appears to have rubbed off on one of ‘us.’ Said lady has taken to attempts to hoard to herself any gay men (well, let’s face it any men) that she comes into contact with. ‘Single White Female’ will attack with questions on the whereabouts of her prey and demand to know why they did not first think to call and inform her if they were I dunno, venturing to the loo or some such activity… The slightly shall we say ‘unimpressed’ undercurrent of tone to this note is owing to her perpetrating a quite unforgivable transgression on your innocent Teacher: only marginally worse than ‘cock-teasing’ is ‘cock-blocking.’ Allow me to explain. On a recent visit to her workplace Teacher was struck by an attractive Thai gent of similar persuasion to he. In accordance, flirty banter was exchanged before ‘SWF’ unceremoniously (and quite deliberately) lodged her butt and her breasts in the way so that the pretty gay men would be kept safely as her own. It is in the interests of local health and wellbeing that – like a volatile chemical – ‘SWF’ be handled very carefully and preferably held at a safe distance lest she spontaneously combust (or miraculously mutate and develop a more likeable personality.)
· Out and about. In the aforementioned Human Behaviour and Self-Development (read: psychology) class this week our topic was ‘Sexuality.’ I had been delaying coverage of this particular topic for some time and had even brought forward the class on ‘Christianity’ as avoidance (!). However it could be avoided no longer. So as to initiate a less academic and more personal discussion, I thought it best to ‘out’ myself to the ten girls of the class and then they could get answers on any gay-related questions they had ‘from the horse’s mouth’ so to speak. This ‘outing’ was my first in some time and I think was largely successful, though it must be said that exclamations of “A lie wa?” (English: “What the f*ck?”) were heard from most of the girls for some minutes after my announcement. Among the (invited) questions they asked me were “Teacher, because of God are you going to Hell?”, “Have you ever sexed a ladyboy?”, and “What is a gay king and queen?” This latter question, which I suspect was posed to make me squirm (more) I found could only be answered by pointing the index finger of my right hand, forming a ‘hole’ shape with the thumb and forefinger of my left, and stabbing the ‘king’ into the hole of the ‘queen’. Sometimes I think that for a youth that enjoys so much sex, young Thais seem not to know all that much. For example who didn’t know that Ricky Martin was gay??!! Next week I will be accompanying a group including that same class of students on a field trip to a town in Northern Thailand. I can’t seem to pronounce the name of this town to the Thais approval, much less write it, but I would guess it’s spelling to be something like Loei. Thankfully I have been granted a single hotel room separate from the two gay teachers who seemed so oddly eager to bunk with me, and perhaps the trip will allow my students to properly carry-out the homework from their ‘Sexuality’ class: find Teacher a boyfriend. Kidding… (Half kidding.)
· Hello? Is anybody there? Friends are like bats. Sometimes you see them flying at you and can choose whether to continue and deal with them or duck for cover and hide. Sometimes you only notice them when they smack right into you, attach themselves with their sticky wings, and then have to be forcibly extricated from your person. They also have a tendency to only come out at night, hang upside down, and occasionally, turn nasty and try to suck blood from your jugular. In most cases though they are still around but you don’t hear from them for ages until an outbreak seems to occur and you can’t even go to 7/11 without being plagued by them. Students, the point is that one’s faithful friends appear to have gone into hiding somewhere and it is time to raise my voice to a few notables in order that their sensory hearing might pick me up and get back to me:

Steve – Thank you for your e-mail but tell me more about your theatre world in the ‘burgh.
Rosie – I miss your Grace Adler stylings and long for another night in Soho partying with Matt’s sticky dildo.
Zoé – Sorry I was basically asleep when you called. Nevertheless I find the Supernatural date tremendously exciting and demand to be the first person called on your return from LA.
Ria – I hope you are enjoying London. I hear it's pretty Welsh?
Tamsin – I hope you are not having any ‘mental episode’s’ without your teaching partner at your side. And what are you ‘expecting’?

Comments? Questions? Class you may be excused.

Homework: Catch a falling star and put it in your pocket... Supoib.

x Teacher

Story Post - Second Part 'The Stranger and I'

His touch made me smile knowingly in spite of myself; he saw in me what I saw in him. It would only be a matter of time – and a ride in the lift – before both hands could be everywhere. I breathed out, preparing whatever nonchalant words were going to be the first he’d hear. But…wait. Before I’d finished exhaling I felt something else. An odd shiver was surging through my body. I stared forward into space knowing that something was very wrong. I’d felt this hand before, the same tightening grip and cold palm. I stood up and turned, now knowing what was to come.

Tuk stood before me with an expression that was halfway between friendly and hateful. We had known each other no longer than a month and he still baffled me with his persistence and forthrightness. Why was he here ruining what may have been such a perfect moment? Who was I kidding. As the stranger joined the counter girls to look on with interest, the dream of meeting someone gorgeous and sane had clearly been too much to hope for. Tuk continued to regard me and I knew I’d better speak. “What are you doing?” I ventured quietly. “Go to room.” The statement was not only loud but also clear. All present knew that this boyishly good-looking Thai guy wanted me all to himself. He was wearing the same clothes I’d first seen him in at a bar some time ago. The oversized t-shirt, hanging jeans, and torn trainers had proved to suit him much better off than on for under them was the perfect slim body of a twenty-something Asian. This, along with his preference to forego speaking broken English and let his actions speak for him had once been such a turn-on. Now, his declarations of love and inability to understand that a relationship was out of the question had made him decidedly creepy. He motioned his head that we should go. He meant business.

I couldn’t help but look back at what I’d stupidly thought was a possibility. There was so much more I wanted to know about the stranger, so comfortable in his own skin as he now leant back on the counter. I met his eyes this time feeling no embarrassment; as I’d been so obviously ‘outed’ it hardly mattered. He smiled amusedly to himself then gave a quick wink before he disappeared from view as we rounded the corner and stepped out into the evening heat. Was that meant as the rebuke of a straight man against the girlish melodrama of a couple of ‘fairies’? Was that a knowing wink? I didn’t have anymore time to wonder as Tuk made another grab for my shoulder. This time I angrily shrugged him off, knowing that right now I had to be assertive and definitively end things. I walked him around into a corner of a small garden where I knew we’d be out of sight and away from curious ears.

