Pulling our Hair Out

I’ve been doing so, figuratively, concerning my recent decline of executive function, but my autistic son has been doing so literally. He has “stim” habits (as the special ed teachers say): at various times picking at socks and sleeves and chair cushions.  He’s been working on a spot on his head, though, and has, one hair at a time, picked this spot bald.   In fact, we had to take him to the hair salon and they engineered a combover for him.

I tried to reason with him in front of the mirror the other day, showing him what he’s done to his scalp, but he refuted by best argument by informing me that he actually would like to look like Dr. Phil.  He’s also a huge fan of Billy Mays, though, so I’m not trusting his aesthetic at the moment.

English: Billy Mays

Shameless Self Promotion

I’ve been really happy with the feedback I’ve gotten from this blog.  In the effort to further puff up my vanity, I have started another new blog.

I’m an MFA graduate and frustrated poet.  I’ve been writing a lot the last twenty years without seeing much of it published.  Among the many drafts I have, I’ve written a number of poems about my son who has autism and I’m tired of sending them out to journals and book publishers to be mostly rejected.

So I will put them on my new blog.  Please check it out and comment.  I love comments.  They make my whole day better.  Even if your comment is how much I suck, at least someone is reading and reacting to my work, instead of just sending me the standard electronic rejection slip.

And now, behold!  The link: