One Pretentious Bastard: January 2004

My goddamn rock solid ghetto shiznit name is Wankmaster Get Down.
What's yours?
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Wednesday, January 28, 2004

I find this funny.

I find this terrible.

Tuesday, January 27, 2004

My memory isn't that good. Actually, thats incorrect. My memory is screwy. For instance, I can remember songs that people hum a few bars of, a few details of strange court cases and all sorts of things I'd rather forget. I can't typically remember relevant dates anymore, nor can I really remember phone numbers.

I bring this up because I don't remember how I said I was going to show how I was listening to something when I was working on a blog post. Lets just say I'm listening to Weezer, and move on, shall we?

There is so much going on here, I think I should change the name of the damn blog. Free-Association or something like that sounds like a better title, as lately, I haven't been ranting. I've been "sharing." <---sneer quotes. I have three things floating around my rather empty brain, so I'll just start typing and see where it gets me. Then you, dear friend, get to read this crap.

I'll start with the new group I agreed to run. These are punk ass twelve year old kids. They're screwed up, angry and I really don't want to deal with them. I really overestimated my ability here. I can't back out now, so, instead I'm going to work on developing a better group for them. What these kids have in common, at this level, is their complete anti-social behavior. i'm going to have to look into different ways of connecting with them, different methods of getting them to behave.

And after this, I will not do it again.

Maybe I wouldn't feel so bad about working with 12 year old nutjobs if I wasn't so disgruntled about the Condo thing. I guess because I don't have a job that pays 60 Grand a year, buying a place in the city will be hard. I just don't see the point in renting anymore.

Thats not really true. What I want, more than anything else, is to keep working on "getting over" my dad's passing. Why does the condo thing fit in here? Simple: I think it'd make me be more of an adult. Hell, I just want to show off. I want these past six months to culminate into something good, something that I would at least, in some weird karmic sense, begin to make up for the shitty year that was 2003.

And, I am worried about work. But, right now, i'm going to go veg out infront of KoTOR for a bit before I pass out.

Saturday, January 24, 2004

Watching: David Cross, "Let America Laugh"

So, today I looked at a Condo. Despite my attempts not to, I fell in love with a floor plan. I love the location, right next door to Old St. Pats church, and blocks away from the trains. With the right mortgage, I even think I can afford it.Well, I think I can definitely afford it.

This means no big trips. This means I have to save a hell of a lot of money.

This also means, that for the next few days, all I am going to be able to think about, or work on, is this goddamn condo. However, I have been looking at other developments, and I need to be objective...

For at least a week, right?

Tuesday, January 20, 2004

Many people here know about the dollar bet, but just in case someone new shows up, here's a quick summary.

Say you want to make your friends do something silly, like moonwalk or break dance in a bar, or something gross, like eat spoon fulls of Chinese chili paste. Offer them a dollar, and have them sign it. Then, when they have a stupid task for you, turn about becomes fair play....

Its great comedy for the bars, but not so good for stomachs, getting girls digits or much else.

So, Saturday night, we (Mark, Evan, Kate, Brad and I) returned to the bar scene. It was awesome. In returning to the Bar scene, we also had a return to the Dollar Bet (well, we've got two dollars now, as we feared I had lost one). Kate, had me moonwalk and dance at Cleo's, a wee little thing of bar. Problem is, I can't moonwalk. However, given that it was a dollar bet, I had to accept. I improvised a bit...

I seraneded Evan.

It was perfect. Stevie Wonder's , "I believe when I fall in love" came on. I danced a little bit. Tried to remember the words to the verses....but when the chorus came, there I was, on Evan's lap. Singing to him.

Now some would ask about my alcohol content. It was as follows: From 10:30 to 2 am or so:

6 beers
1 shot of Tequlia
1 Coke and Vanilla schnapps...

To be honest, not that much in my opinion.

Anyway, people were either laughing or not paying attention. I had earned the dollar, and it only cost me a wee bit of dignity.
----

On a related note, I am hoping someone can point me to some bar-etiquette web page or something. Every-time I go to bar, I am amazed at what I think is bad manners. Now this is not to say that I'm some sort of Mr. Manners; I love the f-bomb too much to even come close. Take for instance, Saturday at Tuman's Alcohol Abuse Center...

