Last night Karl arrived at Anger Managementat 6:05 pm, there were train delays on the 2/3. The group had already started. Karl dressed way down this time, black sweat shirt, red ski cap and work boots. Blend Karl! Blend! The guys that got there early were rewarded with "Cup-O-Soup", the microwavable treat. Karl signed in and took off his jacket just as the older cuban gentleman was about to speak.
"I wasted 24 years of my life in jail. I shouldn't have killed that man." He said. The rest affirmed and exchanged comments back and forth. The councelor, Mr. L----, got the conversation back on track. "So what do you think is the best thing you got in your life now?" "Freedom, I hated being in jail" replied el señor.
The group topic was, "The Best and Worst thing in Your Life Now." It's operates a bit like SNL's Coffee Talk but with better moderation for new and repeat parolees.
They took turns around the room. The same guy from last week with the red sweater kept saying "Oh, man I don't wanna be here!" Red got a few time-outs. More men showed up, there were a toal of 18 angry parolees (Angry Druid included) by 6:30. The next guy spoke.
Worst: "I've always been angry, even as a child."
Best: "I'm proud to be independant, I don't need no one in my life."
Comment Exchange: "If you don't need no one, what are you doing here then?"
Reply: "They make me come here! I gotta be here cuz I have to be here."
He also claimed that his other good attribute was that he is well spoken. The exchange got a bit out of hand with rambling comments. For most of these men, this is a safe place to speak freely... without fear of getting stabbed in the head with a skiff fashioned from a stolen toothbrush. The Best/Worst forum picked up speed. Then it was my turn and I had nothing to say really, but I had to participate, I am required to do so.
Worst: "Somehow I've missed out, on that pot of gold."
That's right, I quoted the band Styx (Come Sail Away).
Best: "I'm a very pro-active positive person."
Mr. L--- focused on me "What do yo mean by missed out?" I paused and then babbled mindlessly. "Like I'm stuck? You know like one of you said earlier about being stuck. I kinda feel stuck. I'm behind on rent and taxes and I don't know when I'll be able catch up." Mr. L---- asked "So how do you feel about that?" "Like I keep falling behind?" I replied. I really had nothing more to add, just ackward silence. I hoped it would end there, but it went on.
Comment Exchange 1:
"What does that mean?"
"I mean I'll catch up, I have faith."
'No, I mean 'pro-aaa-kiv' what does that mean?"
"Proactive? It means actively resolving a problem."
"Oh."
"What kind of place you got then?"
"A one-bedroom."
"Damn!"
Comment Exchange 2:
"For the 99 percent of us that have been in jail... this Anger Mangement is just BULLSHIT. They made me make drawings at the last program and I all needed was a job! I got a resume, man!"
Guess that "99 percent" comment was meant for me, the 1-percent probationee. I was glad to let him take the floor. Time flew by quickly after that and it was now 7:05 pm. It's funny how the answer to confrontation for most people in the group is "beat him up first, cuz you know he desverved it." One guy confessed that he beat a man right into the ER because "[sic] he wuz actin' all stooopid an' shit, an' it pissed me off!" He seemed proud of the beating.
Another guy asked if he saw that it was wrong, because it was what put him in jail for five years. His replied that he'd do it again. News flash! Avoid this guy in the men's room line. Do not make eye contact!
The clean cut guy responsed with "And if you get busted and they catch you with rock or a weapon or something, they send you right back in jail!" That was expressed as a complaint, not a life lesson to be shared with the group.
Epilogue
What is the point of having me contribute? A lot of these guys need serious help adjusting to a pedestrian life after years in prison and/or getting off crack. I must be the only person in the group that hasn't smoked "rock" or shot up. I've killed many an Orc and a few Orges, but never a man or a tree.
I guess giving these angry men regularity and a safe place to network can't hurt. A few said they'd help teh other find work when they are done with AM. I suspect that Karft Cheese N' Crackers will not be served at AM, that little red spread-stick might be a potential wapon.
I wil not quote Styx or any other rock band again.
12 - 2= 10 AM evening sessions
Tuesday, January 31, 2006
Paper Caper
Karl met with PO L--- at around 9:30 am for Probation Report day. This completes the first month of Probation. The lobby was fairly empty, there were only two of us in the waiting area. He leafed through the J. Crew catalog that was on the bench. But this morning this dilligent Druid had his mind on sluething a Comunity Service paper caper, not misdeamenor-chic shopping. It would take more than simple prayers and a fully charged Wand of Magic detection to solve this mystery.
Mr. L--- said he'd never heard of either a Letter of Introduction or Monthly Report in all his career. He got on the phone with Mr. C----- form Community Service. They got heated and went and forth as to whose department generates which paperwork. Mr. Long handed me the phone and said "Here, talk with him."
"How come you're missing out on two weekends out of a month?!" He said angrily. "I missed out on Jan 14th, I only missed one weekend." Mr. C----- grew more defensive and annoyed.
"Well you're on warning, you missed two weekends. You also missed the 21st."
"No, I was there with eight people, the van didn't show up."
"I have 9 signatures on here but not yours."
"Did you change locations that weekend?"