I wanted to make this as easy as possible. After a minute of stumbling through the little Thai words I knew, and a lot of gesturing to assure him things were over, I believed all was sorted. I was wrong. Tuk looked at first contemplative and then lowered his head as I made to finish speaking. I took a step back ready to leave him and as I did several things seemed to happen at once. Firstly Tuk lunged forward and threw his weight against me. Unprepared, I fell hard onto the grass behind me. In a second he was standing above me and I felt a sharp kick hit my lower back. There was another to my ribs. Another to my elbow. I saw his face contort with rage though he remained quite silent. Where were the hotel security men? When would he stop so I could stand up and defend myself? I didn’t need to answer either question. As quickly as it had started, the beating was over. Tuk had gone. From my position on the ground I turned painfully to see him dash away in the direction of his motorbike. What happened? My body jolted as I felt another hand on my shoulder. My heart racing I squinted to look up towards the moonlight. A newly familiar face was looking down at me, concern showing in the brown eyes that peered through hanging curls of hair.

I hated being so out of control and lying vulnerably in the grass was hardly how I wanted this most masculine of men to see me. I moved to break free of his grasp, pull myself up, and thank him. But instead of releasing his hold or helping, the stranger moved his bulk further over me until I realized his body was coming to rest on top of mine. Did he think I was seriously hurt and he needed to support my back as he rescued me? Was he going to teach the queer a lesson? Somehow I knew it wasn’t either. I lay still unresisting. As the warmth of his skin tingled against my bruises and he rested his weight slowly down on me I could feel him hard, his cock aroused against mine. I struggled to catch my breath and I felt beads of sweat over every part of me. All I could see was him. My vision was filled with that rugged face. He didn’t smile. He didn’t speak. He looked deep into my eyes.

Hidden in the unlit patch of grass to the side of the window where staff had no doubt gathered to look into the night and enjoy the drama with the crazy foreigners, we held each other tight. Our mind’s were as one. Our hands and tongues began to wander…


THE END (MAYBE*)

* 'Maybe' is owing to sad fact that it has been so long since the writer last experienced what may be described in any next part that the memory cannot recall descriptive details for the writing. Please bear with us until this problem is fixed.

Picture Post - 'Gaylienation.'

Students,

Today your esteemed teacher invented a new word: 'gaylienation.' This word combines several others, namely: gay, lie, alien, nation, and alienation. It is coined to describe one's outsider feelings in the world given the propensity for seeing sex all around yet receiving no 'A' for oneself, thus you would be 'gaylienated.'

Please see below some pictures from the world around me (and in my head) that may better explain this delightful new bit of terminology. You will note among these representations: fruit, an underground passage from former employment when goods were more 'plentiful', the 'big bang' of fireworks, a Thai cave entrance, and an image depicting the desperation felt when balloons (read: hope) floats away...

Comments? Questions? Class you may be excused.

Homework: Embrace the queer.

x Teacher

Post VIII - A Bitter Pill. Swallow!!

Students,

Bitter is a word with a few meanings, my favourite being the cool alcoholic beverage I am too geographically far away from to consume. It also has the meaning ‘to leave a bad taste in one’s mouth.’ Unfortunately today that is what Teacher has in his mouth and it is not something I am able to swallow down (though as I’m British I will not spit either.) A warning: you may guess that there is a storm brewing and you’d be right. If you do not wish to spend the next few minutes hearing thinly-veiled attacks on everything and everyone around, you may wish to excuse yourself, pop an apple on my desk, and return later……….. Ok? You choose to stay? Good. I assume that means you enjoy a good bitch-fest as much as any radical lesbian or muff-diving Christian.

I would like to tell you that the world I see around me is full of rainbows, smiling gay faces, and that daily I am up to my elbows in ‘A’. However that unfortunately is not the case. I, like you, have to deal with a range of unpleasant chores of life such as paying bills, marking students work (maybe you don’t have to do that you lucky buggers), and bugging the zoned-out staff in my hotel home to FINALLY do something about properly fixing my internet connection. If any of you can inform me whom I have to shag to sort out that problem then you also will be considered for ‘A’ from me… I am unsure if it is due to my former employer (read: prancing git) passing my evening classes to another teacher whom he considered to be worse off financially so leaving me with more time on my hands and less cash to flash or if I’m simply feeling some January blues. Either way I am sure that my patience is eroded and my frown lines are deepening…

Now I know it’s not in my nature to have a completely worry-free outlook and as my wise mother tells me “Boyo you are intolerant”, but I just wish sometimes that I could be a bit more ‘zen’ than I find myself able to be and not quite so inward thinking… Are you listening Id/Ego/Superego?? I am in the ‘land of smiles’ and at the moment all I do is bitch and get confrontational with those who cross me. I don’t want to look back in a few years and say “Oh Britney was I an obsessive nut job or what?” Thing is I’m sure personal friends wouldn’t suspect I was such a negative person but often when I’m on my own I think negatively and can’t just let things be… And that’s when I start to blog and you lucky students get to listen to my rant!

Sooooooo in an effort to feng shui my subconscious (read: offload), in our blog today I will allow Id/Ego/Superego to each choose one matter to give their two pence on and then said matters shall not be discussed again. (Former yellow-woggled leader of) Scout's honour. Oh and Id has been too vocal lately so he only gets one pence:

Id: Head in bed only this week, honey. No ‘A’. So… No point in beating yourself (too much.) But(t) you gotta get some juice into your (love) machine. Go get into another tight spot and find some thrust for your life. Fill your nights with play and your mornings with lay. Roll in the hay and continue being gay gay GAY!!

Ego: Students by now you should know this mo aint no goodie goodie and he aint no racialist neither. Everyone is equal and everyone (occasionally) deserves short shrift and spankies as much as they deserve praise and tongue-kissing. What I’m going to talk about then is a point concerning simple Thai folks. I do not mean to generalize and I love this country. No offence is intended (Id: “Even from a dyke’s mouth”) and none is taken, but observations must be made.

The Thai way is one where everything must be kept happy and smiley and tradition is very important. Sounds peachy, right? Yes it is until you want to do something but can’t ‘just because.’ The ‘just because’ in question is often that someone high up does not agree with it. Now as much as I love my Queen I do not think she is a deity. She is a human being who must blow her nose, visit the loo, and deal with unpleasant people just as I do. She is not above questioning and I have the right, should I wish, to suggest she is not a good Queen (which I wouldn’t because I like her, Edward on the other hand…) So if I am instructed that I must wear black for 100 days during working hours and stay in and not have a social drink on Saturday night because an 85 year-old woman of royal connection died of natural causes then have I not the right to say “That sir is dumb”? Apparently not or I will be court-martialled (And these minor points are completely the tip of the proverbial iceberg.) What makes it worse is everyone pretending to care when they actually (in Lopburi anyway) ‘couldn’t give a monkeys.’

The Thais usually have a disturbingly casual approach to hearing of death: they shrug off that a teenager was mowed down by a bus but for an 85 year old woman with a privileged life they put up a big show of sorrow. This is all about keeping face socially and never actually saying what’s on your mind. Ever. And it begins to grate. I’ll wear the black (it’s at least preferable to yellow) because this isn’t a question of respect (for which I am happy to oblige); it’s a question of being an individual with a mind that is your own. If Thai people wish to move on and change their country for the better they really should quit thinking others are better than them, quit gossiping quite so much, and form an opinion based on the facts at hand. Doing otherwise is, in my opinion, infantile and counter-productive.

BTW it is never a bad thing when Thai men make me their king… Toodles!

Superego: I gotta try and impose some decency while dealing with a whole lot of wants from brother Id. All his wants can comfortably fit into three categories: men, food, and drink. There is one place to visit to satisfy these and that place is 7/11; a grocery store chain found in every township. Sadly, as the chain is American it is hopelessly stuffed with gross junk food (and its Thai influence means any and all snacks usually contain some kind of fish flavouring.) However these points are not the only downsides as I will explain later.

I go to 7/11 daily for items such as green tea, iced coffee, water, soda water, liquor, ham & cheese toasted sandwiches, noodles, razors, gum, phone credit, and the occasional pack of cigarettes. It’s proximity to the market makes it a perfect place to spot hot Thai guys in their natural habitat. As has been mentioned in a former post, I was also picked-up by a Tarzan look-alike there (FYI I did not allow him to make me his Queen Jane…) so 7/11 is handy all-round. However. Being a convenience store I’m sorry to report that it is often far from convenient.

As you know I swing both ways and am a chap able in dealing with problems of right and wrong. To help improve my mood (and halt Id’s desire for problem-solving through violence) when I next go there to be serviced (pun intended), I have authored the following brief open letter to 7/11. I hope that should they pop by and read this, the Thai operation will make some changes (or make some sackings.) Be a man, give their hides a tan.

From the pen of: Teacher
To: Kind Yanks
Date: I don’t do dates

Dear sirs and madams,

I feel compelled to point out some problems with service in your Thai stores. This is largely to do with customers who clearly feel polite social codes do not apply to them, but also is in part down to employees not being on the ball. Please attend closely the following points for having worked as a retail lackey over several years I know a thing or two. And it will be me who gets others blood on your store’s produce if things don’t change.

· If I am waiting patiently in line with my goods please could your staff not serve the first person who comes dashing in from the street to pay a bill, thus rendering me invisible? Not only does this snap my patience like one might saucily snap a cheeky lover’s knicker elastic, but it also sadly means I will be waiting a whole lot longer since the customer will typically have not just one bill but three or four they have saved to pay together. This of course is easy for them but it makes me want to make things even easier by ensuring they never have to pay another bill again. Instead they can rest in a baseball bat-induced coma after I’ve taken their rudeness to suggest they would like to be rendered a vegetable. Please may your staff assist me in telling these folk the Thai equivalent of “Back. It. Up.” The employee would not be considered rude. They would be providing a humanitarian service.
· I cannot speak fluent Thai and your employees cannot speak fluent English. We are therefore equally matched and must interpret each other through the few words we know of each other’s language. All I ask for are “Sangsom” (liquor of choice), “True Move ha-sib” (phone credit of fifty baht), “Sandwich ham cheese”, and “Tylenol” (drugs required after the headache that oddly seems to hit as soon as I begin queuing.) Since I use the Thai verbal tones and often also point or perform charades to demonstrate what I want, I do not understand the confusion or need for three staff to listen to me repeating myself. Strange that nine year-olds can interpret me but educated adults cannot. The only thing I can think is that I am seen in the queue and it’s then decided as I’m a foreigner I cannot be understood. Believe me I have been there: I used to serve drunk Glaswegians for a living. There is no more impenetrable accent particularly with the accompaniment of alcohol (and some also hate the English) but I persevered, and never once got my face broken. Should your employees continue to serve me with their brains switched off they may not be so lucky.
· I am not a person who especially cares what others think but I do care when I am talked about in plain sight. Staff know I have been here a while and so should also know that I know the meaning of the word “farang” (English: foreigner.) Y’know? I expect to hear this every time I walk past some gossipy fishwives on the street but I do not expect or wish to hear it as employees pass comment on me while I wait in the queue (particularly after I deliberately smiled and greeted them when I first walked in.) Yes, I have been seen inebriated in the store with Social Director on more than one occasion. Yes on one such occasion I made a loud pronouncement when asked about a certain bodily organ. There is lots of gossip fodder but could everyone just do it when I am leaving or at the back of the store trying to locate the one brand of noodles out of twenty varieties that does not contain either prawn or shrimp??

Thanking you Americans in anticipation of your kind support.

Teacher.

Ps. I like Obama now.


So you see students, everything can be sorted if you just take the time to put things right. And also know that you are always right. Should you feel offended by my rant then please avoid me anytime I really have a 'bee in my bonnet.' I hope precious ones you are not offended and know me well enough to percieve that I usually am as sweet as a smurf dipped in chocolate and rolled around in sprinklings before being dressed in a pink tutu.

Comments? Questions? Class you may be excused.