With a small degree of foresight, I know that this story will reflect poorly on me... Oh well.

Someone, whose name I don't know, had the most annoying anime style giggle-shout. It was high pitched and shrill, the rough equivalent of a dolphin whistling and giggling in your ear at the same time. After a shrill giggle every 15 seconds, I couldn't stand it anymore. It interrupted our conversations. It invaded my train of thought. Dear lord, was it horrible...

We had discussed various options, but we didn't really wanna move our table. The dolphin like person just would not stop. So, like an asshole, after she shouted her "OH MY GOD" one time to many, I said, rather loudly, "What the fuck was that?" I made eye contact with this person on "WAS THAT?"

She turned to her boyfriend, who flashed me a well deserved dirty look, but thats where it ended.

I admit, that was a class one example of me being a jerk... What would have been the appropriate way of dealing with that situation? Should I have just encouraged everyone to move? I'm already discounting ignoring it--this went well above the approved decibels of bar conversation, including shouting and goofing off. Next time this happens, I'd like to be prepared...

This makes me very mad for some reason. No cookies to anyone who gives them money.

A reminder about the cookie thing:

If you want a cookie, you have to make sure I have your current address; otherwise, I can't really send you a cookie, can I? Also, make sure you request a kind of cookie. If you have special dietary needs, please don't be embarrassed by them; request what you can have. Trust me, its not nearly as embarrassing as giving away free cookies...

or serenading a friend in a bar. But, more on that later.

Thursday, January 15, 2004

I have a lot to say, and since I have court tomorrow, not a lot of time to say it... So, I'll go in order.

First of all, I wanna thank everyone for the comments. Cookies for all! Come on kids, give me addresses. I'm serious about cookies!

But, seriously, after the grief session tonight, I have learned a very important lesson; and Will is mostly right; the secondary losses are going by. As each day passes, I deal with my dad's passing. I'm not avoiding them, am I trying to deal with them.

See, I've learned to look at it this way: Working through this is like working another job. So, its natural that I'm going to get tired.

To be honest, this sounded a lot cooler in my head. When I get inspired again, I'll write some more.

Excuse me if I've written this before. If it gets boring, go here.

I did that link by hand. If I wasn't on this new health kick ($800 Suit 2k4 is the official name; a post on that later) I'd give myself a cookie--A cookie, like I'll mail to you if you comment now!

I really need to be asleep right now. But, once again, I'm wide awake. Thursday is usually a big day, and tomorrow is going to be fairly important. Another evaluation. Another session with a slow kid. Another grief therapy session.

I think the Grief therapy is the hardest thing to do. I'm not big on therapy. This is weird to say (write?) considering my dreams of becoming some sort of social worker, but its true. I understand its importance as long as I'm not the subject of this therapy thing. Its part guilt, part stigma, part not-really-wanting-to-deal-with-loss. Yet, I really get something out of this stuff, like, for instance, Loss.

Now, it's hard to overstate the role my parents, especially my dad, played in my life. I was one of the lucky kids: I got good--no fantastic--parents, a good home and a standard education. With my dad's passing away, I've experienced "Primary loss." This means, in case you couldn't guess, his physical presences, guidance and friendship. Everything I would do with my dad, I can't do. Getting over this takes time. But in a more eloquent way, to paraphrase Allison if you think I should be over this, fuck off.

However, in addition to these vary powerful issues and emotions that stem from this primary loss, I also have secondary losses. These are the, possibly perceived losses, that are a part of the grieving process. For instance, when one of the Gleason kids gets married, has children or goes onto graduate school, there will be no father that wants to brag about his son's accomplishments. For me another secondary loss is clearly my return home. The 'Burbs don't have good bars in walking distance. I mean, we have Tooters, featuring a very tasteful "Best Butt Contest," or Kenny's Tavern, featuring everyone from High School that I don't want to see. Sound like fun to you kids?