"No, we always meet in East New York at Broadway."
"I don't know what to tell you, but I was there from 7:45 to 9:30 with eight people."
"Well, you're not on our sign in sheet."
The sign in sheet is a peice of paper with hand drawn lines with neither court seal nor case number. This past Saturday, January 28, I wrote my phone number next to my name. How am I supposed to prove I was there other than signing on a makeshift time sheet? Should I tell him to ask the Haitian guy with the gold teeth as proof? Mr. C----- said he's talk with Mr. B-----. gave the phone back to Mr. L---, he kept rolling his eyes saying "Uh hmm, yes, yes, well OK then." Then hung up. "Anything else?" he asked me. I had nothing to report other than I went to Anger Management with 18 guys, all newly released from prison. He laughed. "Just keep showing up to Cumminty Service, they'll figure it out sooner or later."
Ms. J----, the home appointment officer passed by the cubicle and waved at me, she said I dropped my hat in the hall way. I said "Thanks Ms. J----, how you doing." she smiled and said she was fine and went about her business at the copy machine.
I called Mr. B----- when I got back, he said he'd take of it (again). He wanted to know what happenned. I told him that Mr. L--- and Mr. C----- got into a heated conversation, all I wanted to do was get him the right papers. He said to keep it low, he just needs my case number: #KS0500000. Mr. L--- said that they should have it already. Oi.
Epilogue
I'm on warning? with Community Service?! I'm as confused as when I was lost in the cave of the Minotaur. How the hell does that work? Should I be rolling for a Detect Snares/Traps spell before I catch my Saturday train?
Early on, my theory was that a person could be in trouble and not even know it with the way things get handled here. I found this to be true. How many people become collateral damage in this inter-departmental warfare? Seems like a lot of their paper work gets shuffled like a game of "Three Card Monty." It's a good thing I keep records of all of my paper work. I'm going to start taking pictures of myself with the NY Times as proof of appointment.
This week I've reached a Probation milestone: I completed my first month. Over the course of the next 6 months, I will have two Probation Report days and one home visit per month. My next Probation Report day is February 14, Valentines Day.
Mr. L--- said he'd never heard of either a Letter of Introduction or Monthly Report in all his career. He got on the phone with Mr. C----- form Community Service. They got heated and went and forth as to whose department generates which paperwork. Mr. Long handed me the phone and said "Here, talk with him."
"How come you're missing out on two weekends out of a month?!" He said angrily. "I missed out on Jan 14th, I only missed one weekend." Mr. C----- grew more defensive and annoyed.
"Well you're on warning, you missed two weekends. You also missed the 21st."
"No, I was there with eight people, the van didn't show up."
"I have 9 signatures on here but not yours."
"Did you change locations that weekend?"
"No, we always meet in East New York at Broadway."
"I don't know what to tell you, but I was there from 7:45 to 9:30 with eight people."
"Well, you're not on our sign in sheet."
The sign in sheet is a peice of paper with hand drawn lines with neither court seal nor case number. This past Saturday, January 28, I wrote my phone number next to my name. How am I supposed to prove I was there other than signing on a makeshift time sheet? Should I tell him to ask the Haitian guy with the gold teeth as proof? Mr. C----- said he's talk with Mr. B-----. gave the phone back to Mr. L---, he kept rolling his eyes saying "Uh hmm, yes, yes, well OK then." Then hung up. "Anything else?" he asked me. I had nothing to report other than I went to Anger Management with 18 guys, all newly released from prison. He laughed. "Just keep showing up to Cumminty Service, they'll figure it out sooner or later."
Ms. J----, the home appointment officer passed by the cubicle and waved at me, she said I dropped my hat in the hall way. I said "Thanks Ms. J----, how you doing." she smiled and said she was fine and went about her business at the copy machine.
I called Mr. B----- when I got back, he said he'd take of it (again). He wanted to know what happenned. I told him that Mr. L--- and Mr. C----- got into a heated conversation, all I wanted to do was get him the right papers. He said to keep it low, he just needs my case number: #KS0500000. Mr. L--- said that they should have it already. Oi.
Epilogue
I'm on warning? with Community Service?! I'm as confused as when I was lost in the cave of the Minotaur. How the hell does that work? Should I be rolling for a Detect Snares/Traps spell before I catch my Saturday train?
Early on, my theory was that a person could be in trouble and not even know it with the way things get handled here. I found this to be true. How many people become collateral damage in this inter-departmental warfare? Seems like a lot of their paper work gets shuffled like a game of "Three Card Monty." It's a good thing I keep records of all of my paper work. I'm going to start taking pictures of myself with the NY Times as proof of appointment.
This week I've reached a Probation milestone: I completed my first month. Over the course of the next 6 months, I will have two Probation Report days and one home visit per month. My next Probation Report day is February 14, Valentines Day.
Saturday, January 28, 2006
CS: Other People's Garbage
8:00 am, another warm winter morning out in East New York. The crewmate with the gold caps, said "Hey Mon" and gave Karl the homie hand shake and a back slap. Then he said something that sounded like "babaza babaza ba?" Karl thought it might be creole, so he replied "Oui, ce va bon, messieur." 'Goldie' seemed happy with that and shuffled off with his precious metal grin. Karl has made his first 'prison buddy'.