No homework today: I’m not marking more.


x Teacher

Story Post – First Part 'The Stranger and I'

He was older than me, that’s what I noticed first, probably not too far into his late twenties, but enough that the creases in his tanned face were starting to frame the eyes and disturb the smoothness of his forehead. Not that it didn’t suit him; his relaxed rugged expression showed little sign of worry or the impatience usually found on arriving after travel to find staff so ill-prepared. If anything he seemed as though he shrugged off mundane troubles like he flicked away his cigarette ash. His dreamily casual air had caught the attention of all present and as he turned to check his reflection in the wall mirror yet more curious staff hurried into the lobby to see for themselves the night visitor who had journeyed so far. They joined me in surveying his broad chest and solid shoulders under a creased black Gap t-shirt. They held back as he turned from his bags and the counter. I instinctively checked my wristwatch before peering hesitantly again.

This man was light of step but in a very masculine way and I wondered if he might play some kind of field sport. As he turned to the mirror I regarded his firm buttocks, no doubt held in place by some tight white CK’s. He lifted up a hairy arm and wiped a bead of perspiration from his brow. He did this with an easy movement so the sweat caught his muscled forearm and his wide palm brushed over the skin. If he’d had a bottle of water to drench his messy curls it’d perfectly complete the sportsman look, him languidly rinsing the dirt from his skin. When he moved his free hand to pat down some wayward dark hair I saw him smile amusedly to himself, and his eyes squinted slightly as he did so. As he regarded his face just a little bit closer he buried his hands in the pockets of his faded Levi’s, stood back on his heels for a moment, then whirled around to face me.

For just a second his fox-like brown eyes met mine and a second later mine were pressing hard into the wood of the computer desk. I breathed out and closed my eyes embarrassedly. It was force of habit for me to notice attractive guys, and more so for me to survey their chests, their arms, but especially their buttocks. I could appreciate the looks of many but this guy had made me look much closer. I had been enjoying the view and had stared unguardedly. I hated nothing more than social embarrassment and he must have seen me staring like some schoolgirl.

I dejectedly opened my eyes, cursing myself, but dared to look back up. What was it that now caused the counter girls to giggle so unashamedly? I listened for his voice; he was probably flirting without even trying. I drew my gaze up to see the window straight ahead and I tried to make out the reflected scene behind me. It was then that I felt a warm hand heavy on my right shoulder…


TO BE CONTINUED

Post-It Note - The Talented Mr. Craig

Students, I won't keep you a moment...

It seems I am about to advertise again, but this mini post is heartfelt. You see I have long been an admirer of Daniel Craig. I would go so far as to say that I believe him the epitome of English masculinity and style in the noughties. He is one hell of a good actor and one hell of a good James Bond. He is also one hell of a good-looking man. Enough hell's for you?

Now that the title of Bond film 22 has been revealed today as Quantum of Solace I take the opportunity to say "Mr. Craig I salute you sir."

Comments? Questions? Class you may be excused.

Homework: Join me in stroking Mr. Craig's ego. And other things should our paths ever cross and he allow it (kidding... a little.)

x Teacher

Post VII - You won’t ever want to come / go back

Students,

Advertising is something I would never usually do (even though Ego doesn’t mind self-advertisement now and again) but after mine and the gang’s sojourn last weekend to a sleepy (read: comatose) corner of the Thai countryside I feel I really must allow our hosts the opportunity to sell what is available for the foreign tourists the village hopes to attract:
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Come farang enjoy see old Thairand… Thai style Thai style!!!

You see things NEVER see before:

- The dam of water. Put your head through giant sunflower for photo – nice!
- Ancient pots and pans from forest people of 10,000 years ago (according to Japanese…)
- A forest with swamp where water comes from underground and there are many trees. Look Pollyanna! That one is green. That one is big… Take photo!
- See exotic fruits and vegetables. Look! A lime.
- Take a tour around village in car of tractor. 1mph speed. See amazing sights. Look! The dam. The sun. A field. A cow in the field. Smile for photos!
- Wake up early for go feed monks. Don’t look. Don’t speak. Don’t touch. You no wake up? The fairy comes to wake you anyway. Give him a banana! And he has a girlfriend, you know? Hahahahahaha shriek.
- Eat dinner on floor. Green curry - Thai style! Sticky rice – Thai style!! Move and talk to everyone, they Engrish learn. And fairy says speak Engrish on microphone.. is “f*cking c*nt” Engrish, teacher? We take photo and video you.
- Eat girls. They come. See you. Take photo! And see dancing girls. The music of xylophone and music of wail. You NEVER see Thai style before! I love you.
- Go bed same village Saturday night 8.01pm. Bad dogs guard you sleep.
- Sleep on wood table in Thai style RESORT house (read: shed), yes? No puking. Mind the sign.
- We give you form to fill. Take everywhere for essay write. Then take photos. Then go see monkeys.. NEVER see before! Take photos! (No wear flowers.)

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Id: No honey for honey. Or even money. Rest for wicked this weekend. Husband only one getting ‘A’. Go swimming in it! (But not in the country.)

Ego: Be British! Stiff upper lip only thing stiff in country. Unless you count scared stiff. Or stiff back from ‘bed.’ Or stiff smile. Village full of stiffs.

Superego: In the country I only wanted to go one way: home. Save it for old folks / hippy skanks / God botherers (“Ooh we can conver.. sorry, tell them about the Lord”) / swotty Japanese photo fetishists. Oh and be a man Chinese man: come out of the closet it’s nice out here and you playing straight must be such hard work.

Now before you go, let me be serious for a moment and say that the planning of the trip described was very hard work for the Thai locals and for that I am appreciative and mean no disrespect. As ever a little light ribbing is not uncalled for. However a fairy is to blame for coercing my group into attending and really should have been more forthcoming with the conditions and requirements of the area. I told him as much during the past school week. If I'd been in possession of the facts I would never have agreed - or dragged along my cohorts. Even though I come from a rural area and am used to roughing it, there is roughing it and then there is roughing it. Our experience was the latter and I am indebted to Brad and Natalie for coming along so I didn't lose my mind with the snap-happy Japanese (who were ridiculous!) or commit violence to an overly-eager headmistress.

