... Agree with me, Timothy. I must have your support. Grant me a measure of acquiescence; chant me a mantra of acceptance. Timothy, stand behind me on this. I want to tell you a story about difficulties of the mind and the soul, separately and together. It goes like this, Timothy:

A man, my older brother, stands on his head on a street corner. Daily. He is paid; it is his only source of income. At nine each morning he punches in over there, no, over there, next to the fish market, sets up his pillow right there, and stands on his head. Until five, yes, with an hour for lunch at noon. Why? Good hours. Good wages. He feeds a family of four with his salary--a suicidal wife, a retarded son, an autistic daughter. The sadness of his life has worn him down, has degraded the quality of his work--that is, the aesthetic value of his headstands. He worries that his funding won't last, and that, too, distracts him.

One day he wakes up groggily, is unable to shake the morning confusion. He punches in, but forgets to stand on his head, and spends the entire morning standing on his feet. People walking by start to notice. Traffic builds as drivers slow down to look. What is he thinking? Only when he leaves for lunch does he realize his mistake. He immediately calls his boss to apologize, but his boss is not there. Not wanting to disrupt the continuity of his day, he continues to stand on his feet after lunch. Many people photograph him. Someone from the press comes to interview him, but he does not answer the questions.

He is highly embarrassed and resolves never to make the same mistake again. The next morning there is a crowd of people at his street corner, but when they see him stand on his head as usual they leave. He goes out and stands on his head one Saturday to make up for the lost day, but no one really notices.

He receives double his usual paycheck at the end of the month. No explanation.