The blue van pulled up at around 8:30 am. Mr. B----- waved, I waved back and got the others. There were now a total of 16 of us waiting at Broadway Junction station: 14 men and 2 women. Ten of us fit into the van, the rest signed off and went home. We cut through heavy traffic with a few whoooop-whoops of a police siren. Why do city folks need SUVs?
Weaving our way through deep East New York, we passed more burned out buildings, fried chicken joints and auto repair shops. The worse parts of the neighborhood have loftier street names, like Sheffield, Milford and Wyona. At one time this neighborhood was probably beautiful. You could see large stumps where trees once lined the streets. Some of the older houses have handsome stone facades and gabled windows, but they sit between empty lots and condemned buildings. We stopped at a small park by an old church cemetery near the New Lots stop (3 and 4 trains). You could see this was possibly a town square surround by homes. A dog that was chained to a hurricane fence barked at us.
Mr. B------ collected court papers from everyone, except for a few of us. "Today were gonna clean up this park, its not a big deal, I'm NOT gonna make ya pick up dog-doodie. Just get the big stuff then we can all go home. But if you get busted under my watch, you go to jail, got that?" We were handed black garbage bags. "I'm a father with two kids and I don't need trouble. Plus, I'm married to a black woman! You know what that means." he added.
The park actually wasn't so dirty, I guess it doesn't get much use in winter. I was hoping to find bullet shells. I picked up a lot of branches around the trees, as a good Druid should. Among the park trash were two press-on nails, Chinese candy wrappers, chicken bones, beads, a chop stick, hair extensions, a cuttlefish bone (I think) and plastic straws, lots and lots of plastic straws.
We finished up in about 15 minutes. I got Mr. B-----'s attention "My name is Karl, we talked on Teusday, I need to get some papers straightened out with you." He asked me who my PO was. He said my PO has to to get his supervisor to send him two forms: a Letter of Introduction and a Monthly Status Report. Until then there wasn't much he could tell me, I asked if any of my hours count towards my 70 hours. He shrugged and said "We'll have to settle this when I get your paper work. There's nothing I can tell you until then, but sign out and write down your phone number."
He's right, he has many misdemeanor cases to manage. I'm just a face with out a case number. I meet with my PO, Mr. L--- on Tuesday, he just got back from three weeks of vacation. I'll find out then.
Epilogue
Who designed the Criminal Court system anyway? Maybe it's the same jerk that invented flamable Christmas trees. Criminal Court has the dynamic of a barnacle, each department sprouts on top of another forming a headless-tailless colony of disconnected shells. Will it collapse? I hope my CS hours count, I wouldn't be surprised if they didn't. So far I've been good at filling in the blanks and catching the fallen pieces. There's an odd comfort in knowing that I'm not the only one afflicted with this. In the court room triage, it could be much worse. Not unlike the trash we picked up today, each department thinks we're another one's problem.
I try to approach each Saturday with enthusiasm that Oliver Sacks might share. Otherwise I'd probably have to shoot myself in the head. I don't expect things to happen as they were described to me at my sentencing. I'm reminded of a chidlhood experience. I sent away for the prize on a cereal box and then was horribly surprised at what I actually received in the mail: a coupon book for more stuff.
The blue van pulled up at around 8:30 am. Mr. B----- waved, I waved back and got the others. There were now a total of 16 of us waiting at Broadway Junction station: 14 men and 2 women. Ten of us fit into the van, the rest signed off and went home. We cut through heavy traffic with a few whoooop-whoops of a police siren. Why do city folks need SUVs?
Weaving our way through deep East New York, we passed more burned out buildings, fried chicken joints and auto repair shops. The worse parts of the neighborhood have loftier street names, like Sheffield, Milford and Wyona. At one time this neighborhood was probably beautiful. You could see large stumps where trees once lined the streets. Some of the older houses have handsome stone facades and gabled windows, but they sit between empty lots and condemned buildings. We stopped at a small park by an old church cemetery near the New Lots stop (3 and 4 trains). You could see this was possibly a town square surround by homes. A dog that was chained to a hurricane fence barked at us.
Mr. B------ collected court papers from everyone, except for a few of us. "Today were gonna clean up this park, its not a big deal, I'm NOT gonna make ya pick up dog-doodie. Just get the big stuff then we can all go home. But if you get busted under my watch, you go to jail, got that?" We were handed black garbage bags. "I'm a father with two kids and I don't need trouble. Plus, I'm married to a black woman! You know what that means." he added.
The park actually wasn't so dirty, I guess it doesn't get much use in winter. I was hoping to find bullet shells. I picked up a lot of branches around the trees, as a good Druid should. Among the park trash were two press-on nails, Chinese candy wrappers, chicken bones, beads, a chop stick, hair extensions, a cuttlefish bone (I think) and plastic straws, lots and lots of plastic straws.
We finished up in about 15 minutes. I got Mr. B-----'s attention "My name is Karl, we talked on Teusday, I need to get some papers straightened out with you." He asked me who my PO was. He said my PO has to to get his supervisor to send him two forms: a Letter of Introduction and a Monthly Status Report. Until then there wasn't much he could tell me, I asked if any of my hours count towards my 70 hours. He shrugged and said "We'll have to settle this when I get your paper work. There's nothing I can tell you until then, but sign out and write down your phone number."
He's right, he has many misdemeanor cases to manage. I'm just a face with out a case number. I meet with my PO, Mr. L--- on Tuesday, he just got back from three weeks of vacation. I'll find out then.
Epilogue
Who designed the Criminal Court system anyway? Maybe it's the same jerk that invented flamable Christmas trees. Criminal Court has the dynamic of a barnacle, each department sprouts on top of another forming a headless-tailless colony of disconnected shells. Will it collapse? I hope my CS hours count, I wouldn't be surprised if they didn't. So far I've been good at filling in the blanks and catching the fallen pieces. There's an odd comfort in knowing that I'm not the only one afflicted with this. In the court room triage, it could be much worse. Not unlike the trash we picked up today, each department thinks we're another one's problem.
I try to approach each Saturday with enthusiasm that Oliver Sacks might share. Otherwise I'd probably have to shoot myself in the head. I don't expect things to happen as they were described to me at my sentencing. I'm reminded of a chidlhood experience. I sent away for the prize on a cereal box and then was horribly surprised at what I actually received in the mail: a coupon book for more stuff.
Thursday, January 26, 2006
*Tail of the Werebard
The sound of rumbling and dust filled the air as the dragon flapped away. Karl awoke to the sound of his own snoring. His head felt as if it had been sent through a car wash. Where was the dragon? Was it all a weird dream or was it a sign of things to come? It was now early evening, Natzzo had been keeping vigil over Karl, the rest sharpened their weapons by the fire. Karl opened his eyes and and sat up. Natzzo called to the others "Hey! He's up, he's alright!"
"Whoa, what happenned?" Karl fell over, Verklempt helped him up. "A lot happenned while you were convalessing, Karl. If you can recall, fate rolled us a bad di, we were all swept into a flash flood after the avalanche. We saw you drifting ahead of us in a pile of branches and then you went under. Natzzo dove in after you and dragged you to shore. We thought you were a goner, my friend. Gobarth used his last two spells of healing on you."
Verklmept stood underlit by the camp fire, the flickering light caught his glassy eye. "It was nearly 24 hour ago, on a night not unlike tonight... we were set upon by the Werebard." A pregnant pause filled the air. Karl pursed his lips, he thought he caught a typo. "Did you mean a Were-BOAR?"
"No Karl! A Were-BARD!" Ah Ro Ghant exclaimed "A dangerous denizen of the Horn-rimmed Ghetto. By day this beast lurks stealthily in hipster coffee houses and dive bars, deceiving the very Bohemies that it preys upon. At night it sheds its dermal disguise to become a man-eating scourge!"
Natzzo nudged forward. "So, this fellow... he appeared from yon woods... he seemed harmless. Tall, slight build, messy bed-head hair, red gingham shirt and black rimmed spectacles. You know the kind. He claimed to be a wayfarer that became separated from his Dutch girlfreind after they were vicously attacked by rival hipsters. We offerred him food and a place around our fire just for the night. When I aksed him what was his trade, he said he was the 'keeper of the prose', a bard. Who on Middle Earth makes a living as a bard? He obliged our invitiation to stay the night, but first he had to check his cellphone for messages. He slunk back into the dark woods. That didn't make any sense, this is a dead-zone. I grew suspicious. "
Ver Klempt demonstrated with his Blackberry "See, you can't even text message from here. So he returned at night with some work in progress that he wanted us to hear. At first it all seemed harmless, maybe free of grammer, but he read his spoken word for hours: idealized romance, lofty socialism, sad sibling relations, and the like. I couldn't keep my eyes open, I simply passed out from boredom! It was Gobarth's turn to take watch."
Gobarth ranted on. "Ughhhhhh! His work was unbearable! You know, it felt as if I were being smothered by a heavy, dark blanket of pretentiousness. It was the spell of the Werebard I tell you! As I was resting my eyes I could hear everyone snoring, then the reading stopped, I peaked from the corner of my eye and sat straight up! The Werebard dropped his hardbound journal and began to shed its skin and clothing right before my eyes." Gobarth continued "There stood the Werebard! 'Its teeth that bite, it's claws that snatch...' excuse me for being so derivative, canine teeth, pale green rakish body, a long scaley whip of a tail! It dropped on all fours like a dog and started to lick at your head, Karl." He paused to catch his breath. "That's when I yelled 'Werebard! WEREBARD!' It turned and jumped on me knocking me to the ground. We struggled, I cried out for help! I could smell it's sour breath on me, it reeked of old money!"
Vickers pushed Gobarth aside. "That's when I was torn from my slumber. I thought I heard the screams of a little girl! It was Gobarth! The beast had him by his head and it started scaling up a tree. I grabbed its leg and it dropped Gobarth. Its tail stuck me across the face, then it lunged at me! It jumped from the tree onto my back and had me in a head lock! It cursed like a horney sailor as I grabbed it's head and plucked out an eye. Look!" she pulled a soft grey orb from between her décolleté and showed everyone.