Comments? Questions? Class you may be excused.

.

Homework: Put that lime to use and make me a little gin and tonic, sweetie.

.

x Teacher

Post VI - 10 Things I (Love) about (Me)

Students,

As I recline on the couch today I would like to share some things about myself you may not already know. Perhaps doing so will give valuable insight into the quick and brilliant mind of your beloved teacher. I have somewhat of a penchant for lists, in fact I make them all the time, and so this blog will follow that format. It may also take some time so you might want to grab a snack…

· The greatness of Great Britain or ‘Lie back and think of England’. I am very proud to be British, and more specifically English. While my home nation is actually quite irritating should you have a home there, it is wonderful in many many ways and as a Brit abroad any mention of it inspires warm feelings and the need to wax lyrical for a bit. I suppose what I particularly enjoy and yearn for is the ‘classic’ Britain with all the trappings of ‘proper’ society. I do not mind a bit if dumb Americans think we all live in castles or talk in faux Hugh Grant-esque sloane accents as long as they also notice such joys as tennis at Wimbledon, the ritual of afternoon tea, HRH the Queen, our fine theatre actors, history and beautiful architecture everywhere, clipped vowels, and our cutting sense of humour. I plan to remain an English gentleman to the core because I put to you the world is a better and more civilized place because of us. This means that I will never be heard telling unnecessarily dirty jokes or (shudder) discussing bodily functions, specifically pooh. I remember times after sharing this information where irritating friends have began describing the messiest do-dos they have ever done done. My simple solution in these situations is to share back with some explicit descriptions of gay sex. Be warned!!!!
· Phobia of old persons. This all started a little while ago in Edinburgh with an unfortunate incident on a bus. One crisp dewy morning I was on the way to the theatre to partake in a tone meeting for a play I was directing. I was running late and Id/Ego/Superego were all bellowing in annoyance at people getting in my way. I had only been seated for a few moments when from behind me I heard some unhealthy wheezes then a loud sneeze. What followed was a sensation that still haunts me. A jet of cold sticky mucus hit the back of my neck with sickening force. I had the germs of an old person on my person. Ever since I have taken more note of the aged population and they continue to alarm me… Why do they wear heavy coats in summer?? Why oh why do they use the doctor’s surgery as a place to congregate and socialize?? Although the phobia – as my friend Rosie told me it was – has slightly abated, I still inform employers if any event arises that requires me to interact with someone who is 60+ I am not the right man for the job and this was made painfully clear when, also in Edinburgh, I gave a historical underground tour to a group from the WI (Womens Institute – another quaint British tradition of old biddies meeting weekly to bake and gossip). As we were underground and in the dark, several of the ladies required me to hold their hands (!) and talk to them IN A VERY LOUD VOICE so they could hear. Students I will just say that I can’t quite do justice to the violent thoughts of Id/Ego/Superego that day. Strange that (similarly to cats) even though I put out that I don’t like them, old people do like me… Let me be clear: old people (apart from my delightful grandparents) are unacceptable to me, they are not as dumb as they like to suggest, and they should not be in my personal space. Which leads to…
· Issues of personal space. It is a sad truth that people violate my personal space on a regular basis. These people are the type not to read my face or body gestures and so they must be stopped. The latest example of personal space violation was last night, and actually the incident not only combined this issue but also my aforementioned phobia. Let me explain. I was with some dear Lopburi friends and a not-so-dear old ‘exception’ / ‘penguin’ at a music gig when said old ‘exception’ informed me I was wearing a serious look on my face. Not realizing said look is reserved specifically for social interaction with him, the ‘exception’ then proceeded to enter my ‘intimacy’ zone. This zone is usually only reserved for occasional familial affection, affection from likeable dogs, and affection from agreeable members of the same sex. What happened next was shocking to say the least and I can only suggest was karmic revenge for my laughing at a Thai man who thought it ok to pick up and lift Brad so he could have more space to sit down. Anyway, the ‘exception’ took his chubby little shrunken hand and rubbed it across my face, pulling my features into a smile… My reaction to this is probably best summed up by the following smiley, since I have yet to find words to capture my true feelings: O_o Please now click on the diagram above for a handy guide but note that the distances displayed must be x3 for me. Easy. Now there are no excuses. However please also note for future reference that if you are someone who enjoys physical closeness with casual acquaintances and you try that shit on me then I am likely to use the same loud command I do on Thai dogs: “Back. It. Up.” That I did not use this command on the ‘exception’ or else connect my hand with his face (using a lot more force than he) is surprising. In the end all I was heard to mutter was “But I’m English…”
· Pointed shit pointing at me. As revealed to close associates earlier last night I am not fond of inanimate objects pointing at right angles to me. If you are lucky enough to lie with me on my bed you will note that nothing in the room is angled directly at me. I know this suggests OCD or addiction but it is not quite as bad as my teenage troubles with plug sockets. When I used to enter rooms and see them switched ‘on’ but have no plugs in them believe me it used to send me over the edge. Now my only addictions involve excessive consumption of water, excessive consumption of BBC World News, and (since ending the happy pills) excessive compulsion for ‘A’.
· Doodle dandy. Another bit of compulsion is my fondness for doodling triangles and stars at every opportunity (usually in my office when you’re talking and I’m not listening.) As the committed teacher I am I have referred back to Sigmund, co-founder of ‘doodleology’ and can tell you that my doodles are very masculine (hardly surprising, right?) as men tend to doodle geometric shapes. If you doodle human figures and faces you are a girl. Apparently my triangles suggest a logical, analytical mind (WTF??!!) while stars suggest I was emotionally deprived as a child (haha). So there, now you can never say you don’t learn things from my blog. Oh and Brad if you are reading this, there is only one interpretation of your doodles and that is that you sir are sick and wrong.
· Syllable satisfaction. One final bit of obsessive compulsion I will share (for if we go into issues of my competitiveness, inability to walk along the street with someone else without walking diagonally into them, and crazy driving rituals then I won’t have any readership) is my compulsion to count syllables when listening to others speak. If you are talking to me and you notice my thumb tapping the fingers of my right hand you can be sure I am counting the vocal syllables in your every word. This crazy shit has taken over my life on many important occasions especially back in the dark past when I was a student and really should have been listening in class. My syllable hell pales however when compared to the weird compulsions of many of my favourite students in England…
· Toxic teens. As Brad already knows I am possessed of a cloying soft spot for maladjusted teenage tearaways and would happily adopt any filthy street kid who came my way (as long as they are not a chav.) Now now students don’t worry, I am no paed. What I mean is that where some folk coo over babies and kittens I cannot help but be charmed by snarky back-chatting kids with behavioural issues. As a teacher I find that the students whom others call “a bad egg”, “nuts”, and just plain “satanic” are the ones I identify with and enjoy to work with most. This may be because I still remember my time at school and the cool stuff me and my gang (secretly) did as opposed to the squares that did such stuff as Young Enterprise – yawn! Never mind the bookish swots (American: nerds) bring on the hoodlums!!
· Sweetcorn. Even saying the word sends shivers down my spine. It is simply evil, my arch enemy, and a foodstuff straight from the bowels of hell. What is to like? It smells AWFUL, has a weird taste and consistency, cannot be properly digested, and not even fish want to eat it when you chuck it in the water (not using your bare hands of course) because you’ve run out of maggots as bait. What concerns me most is how it seems to turn up everywhere. As you may know I regard tuna as the food of the gods so finding those heinous yellow things mixed in does not make me happy. In addition when first coming to Thailand I particularly enjoyed coconut milk for dessert. But one lunchtime at school I was heard to let out a horrified “WHAT??!!” upon noticing that also occupying the bowl were (yet again) those heinous yellow things. Now I know some Thai food does not make a lick of sense but I ask you whoever thought that sweetcorn be used for dessert??? As I said earlier sick and wrong.
· Shy bladder. Yes it is what it is. I admit my bladder is shy. I must say also I have no hang-ups about my body or social nudity so there are no problems with standing at urinals for that reason. But I have had countless incidents of social awkwardness while trying to go in company and being unable to produce the goods and the sound of piss hitting the porcelain that they expect. The worst was the pain I felt after attending an Edinburgh Hogmanay street party night. Facilities there were troughs populated by a mass of men standing so close as to be physically intimate – problem! It was an impossibility for my bladder to withstand it and the result was a severe guttural pain felt until I could get home and piss like a Russian racehorse so offloading the several boxes of wine I had downed. The whole business is especially tricky if my fellow man commits the cardinal sin of talking to me while I’m straining to go or (as Thai men do) check out the cock to ascertain size. Nowadays I find it safer to pop to the stalls and have a (hopefully) eyes-free experience in there.
· I LOVE the swinging 60s. I find that a lot of what I especially like in life (and what Id wants) actually comes from the 1960s. This has always been the case. As a young kid I had an obsession with 60s technicolour TV including Thunderbirds, Star Trek, Lost In Space (yes I am a sci-fi gay) and the Hanna Barbera cartoons. In addition the 60s gave us flower power, the moon landing, Carnaby Street fashion, (cool) hippies, and Elvis. It also produced such British notaries as The Beatles, Sean Connery and Roger Moore (James Bond’s), Lulu and Cilla (!), Julie Andrews, Twiggy, and Diana Rigg. I simply adore the colours, fashions, absurdist movement in theatre, and any collectable knick knacks from that era. I happen to slightly resent my parents for growing up at that time and have told them as much. Although I haven’t ever gone so far as to dress totally 60s (though I did do 50s with my James Dean phase) be warned it may still happen. You bet if I had a time machine, you wouldn’t see me for dust.