Not to sound flip, but those to "establishments" almost make this a primary loss...but I digress.

Anyway, these secondary losses keep piling up. Take the house for instance. My mom is going to sell it. There is too much space for one person, and to be honest, it needs a lot of work. My dad stubbornly refused to sell the house or retire. He loved sitting on the deck, underneath this giant tree, reading his book with a glass of vodka in his hand. (He called it a martini, but, a Gleason Martini is a glass of Smirnoff with a jalape?o olive, on the rocks (a well guarded family secret, mind you.)) This activity outweighed any bit of work that the house needed, including shoveling snow or salting ice.

I have this selfish dream that I take someone special to this house, and one day, kids. "This is the place where dad tried to sneak in, but grammie found him. Boy, was she pissed." or " This is the garage where we made naplam, this is the fence we almost burned down. Your uncle and your father were stupid kids." Better yet, "This is the tree that we never thought would live this long. Your grandfather used to sit under this tree and read. On sundays, the day that we get together with your cousins, we used get here. My uncles would sit and talk about all sorts of things here."

That isn't going to happen. I've been dreaming about stuff like that since I figured that one day, I'd be dad. That was long before I recognized that subtle complexities involved in dating. Regardless of my current state, you get the idea: These secondary losses keep building.

The more I think about it, the more real they become. No family trip to Ireland. My dad, the big Irish man that he was, never went to Ireland. He told me, point blank, he was waiting for me to go with him.

I went back through my archives quickly to see if I wrote this before, and I couldn't find it. So, here goes with another cathartic use of the blogger...

Saturday night, the night before my dad went into the hospital, I helped him up the stairs. Helped is generous. I pratically carried my dad up the stairs. His arms, which were once the strongest arms I've ever known, had just disintegrated. They had no muscle mass. He got up the stairs without crawling. He had tried that before... I told my dad, when he reached the top of the stairs, I told him how proud I was of him. He called out to my mom, saying:

"You hear that Judy? He's proud of me."

He was beaming. His voice was almost normal again.

As best I can remember, he told me that he loved me, and to get a good nights sleep. I cried that night, to see my dad so happy and so very weak.

I'm positive now that my dad knew that was the last night he'd sleep in the house.

----------

I started planing this post to be something more along the lines of:

"I am so goddamn sick of people forcing their beliefs down my throat." This stems from the weird number of born again blogs I stumbled across, and the books talking about the "liberal assault" on christianity. I feel that I have a responsibility to say a few things on that, namely that:

1) It is possible to be a liberal and believe in God.
2) A counter-assault, if there is any kinda of assault at all, would be more appropriate.
3) Creationism is bad science.

However, I would rather talk to someone than write more dribble. However, if you're Born Again and you comment here, I'll be more than willing to entertain some sort of discussion. I promise, I won't box you.

Wednesday, January 14, 2004

1) Jesus Christ, Cingular Wireless and AT&T may become Behemoth. Maybe I'll get minute-roll over....

2) I am currently working at home, making detailed worksheets for kids with reading levels under the sixth grade. This is not so easy. When working with challenged youth, especially those youth who like to put their hand where the don't belong, you have to be very concrete. Problem is, the treatment methods go beyond concrete. So, worksheets need to have detailed, yet simple instruction. Sessions need to go slowly, but not so slow that you bore your client.

And, despite what people say, working at home is still friggin work.

3) I got a jury duty summons. I have to go to my dad's old office, and be a member of the Voire Dire process. I won't be selected.

Monday, January 12, 2004

This is the poem I wrote that got me accepted into this poetry.com thing. I think its bad.

My life is barren
and bleak
come enter my dungeon of despair
Oh why will no one enter my dungeon?
Is it not Dank?
Is it not Deep?
IS my makeup not perfect?
Is not my attitude snobbish,
yet persecuted?
Woe is me
Woe is me

Pass me a clove

Zach did a fantastic reading of this years ago. Maybe I'll get him to do it again.

Its really, really weird but I can access my blog to write something new, but I can't VIEW my blog.

I blame Ashcroft.