Ah Ro Ghant spoke. "I was awaken by this struggle. It had you good, Vickers. I grabbed it and cut at its boney tail. It released Vickers and gave off a piercing yelp that woke everyone from their prose enduced coma. It ran off into the woods leaving its severed tail in my hand. Look here, this is how I made a long tail short... behold the tail of the Werebard!" He waved it up proudly and then scatched his back with it."I'm keeping this." he said.
Karl was stunned, all this adventure as he lay unconscious "Will it return?" he asked. "Perhaps, there might be more of them." said Klem Matoh. "All the lousy little poets coming round tryin' to sound like Charlie Manson."
"Ughhh... derivative... Cohen...." Gobarth commented "If Werebards hunt unsuccessfully, they go dormant. But they can survive for years in torpur, living off stored entitlement and a healthy trust fund." Ah Ro Ghant made a decision for the group "We'll camp here tonight with three of us keeping guard all night. Tomorrow we roll the di to decide if we continue to Teekay-Teekay."
"Stupid Werebard" said Ms. Vickers.
To be continued...
"Whoa, what happenned?" Karl fell over, Verklempt helped him up. "A lot happenned while you were convalessing, Karl. If you can recall, fate rolled us a bad di, we were all swept into a flash flood after the avalanche. We saw you drifting ahead of us in a pile of branches and then you went under. Natzzo dove in after you and dragged you to shore. We thought you were a goner, my friend. Gobarth used his last two spells of healing on you."
Verklmept stood underlit by the camp fire, the flickering light caught his glassy eye. "It was nearly 24 hour ago, on a night not unlike tonight... we were set upon by the Werebard." A pregnant pause filled the air. Karl pursed his lips, he thought he caught a typo. "Did you mean a Were-BOAR?"
"No Karl! A Were-BARD!" Ah Ro Ghant exclaimed "A dangerous denizen of the Horn-rimmed Ghetto. By day this beast lurks stealthily in hipster coffee houses and dive bars, deceiving the very Bohemies that it preys upon. At night it sheds its dermal disguise to become a man-eating scourge!"
Natzzo nudged forward. "So, this fellow... he appeared from yon woods... he seemed harmless. Tall, slight build, messy bed-head hair, red gingham shirt and black rimmed spectacles. You know the kind. He claimed to be a wayfarer that became separated from his Dutch girlfreind after they were vicously attacked by rival hipsters. We offerred him food and a place around our fire just for the night. When I aksed him what was his trade, he said he was the 'keeper of the prose', a bard. Who on Middle Earth makes a living as a bard? He obliged our invitiation to stay the night, but first he had to check his cellphone for messages. He slunk back into the dark woods. That didn't make any sense, this is a dead-zone. I grew suspicious. "
Ver Klempt demonstrated with his Blackberry "See, you can't even text message from here. So he returned at night with some work in progress that he wanted us to hear. At first it all seemed harmless, maybe free of grammer, but he read his spoken word for hours: idealized romance, lofty socialism, sad sibling relations, and the like. I couldn't keep my eyes open, I simply passed out from boredom! It was Gobarth's turn to take watch."
Gobarth ranted on. "Ughhhhhh! His work was unbearable! You know, it felt as if I were being smothered by a heavy, dark blanket of pretentiousness. It was the spell of the Werebard I tell you! As I was resting my eyes I could hear everyone snoring, then the reading stopped, I peaked from the corner of my eye and sat straight up! The Werebard dropped his hardbound journal and began to shed its skin and clothing right before my eyes." Gobarth continued "There stood the Werebard! 'Its teeth that bite, it's claws that snatch...' excuse me for being so derivative, canine teeth, pale green rakish body, a long scaley whip of a tail! It dropped on all fours like a dog and started to lick at your head, Karl." He paused to catch his breath. "That's when I yelled 'Werebard! WEREBARD!' It turned and jumped on me knocking me to the ground. We struggled, I cried out for help! I could smell it's sour breath on me, it reeked of old money!"
Vickers pushed Gobarth aside. "That's when I was torn from my slumber. I thought I heard the screams of a little girl! It was Gobarth! The beast had him by his head and it started scaling up a tree. I grabbed its leg and it dropped Gobarth. Its tail stuck me across the face, then it lunged at me! It jumped from the tree onto my back and had me in a head lock! It cursed like a horney sailor as I grabbed it's head and plucked out an eye. Look!" she pulled a soft grey orb from between her décolleté and showed everyone.
Ah Ro Ghant spoke. "I was awaken by this struggle. It had you good, Vickers. I grabbed it and cut at its boney tail. It released Vickers and gave off a piercing yelp that woke everyone from their prose enduced coma. It ran off into the woods leaving its severed tail in my hand. Look here, this is how I made a long tail short... behold the tail of the Werebard!" He waved it up proudly and then scatched his back with it."I'm keeping this." he said.