So there students. How privileged you are. Now you can step back a bit.

Comments? Questions? Class you may be excused.

Homework: Do a little dance. Make a little love. Get down tonight.


X Teacher

Post-It Note - 'Life is a tragedy for those who feel and a comedy for those who think.'

Post V –

Id(iot) likes planting Seed

Students,

It has come to my attention that some of you may have observed myself and ‘good time’ girls Lady Tara and Lady Jasmine getting what the Thai locals call “mow” and what you may call pissed. Lady, I’d like to tell you you’re wrong, but that could lead to sticky situations and more than my story coming undone. In short, such lies would necessitate spankies. Our dear friend Sigmund may have been wrong about some issues (I have personally never thought of my mother in that way) but on matters of the greedy id when he is right he is right, right? And so for our blog today I wish to detail the (some say) wicked temptations in this monkey-sex town of Lopburi. One in particular comes to mind and that one is Seed Pub, a late-night establishment that students should - not ever – care to attend (but annoyingly, do.) At this point, a word or 160 from Ego, mistress (or Mr.) of ceremonies:

Ego: As the rational lez in this mind (f*ck) sandwich, may I beseech you to remember the high moral character I embody between the ‘anything goes’ Id(eas) and the yes sir/no sir top -> bottom imbalance of (NOT SO) Superego. Teachers have a duty to be everything to their students while fresh of face, young of spirit, and strict in action… (That’s action not in-action.) What must be kept frontal lobe is the oft-quoted “Work hard, play hard(er.)” Which, it is certain, is what this dili-gent teacher enjoys. “Youth is wasted on the young” is another of those academic sayings that drifts into my mind space from time to (closing) time. The point(s): “Learn it before live it.” “Work before play and play before work.” But separate the two. Always. Cooking in Hell’s fires is the result if you don’t… There that’s all the flogged-to-death analogies from me for now. Don’t have nightmares.