Sunday, January 11, 2004

It has come to my attention...

In the spirit of a grand tradition that has fallen dormant for the past 6 years, I will do the following in order to increase comments on my blog:

Everyone who comments, I will contact by email in order to mail them a goddamn cookie. Even if its a mean comment. Your choice of cookie, as long as it isn't over $10.00--I'm not paying that much for a damn cookie. This will be one cookie. You can have a maximum of two cookies a month. Please allow 6-8 weeks for delivery. I'll ship them wherever USPS ships.

And, as a bonus, If I don't know you, I'll send you TWO cookies of up to a $20.00 value.

Yes, this is selling out, but I really don't care. I just want more comments than Brian.

And, if someone comments about a cookie that is worth more than $10.00, I'll probably freak out.

Once, a long time ago, I wrote a really bad goth poem for my friend, Alex. A couple of months ago, I submitted this bad poem to some website; I think I did it to get free access to something or other...

anyway, this is what they have been sending me.
Ladies and gentlemen, and fellow poets . . . It's now time to declare the winner of the largest cash prize ever awarded to an amateur poet . . . Our Poet of the Year for 2004 . . . and Grand Prize winner of $20,000 is . . .

Martin Gleason!

We're familiar with your work, Martin, and you know . .
it could happen just that way!

Dear Martin,

I would like to inform you of your nomination as Poet of the Year for 2004, and to personally invite you to read your poetry at the single largest gathering of poets in history, where you will be formally inducted as an International Poet of Merit and Honored Member of our Society for 2004.

Your induction will take place Friday evening, March 5th, at the Walt Disney World Resort in Orlando, Florida, during the International Society of Poets Spring 2004 Convention and Symposium.

You will also be honored with two separate and very special awards for your poetic achievement at special ceremonies throughout the weekend.

First, to honor and commemorate your poetic accomplishments, after you present your poetry in front of fellow poets from around the world, amidst the applause from the audience, you will be presented with your Outstanding Achievement in Poetry Silver Award Cup. The Award is a magnificent work of art in itself ($200.00 value), uniquely engraved and mounted on a cherry-wood base (see it here). This incomparable award is so large and heavy, you may need an extra suitcase just to carry it home!

And Martin . . . there's much more . . .

In recognition of your poetry presentation at this prestigious International Symposium, we will also create and present to you a beautiful and colorful Commemorative Award Medallion to honor your poetic dedication and achievements.

36 POETS WILL SHARE $74,000.00 TOTAL IN PRIZES--INCLUDING
THE SINGLE LARGEST POETRY CASH PRIZE EVER AWARDED--$20,000.00!

And don't forget the most lucrative amateur poetry contest ever! Your contest entry poem can be written in any style, on any subject . . . and can be up to 40 lines long.

Just think . . . for this poem alone, you will have the opportunity to win one of 36 cash and gift prizes to be awarded at the Symposium . . including a Grand Prize of $20,000.00--the largest cash prize ever awarded in an amateur poetry competition. There's also a Second Prize of $5,000.00, two Third Prizes of all-expenses paid vacations for two, including a Caribbean cruise and a trip to Cancun, Mexico, a Fourth Prize of $1,000.00, and six other cash prizes of $500.00 each. World-renowned Pulitzer Prize-winning poet, W.D.Snodgrass, and Academy of American Poets Chancellor, David Wagoner, will be with us to congratulate poets and present the Grand Prize.

Your society is also encouraging today's youth to develop and utilize their poetic talents in a positive manner. This year we will award five $1,000.00 cash scholarships to talented young poets attending the Symposium.

Our editors and professors will also be searching for new poetic talent. Twenty poets will be "discovered" in the contest reading sessions. These winners will be awarded publishing or recording contracts that will generate international exposure for their poetic artistry.

In all, $74,000.00 in cash and prizes will be awarded at this single event!

LIGHTS . . . CAMERA . . . ACTION!

And that's still just the beginning . . . we've got three very special days planned for you . . . ones you'll never forget!