Karl was stunned, all this adventure as he lay unconscious "Will it return?" he asked. "Perhaps, there might be more of them." said Klem Matoh. "All the lousy little poets coming round tryin' to sound like Charlie Manson."
"Ughhh... derivative... Cohen...." Gobarth commented "If Werebards hunt unsuccessfully, they go dormant. But they can survive for years in torpur, living off stored entitlement and a healthy trust fund." Ah Ro Ghant made a decision for the group "We'll camp here tonight with three of us keeping guard all night. Tomorrow we roll the di to decide if we continue to Teekay-Teekay."
"Stupid Werebard" said Ms. Vickers.
To be continued...
Wednesday, January 25, 2006
Do You See What IC?
Today was Karl's first day of Anger Management: Individual Council, or for those in the know, IC. He splurged and took a cab since his knee was still hurting from that ice skating epsiode. On his way to the building he noticed two men from Monday evening's group session. He nodded at them, they stared back blankly. Note: Karl, stop being so friendly, they think you're a narc! Karl has accepted that he has to fullfil this Anger Management course, its the law.
I was a little late, the morning traffic on Flatbush was backed up from Grand Army all the way to the Manhattan Bridge. "Hey Karl, hang on, I'll be right with you!" Mr. L---- was on the phone. I passed by the basket of free LifeStyle™ condoms at the front desk and took a seat. I noticed that the condom pile was smaller than before. The slogan should be "I'm Stylin' with LifeStyle™".
Note: On Monday evening Karl mistook the condoms in the basket for a pile mints, so he grabbed a greedy handful as he passed the front desk. The guy next to him pointed and made a face, so Karl gave him a few, which was even more ackward than just grabbing a handful of condoms. So Karl returned the rest to basket, pat the pile back in place, and walked out the door.
Mr. L---- called me in, he had my case file open, he asked me what I thought of Monday evening's AM session. I spoke frankly, "Most of these guys are just out of jail and sound like they're in rehab. I don't have much to contribute to this group." He confirmed that yes they were all kicking some form of drug habit, but insisted again that I was here for a reason. He showed me my file and pointed to area that read "Domestic Violence".
I thought to myself Oh, not again. Didn't we go through this at intake? "I'm NOT domestically violent" I insisted. "I live alone, who am I going domestic on?" Mr. L---- reviewed the court papers, looked at the other boxes for drug/violence history. "Oh that's right... you Karl... no drugs... no violence. Yeah, the court doesn't state any specific reason for you other than Anger Management Mandated by Judge. Why would he do a thing like that?" I replied "A career judge wants to be an Appeals Judge, he threw this in at my sentencing day."
Goodly judge D--------- gave Karl the gift of Anger Management and drug testing, saying he would benefit from it. Benefit? This is not a free I-pod! Taking pause, Karl put a hand to his face and in silent prayer wished the judge cancer again. With the other hand he reached into his bindle crushing a sprig of holly to evoke the spell. "Golf-ball-size tumors..." he mutterred. He'll pray for the other three later.
"Well I have to put down something and list a reason for you being here, otherwise you'll have to leave this program and find another one." The thought of calling RDU, refiling papers and running around again was making me sick. "How's this, put down Anger Management Mandated by Judge D---------." He thought about it, nodded in agreement and wrote it down. He crossed out Domestic violence.
"OK, so what do you think you need to work on?"
"I gave this a lot of thought, I'd like to quit smoking. Do you have anything for that in this program?"
"Yeah of course we do, anything you need, Karl."
"I'm back up to two packs a day and I think its just time to stop, but I can't do this on my own. I need some help."
"You stressed?"
"Well yeah, I'd say I'm stressed."
We talked about different methods of stopping, from the patch to cold turkey. He said he'd get me more information and wrote down "Needs to quit smoking" in the box marked Reason. The next client knocked on the wall and announced himself. I put on my scarf and got up from the chair. Mr. L---- insisted again that if I didn't have an anger problem, this wouldn't have happenned. He motioned to a copy of the complainant's report (the ECAB). Now here are two folks that could use some Clock-Work-Orange-style AM and thorough drug testing: that lying sack-o-cow-fertilizer and her psycho boyfreind.
Epilogue
So far AM has been fairly harmless. But as with all my court matters, I have to keep re-stating my case and insisting on it. Apparently Mandated by Judge without having a previous history of drugs and violence is not the usual road to Anger Management. It always seems that Mr. L---- has to prompt me with a question so that he can fill in an entry into a box on a grid. He always starts off with a personal story like "I was hooked on (name of substance) too." I thought I was once addicted to nasal spray, but that doesn't trump a heroin story.
If I can quit smoking through some program I think I will have made some worth of my time. BATF would be happy, my parents would be happy, and I'd feel like I worked with the program.
So why am I really here? Progress report: 6 - 1 = 5 IC sessions.
I was a little late, the morning traffic on Flatbush was backed up from Grand Army all the way to the Manhattan Bridge. "Hey Karl, hang on, I'll be right with you!" Mr. L---- was on the phone. I passed by the basket of free LifeStyle™ condoms at the front desk and took a seat. I noticed that the condom pile was smaller than before. The slogan should be "I'm Stylin' with LifeStyle™".