Now. To Seed. I would describe this Lopburian lounge as a place (It’s) Britney (bitch) would call home. As you see from her photo above, students she is an example of an individual of upmost class. Much like Seed. And, like Id, she would no doubt savour the crush of sweaty young bodies, appropriately inappropriate gropage while en route to the water closet, the series of catwalks populated by nudish nymphs bopping to stimulating (read: erotical) beats, and the hot (in the dark) waiters responsible for much of aforementioned gropage…

Saturday P.M./Sunday A.M. with my Ladies was tame compared to previous visits. You see I would never have came across this special devil’s playground were it not for my keeping company with some naughty (but nice) Thai associates. This gaggle of gays spirited me off there once, and I’m proud to say before we had the mainstream (as evidenced by my students) blocking the dance floor (read: dance square.) Back in the golden days of yore (not quite when all was still in black and white but not yesterday anyhow) it offered even more. It was simply Seedier. One could rub shoulders (and other body parts) with pimps and their prostitutes, various gender benders, and very many model-esque young upstarts in very little attire…

Possibly my favourite Seed-y night can be seen amid the photos of my earlier Picture Post, though sadly this does not quite do justice to an experience that saw Natalie mowed with the mo’s, Brad re-applying his clothes, and myself declaring “Anything goes!” Well actually I had a little (or big) bit more to declare but that’s best left as memory for the poor sober ladies of 7/11… At this midway point the gag will be removed from Id’s mouth so he can spew some muck:

Id: I’m a go-er that’s for damn sure. What goes on (with) the head is why I’m in this race. And the Thais they loves that honey, too. You gotta keep awake in this heat, see? Gotta be active not passive else you’ll be sleeping on the job. I am cock-sure about one thing though and that’s the education those students will get if they keep on going. No, I won’t be the provider. Nor will the TV… Unless of course it’s a different kind of TV…

Insightful. But students, what this really comes down to is the ‘A’ grade fun one can have as part of the after-dark crowd. While I cannot guarantee vampirism will provide you a tonsil-tickling social circle, what I will say is that the Thais do know how to party. And I will play Peter Pan on the club scene as long as I can. The Lost Boys would expect nothing less. Given my recent unfortunate (read: ‘A’aaaaaaaaaaa(h)!) ‘A’ge change, my only concession is rule #1: 'not on school nights.’ At this (jumping off a bridge) point the final thought is with the alter-ego, Superego:

Superego: (As you know) I swing both ways. But I dress just one way. To the left. Debauchery is all good and proper, but will somebody please think of the children?? Oh good. Job done then. Be a man, agreed? Go Seed!

Comments? Questions? Class you may be excused.

Homework: Just say “No!”

Further reading: Today Teacher believed that the id of Student Chen could not possibly be heard from on a Creative Writing exam paper. How wrong. In answer to a question on using verbs to explain what you do at different times of day, under his ‘Evening’ heading he wrote ‘Having sex in bed.’ But it didn’t end there… In answer to a question on using 3 adjectives to describe Beyoncé, Chen chose ‘beautiful’, ‘sexy’, and ‘fucking hot.’ I of course expect him to achieve his usual high marks.

x Teacher

Post IV – The Good and the Bad (no uglies) of Thailand

Students,

I am often asked “Teacher, do you miss England?” The short answer is “Yes, you twit.” But to answer the question as thoroughly as you’ve come to expect, I will forego id/ego/superego this blog and instead employ a simple technique known as 'Pros and Cons'. I myself am a pro but a con is a person of dubious character and lifestyle. I’d like to tell you I have never encountered such persons. But I can’t. Another time we will use a top psychiatrical technique known as 'I Have Never' and information on con artists (read: a certain former live-in lover) will no doubt be recollected. But not this blog. The 'Pros and Cons' today regard the land of the Thai and my good/bad experiences therein. Probing psycho-anal-ysis is sure to find a hard answer as to why I miss England but am very happy Thailand is my home from home.

Pros: Mental health is taken care of here through sun, sun, and more sun plus ego is stroked through celebrity status of being one of the few young (and therefore attractive) whiteys in town. Lopburi is a rural area surrounded by mountains and sunflower fields where if one were feeling adventurous one could straddle and ride a throbbing motorbike yonder… Or a trip to 7/11 for more Sangsom liquor and an exciting Queer as Folk marathon with soul brother Brad could also do the trick. The tedious work of the house is done through hotel home staff, and the never-ending work of the teacher is made easier by (similarly) hard-working students whose (sometime) guttural minds mirror my own* My Thai students, and the people in general, are beyond gracious and kind. Though they think me ‘serious’ for not smiling quite as much as they, I have a lot to thank them for. And the men are pretty darn hot too. I would suggest that the Thai’s penchant for tight uniforms on soldiers, police officers, and doctors be shared in every nation.

There is however one more pro I will note and that is Bangkok. Though polluted, crowded, full of old ugly balding fat cartoon-bodied westerners, and frigging expensive, one night in Bangkok is a sinful delight. While there with friend Jamie (a man whose sexual drive surpasses my own) and Lee (a man who does ‘rabbit in headlights’ to a T before delivering a quip so cutting it draws blood) we ventured into the night on Jamie’s assertions that the good stuff would come our way through an (endlessly repeated) instruction to a cabbie of “No bom bom no pay!” For I to recall and accurately convey the sights of Bangkok’s dark underbelly that night would require a five-drink minimum. Suffice to say that each visit to the city has brought much reliable ‘A’ action and its innuendo-inducing name is not for nothing.

Cons: Aside from missing family and friends the last 7+ months have been relatively con-free. That is save for two western teacher ‘exceptions’ (now thankfully buggered off.) One important matter that I have said and said again is that yellow just does not suit me. In their devotion to the King many Thais wear his colour all day. I’d love to myself but all three of id/ego/superego would first have to be unconscious. As would I. The Dean may mutter but on this issue I won’t budge. Call me vain… but don’t call me fat. And if other Thai teachers would take that on-board too (perhaps by noticing the rage cross my face as they make that particular statement) I would be as happy and gay and light of step as they.

* As example, a whole blog could be devoted to Creative Writing student Chen. His ‘creative’ responses to tasks usually involve some obsecenely entertaining interpretation of his sex life. That is except for last week when in response to a fictional postcard writing task he explained his dream holiday as being a trip to the moon with his best bud to see how far they could shoot their body juices in the low gravity… In addition there have been some classic sexually-charged quotations purred by my ladyboy students, my favourite so far being “Teacher, do you have big boy?”

So you see what riles me about life here is far outnumbered by the delights of living in a country so unique and special. I am English so do have episodes of unimpressed-ness such as when forced to wait an age in check-out queues, but Miss Winter, if you are reading, you will be amused to hear of a reduction in slacker tendencies due to my working alongside colleagues whose own ‘relaxed’ approach often borders on inertia. My mind here is refreshingly clear, and students you will be pleased to hear that teaching is once more a real passion and reason to get me going each morning...