**You will be officially inducted as an honorary "International Poet of Merit" for 2004.

**You and your poetic achievements will be honored at two Gala Banquets and Award Ceremonies.

**You will enjoy dazzling entertainment shows created especially for you featuring famous doo-wop girl band, The Shangri-Las, legendary Motown singing group, the Marvelettes, plus other special surprise entertainers. These special command performances will thrill and delight you. There will also be lots of other entertainment, including Midnight Dance Parties on both Friday and Saturday nights!

**Our own "Poetry for Prizes" show will be hosted by Bob Eubanks. For four decades, Bob Eubanks wrote television history as host of the incredibly successful The Newlywed Game. Along with The Newlywed Game, Bob has served as the genial host for game shows on all three networks. Currently Bob can be seen four times a day on Sony's Game Show Network.

**You will learn more about your craft in seminars, reading rooms, rap sessions, and workshops, where you can read and discuss your poetry in informal settings with other poets from all over the world. Back by popular demand are the ISP rap rooms, our famous sunrise poetry readings, the ISP Coffee House, the ISP Open Microphone Rooms, and workshops on how to fine-tune your poetic talents.

**You will have the rare opportunity to get up-close and personal with the Pulitzer Prize-winning poet W.D. Snodgrass, Dr. Herbert Woodward Martin, and Dr. Len Roberts, who will also be reading their own work.

**You will participate in a fantastic international poetry competition featuring 36 prizes totaling $74,000.00. A Grand Prize of $20,000.00, two all-expenses paid vacations for two, including a Caribbean cruise and a trip to Cancun, Mexico, 8 other cash prizes totaling $9,000.00, 10 poetry recording contracts, 10 book publishing contracts, and 5 $1,000.00 Young Poets Scholarship prizes will be awarded at this single event.

**You and your guests will also be eligible to win one of many door prizes, valued at over $6,000.00.

**You will make friendships that will last a lifetime and will return home with wonderful memories, your Outstanding Achievement in Poetry Silver Award Cup, your Commemorative Award Medallion, and lots of other special gifts.

DON'T BE LEFT OUT

Don't miss this opportunity. Space is limited, and our Conventions routinely sell out. Plan to join your fellow poets at the Walt Disney World Resort in Orlando, Florida, March 5-7, 2004, for the poetic event of the year! I am also looking forward to meeting you and celebrating the power and beauty of poets and poetry!

Sincerely,
Steve Michaels
International Society of Poets
Convention Chairperson

I brought this on myself, i know that now.

Wednesday, January 07, 2004

Attention Spam Monsters

Please remove me from your Penis enhancing, "this is what your lover wants," secret sex acts email list. I am currently single, and I will remain so for a while. I'm not a proponent of one night stands--for myself at least--nor will I be using prostitutes any time in the near future. I believe you are wasting seconds of your precious time. Further, I am only becoming increasingly cynical and bitter about all sorts of this...and you bastards seem to be getting around my email filters.

Also, if you would be so kind as to stop sending me, "loose 20 lbs in 2 minutes" stuff too, I would greatly appreciate it. See, I am feeling very fat after the wonderful holiday season (lots of tasty food and drink = fatty mc fat fat) and the last thing I need is your bullshit exercise/diet/pill/plan. Let me wallow in my blubber and work it off the old fashioned way: Working out and starving myself.

Please note my pleasant voice and the (relative) lack of typos. I believe that 2004 can be a good year for both of us if you just leave me alone. Failure to do so will incur my rather (impotent) wrath.

Transitions Suck

So, its after 2 in the morning, and I can't sleep. I'm not really sure why. I have to be up early to take my mom to chemo, so I should be in bed...but what's the point? I mean, I'm awake--I mean really awake--so trying to sleep would be a waste of my time.

I only have one more section to work on for my evaluation, and thast the family section. whoopee. as the report stands now, it is 7 pages. It'll hit 9 at least. Thats great. That hasn't really helped with my quest to get into grad school. Nor has it made me feel good about doing any type of "work." I think I should have passed on this eval, mostly because I am just too damn lazy to do it right.

I'm not even in a good enough mood to write about politics.