Note: On Monday evening Karl mistook the condoms in the basket for a pile mints, so he grabbed a greedy handful as he passed the front desk. The guy next to him pointed and made a face, so Karl gave him a few, which was even more ackward than just grabbing a handful of condoms. So Karl returned the rest to basket, pat the pile back in place, and walked out the door.
Mr. L---- called me in, he had my case file open, he asked me what I thought of Monday evening's AM session. I spoke frankly, "Most of these guys are just out of jail and sound like they're in rehab. I don't have much to contribute to this group." He confirmed that yes they were all kicking some form of drug habit, but insisted again that I was here for a reason. He showed me my file and pointed to area that read "Domestic Violence".
I thought to myself Oh, not again. Didn't we go through this at intake? "I'm NOT domestically violent" I insisted. "I live alone, who am I going domestic on?" Mr. L---- reviewed the court papers, looked at the other boxes for drug/violence history. "Oh that's right... you Karl... no drugs... no violence. Yeah, the court doesn't state any specific reason for you other than Anger Management Mandated by Judge. Why would he do a thing like that?" I replied "A career judge wants to be an Appeals Judge, he threw this in at my sentencing day."
Goodly judge D--------- gave Karl the gift of Anger Management and drug testing, saying he would benefit from it. Benefit? This is not a free I-pod! Taking pause, Karl put a hand to his face and in silent prayer wished the judge cancer again. With the other hand he reached into his bindle crushing a sprig of holly to evoke the spell. "Golf-ball-size tumors..." he mutterred. He'll pray for the other three later.
"Well I have to put down something and list a reason for you being here, otherwise you'll have to leave this program and find another one." The thought of calling RDU, refiling papers and running around again was making me sick. "How's this, put down Anger Management Mandated by Judge D---------." He thought about it, nodded in agreement and wrote it down. He crossed out Domestic violence.
"OK, so what do you think you need to work on?"
"I gave this a lot of thought, I'd like to quit smoking. Do you have anything for that in this program?"
"Yeah of course we do, anything you need, Karl."
"I'm back up to two packs a day and I think its just time to stop, but I can't do this on my own. I need some help."
"You stressed?"
"Well yeah, I'd say I'm stressed."
We talked about different methods of stopping, from the patch to cold turkey. He said he'd get me more information and wrote down "Needs to quit smoking" in the box marked Reason. The next client knocked on the wall and announced himself. I put on my scarf and got up from the chair. Mr. L---- insisted again that if I didn't have an anger problem, this wouldn't have happenned. He motioned to a copy of the complainant's report (the ECAB). Now here are two folks that could use some Clock-Work-Orange-style AM and thorough drug testing: that lying sack-o-cow-fertilizer and her psycho boyfreind.
Epilogue
So far AM has been fairly harmless. But as with all my court matters, I have to keep re-stating my case and insisting on it. Apparently Mandated by Judge without having a previous history of drugs and violence is not the usual road to Anger Management. It always seems that Mr. L---- has to prompt me with a question so that he can fill in an entry into a box on a grid. He always starts off with a personal story like "I was hooked on (name of substance) too." I thought I was once addicted to nasal spray, but that doesn't trump a heroin story.
If I can quit smoking through some program I think I will have made some worth of my time. BATF would be happy, my parents would be happy, and I'd feel like I worked with the program.
So why am I really here? Progress report: 6 - 1 = 5 IC sessions.
Tuesday, January 24, 2006
CS: Missed Connections
Soooooo. It turns out that my Community Service papers are NOT in order. Mr. B----- called me back this morning and said that he couldn't get in touch with my because my PO, Mr. L--- is still out on vacation. The paper work that supervisor S----- gave me was only one part of another stack that my PO had not processed before leaving on vacation. According to Mr. B----, he himself has to mange 60 people on his crew, so things can get rough. I actually appreciated him calling me back. I never expect anyone in the system to make good their word. He said that he'd take care of the paperwork before Saturday. I guess last weekend did not count. Does any of this count? I'm too afraid to ask, guess I'll find out on Saturday. This whole thing so far has been like hearding cats. You think you got one back in it's pen only to find two more got out.
Eplilogue
My feelings about all this are so stoic, that they can only be described as Tutonic. Aaaach! Habe ich jetzt viel Zorn? Vielleicht. Diese ist ein anderes Kopfschmerzen. Will I ever see the wisdom the judge D---------'s mandation of Anger Management? Ja, wann die Affen fliegen aus meine Hinterteile!
There seems to be no uber-plan in the court system. It's just another way to spend court time and tax dollars. Time tends to slip away from us and we can never recover the time lost. People ask, "where did the time go?". You'll never find lost time on the back of a milk carton begging to be found. Time is also not recycleable. Time is precious, though it means nothing to someone who does not give it value. Hast jemand etwas Zeit? Nichts vielleicht.
Eplilogue
My feelings about all this are so stoic, that they can only be described as Tutonic. Aaaach! Habe ich jetzt viel Zorn? Vielleicht. Diese ist ein anderes Kopfschmerzen. Will I ever see the wisdom the judge D---------'s mandation of Anger Management? Ja, wann die Affen fliegen aus meine Hinterteile!