But one more thing to end, besides family and friends and f_ _ k _ _ g (more) what do I miss about England? In brief: food like lasagne, potatoes, good cereals, Dad’s fajitas and Mum’s roast dinner, hanging out and milling about shops like Topman, British music and music channels, British TV, Saturday nights with Morrell, long laugh-out-loud phone calls with Zoë, getting told off by Sister for not being her suitably brotherly role model, going to the cinema, red wine, hearing rain while I fall asleep, my books and DVDs, being able to teach more Drama, and… dogs that are well-adjusted and don’t want to jump out with their whole ‘all bark no bite’ schtick.

Comments? Questions? Class you may be excused.

Homework: Take a long hard look at yourself.

x Teacher

Post III - The Pleasures and Horrors of New Year

Students,

In a (rare) insight into my personal life I am going to give you a blow-by-blow account of my New Year. If you need the toilet go now. So it was all planned and would be very different from previous New Year’s with my beloved wife in Jersey. This time Khon Kaen in north Thailand. No crowds, few foreigners, and for Brad and myself lots of fun to be had with the natives. While Natalie, ever the sport, was happy in her role as Social Director (this meant her id had food and booze and sleep in pleasingly large quantities.) Looking back, I can say that we had a total blast and a lot of fun. With some exceptions. This blog is of course above personal attacks so the main ‘exception’ (read: old git) will not be discussed. So let’s be terribly Freudian and British and focus on the positives, shall we?

The city was very nice but the best thing was the weather. We were not treated to rain but it was cooler than a furnace for once. This meant I could bring out of the closet my new DKNY jacket that id and butch ego had had such a fight over buying in Bangkok (obviously id won.) In addition the locals were very friendly (Brad certainly found so…) I would like to tell you that during our time there we saw many tourist sights, but unless (hot) gay hustlers and one gap-toothed old dyke hooping and hollering after us count, all we really did was eat, sleep, drink, laugh lots, gossip, avoid the ‘exception’ already mentioned, and drink some more. In fact Social Director and I were so spirited with our spirits that after a while our bodies would not physically allow us to get wasted anymore and we had to move on to dancing instead.

My favourite things about Khon Kaen were of course sampling the local delicacies including ‘McChicken Sandwiches’, and the exciting bars we toured. The supposed gay bar was little more than a dark techno trash room with neon lights (yes I know what else is a homo disco?) but this one suffered due to no class (guys were huffing paint in the toilets) and no actual queers in sight. Much better was the Harem club where a near-nude lady gave me a lap dance and Brad a look of horror. But on New Years Day morning no less, our intrepid trio visited a bar populated only by police that had a bathroom our Social Director succinctly described as “looking like a dead body has been thrown around and bounced off each wall.” This bar was. Very. Exciting. At the time I felt like zzzzzzzzzzz. Kidding. No, it wasn’t a favourite highlight and at this point I would like to ask id / ego / superego to briefly explain why on New Years morning I had what Brad describes as “a deteriorating mood”:

Id.
No hoochie koochie, honey. One motherf***ing year older. Not “mow” (English: intoxication).
Ego.
The combination of being a quarter of a century old as of a few days earlier, and the ‘exception’ who does not obey the rules AND being peni deprived (read: depraved) led to the bad ‘A’ word: angst. I should know I’m a muncher.
Superego.
Knowing what was wrong who was right? As you know I go both ways. I had no right to be moody (apologies), it was right of y’all to leave me be, and it was wrong wrong wrong that ‘exceptional’ circumstances made us leave the boogie club and head to the grim reaper’s karaoke bar. Be a man, rise above it.

But back to business. What was the least fun and not favourite thing about our trip? (Though amusing nonetheless). Answer: the trip itself. Getting there was fine save for the near-death minibus collision but that was nothing compared to the purgatory of the trip back. There we were perched on a shelf at the back of a crowded bus with a never-ending TV ‘variety’ concert that had more panpipe musical numbers than Ireland has ever heard in its history. However. This trip took 8 HOURS. And it didn’t end there…

When we reached Saraburi, half an hour from Lopburi, we had to leave the first bus to catch a local one back home. But there wasn’t one. Unless we wanted to sleep on a bench with some monks and teenage prostitutes we had to check into the local hotel. This hotel was described by Natalie as “The Bates Motel”, by me as “Hell Hotel”, and Brad could only nervously giggle before regaining composure and informing us - and showing me - our neighbours in the next cell’s Nazi flags and describing how he believed our cell’s ceiling panels (one of which had a hook hanging from it) would be removed after-dark so that disfigured mutants could climb down and snatch us and fillet our corpses. As well as (aptly) having only a show about a mortician to watch on TV, we had to bear the many strange noises, suspicious stains on almost every surface, and the shower. We were afraid to use this after Brad (again being helpful) suggested should we peer down the plug hole we may hear the whimpers of a small child imprisoned at the bottom of a well. Thankfully we all made it out alive and intact after having been woken from our ten-minute slumber by a family of pigeons socializing on the window grills above our heads. It was a huge relief to get back to my hotel home where Natalie and I closed the trip in style by drinking beer in the pool and generally getting a bit rowdy.

So now the New Year is here and I have described our adventures, we will end the blog by hearing from id / ego/ superego once more with resolutions for the year ahead:

Id.
Another ‘A’ word to go with the others: Addiction. Think with brain not c*ck says a wise friend. I says keep ‘em coming. Honey.
Ego.
It’s 2008 not 2000 and ‘ate’. Cut the carbs. Keep at the gym. Do those lunges. Inclince those flys. Perv those pecs. And the fit man inside will out. Inner->outer. Healthy body, healthy mind.
Superego.
As you know I go both ways. Keep on top of the ‘addiction’ situation and don’t bottom out. As a teacher you are a moral centre. So be a man’s man.

Comments? Questions? Class you may be excused.

Homework: Fill me with your love.

Answer to homework from Post I = #3 is the one who came through in the end. Teacher got A*

x Teacher

Picture Post - 'Thai Chi.' Click to make bigger.