I am still procrastinating from a report that I need to finish by tomorrow. I just got sick and fucking tired of writing the goddamn thing. Combined with the fact that I didn't get all my material... Hrmph. I think the problem is that I'm sick of writing in general.

What I want is this: I want to hang out with my friends from college again. I had tried, very hard, to forget how much I've missed them. As much as I love my friends who live in Chicago (or nearby), especially those who went to school with me, I really miss just hanging around like the old days (ala back in the day. Refer to the archives if you're lost. I'm not that clever with HTML to make it easy for you).

I don't mean to whine about work, but I had such a hard time getting to work today. Christ. Then, I just couldn't get motivated to do anything. I know that part of this nostalgia kick has something to do with my Dad and my current living situation... but another part of it just has to do with the fact that I miss all of my long distance friends.

Talking on the phone has never really done anything for me. Writing letters (regular or email) is something I forget to do. I created a Beloit Specific Blog, but, that isn't much better. Instant messengers is great if everyone was online...but they're not. Fortunately, I make enough money--and get enough time off--to travel. Sometimes, I feel rather guilty about how much time I get and how much money I make...

I'm going to post this, and write about something more constructive later.

Tuesday, January 06, 2004

Al Franken:

"Despite his politics, comedian honored to entertain troops in Iraq"--CNN website.

This is the type of bullshit that pisses me off right back into full fledged awareness. Is it possible for a person who hates the right wing to support our troops?

I always that that supporting troops and being for PEACE is not mutually exclusive. In fact, I thought it was more of a plausible phrase than Compassionate Conservatism. In fact, in his book Lies and the Lying Liars that them: A Fair and Balanced Look at the Right , Al Franken goes on to talk in great detail about working for the USO. Its quite clear that he is very proud of this service...

but can he be proud of those who serve, and still not like Bush, Ashcroft and Rummy?

How could that be? Maybe, just maybe, a person can separate soldiers from policy makers? Is it possible that a person could appreciate the sacrifices that a solider might make, but satirize the people--who make at least 10x the amount of the average solider--who order those soldiers to die for reasons we don't understand. I guess Us "liberals" have to work really hard to make that distinction.

Bloody hell, its headlines like this that perpetuate the stupid "culture war" that O'Reilley and his Fox Cronies like to talk about. See, if you're against the war, you must hate the soldiers, which makes you un-American. That means, you should leave.

Whatever. I wonder what the average conservative does for the troops...other than making their children orphans to secure oil and trade rights.

And one more thing:

THERE IS NO GODDAMN PROOF THAT SADDAMN HAD A GODDAMN THING TO DO WITH 9-11. We don't know who knew what, because Bush censored the damn report. I know, is from the New York Times, that bastion of Liberalism, but a few other papers seem to have forgotten that...

I should be in bed. I mean, I've been getting up at around Noon Chicago Time while I was out visiting some very dear friends, Mark 'n Jess (and Jesse and Alex 'n Becky). Granted, that would be 10 am, which isn't that bad for vacation schedule, but it does screw up one's rhythm. Also, vacation also screws up one's diet...because, lets face it, food is good. Food from places outside of your hometown--including places like Chicago, which is known for fat people and fine dining--is really good.

I may have the Mad Cow....but given that I had a Cheeseburger that had

1) Fried Egg
2) Ham
3) AND BACON

My heart may just explode.

I should also point out that Operation $800 Suit* is in complete shambles.

So, what did I do on this vacation you may ask? I saw friends. We hung out, watched Mr. Show and just chilled out. I made dinner once. That's it. I had a blast. It has been so long since I had a beer with them, talked with them face to face, or did anything with them, that a laid back weekend was friggin awesome.

What else did I do you might ask? I read a book. Paul Wellstone's book The Conscience of a Liberal book. Good god damn, that book is awesome. The late great senator has inspired me to continue with my MSW program, and possibly go on to politics. More importantly, this is the book that anyone who is interested in revitalizing American Politics needs to read--especially considering the up coming election.

I was going to put up a section of the book, but I decided against it right now. I'm too damn tired to do it right now anyway.