There seems to be no uber-plan in the court system. It's just another way to spend court time and tax dollars. Time tends to slip away from us and we can never recover the time lost. People ask, "where did the time go?". You'll never find lost time on the back of a milk carton begging to be found. Time is also not recycleable. Time is precious, though it means nothing to someone who does not give it value. Hast jemand etwas Zeit? Nichts vielleicht.
Monday, January 23, 2006
The First Wave of Anger
Karl arrived at BATF a little early it was about 5:30 pm. He called Mr. L---- earlier to make sure they still had an Anger Mangement meeting. At this point he doesn't really belive that any court matter happens the way it was described to him earlier. "Hey, Mr. Karl, how you doin'. Just go in there and sign yourself in." He motioned at the large room where three angry men were already seated. By 6:00 pm the room started to fill with people, a total of 16 men of varied ages and ethnicity. They sat in smaller groups: muslims, Puerto Ricans, Jamaicans... and then Karl, the Druid. Some of them knew each other from previous programs.
Week 1, The Rules:
Program Overview, Getting to Know You
One thing became apparent to me: I was the only guy not wearing construction boots, a plaid shirt and gold jewelry. A few of them spoke casually about being clean or off the stuff. One guy with the do-rag said "What's the point, they just keep sending me back to programs." This felt like the first ackward day of kindergaren, but more sinister. They all had prison/parole stories to exchange, I had none. I wanted to tell them about the Naga's lair. Another guy who just got out of prison had a great things to report: He's in a group home in Williamsburg (trendy); he recieves $1,000.00 a month to sweep streets; he has a clean room with a big flat-screen TV; and he's also in a job placement program. You go, former meth-guy!
Mr. L---- started the meeting. "This is orientation night so we might get out early. I have two speakers this evening who have some things to give you, but let's go over a few things first." He reviewed the group rules and enforced that we will have repsect for each other, or we wil be removed from the program. He went over the Bill of Rights that we were handed, all sessions are confidential, etc. He said that if we miss a session with out making arrangements we would automatically be disqualified from the program. Since this program is mandated by Criminal Court we would have to face the judge.
Oi vey, again with the judge. I state again, I don't really want to see the goodly judge D-------- again, unless I can see that he now has large visible tumors on his face and body.
As Mr. L---- called our names from the sign in sheet, we each picked our Individual Council days, I picked Wednesday from 9 to 10 am. I can get a bacon n' egg sandwich before hand. We must complete 6 ICs over three months in addition to the 12 group meetings. We had two speakers tongiht: Speaker One gave us free key chains and pens and drug discounts for HIV and Hep C. Speaker two gave us information on free/cheap insurance for those who have none. I kept her card, I might need some dental work.
All seemed like they just wanted to get this over, without a hitch. Mr. L---- asked. "Who of you has an anger problem?" One guy raised his hand. "Who thinks they don't have an anger problem?" Two men raised their hands, I raised my spear. "Who gets angry now and then?" We all raised our hands, including the guest speakers.
Week 1, The Rules:
Program Overview, Getting to Know You
One thing became apparent to me: I was the only guy not wearing construction boots, a plaid shirt and gold jewelry. A few of them spoke casually about being clean or off the stuff. One guy with the do-rag said "What's the point, they just keep sending me back to programs." This felt like the first ackward day of kindergaren, but more sinister. They all had prison/parole stories to exchange, I had none. I wanted to tell them about the Naga's lair. Another guy who just got out of prison had a great things to report: He's in a group home in Williamsburg (trendy); he recieves $1,000.00 a month to sweep streets; he has a clean room with a big flat-screen TV; and he's also in a job placement program. You go, former meth-guy!
Mr. L---- started the meeting. "This is orientation night so we might get out early. I have two speakers this evening who have some things to give you, but let's go over a few things first." He reviewed the group rules and enforced that we will have repsect for each other, or we wil be removed from the program. He went over the Bill of Rights that we were handed, all sessions are confidential, etc. He said that if we miss a session with out making arrangements we would automatically be disqualified from the program. Since this program is mandated by Criminal Court we would have to face the judge.
Oi vey, again with the judge. I state again, I don't really want to see the goodly judge D-------- again, unless I can see that he now has large visible tumors on his face and body.
As Mr. L---- called our names from the sign in sheet, we each picked our Individual Council days, I picked Wednesday from 9 to 10 am. I can get a bacon n' egg sandwich before hand. We must complete 6 ICs over three months in addition to the 12 group meetings. We had two speakers tongiht: Speaker One gave us free key chains and pens and drug discounts for HIV and Hep C. Speaker two gave us information on free/cheap insurance for those who have none. I kept her card, I might need some dental work.
All seemed like they just wanted to get this over, without a hitch. Mr. L---- asked. "Who of you has an anger problem?" One guy raised his hand. "Who thinks they don't have an anger problem?" Two men raised their hands, I raised my spear. "Who gets angry now and then?" We all raised our hands, including the guest speakers.
So we are in fact the men's group. We will relate as men and do manly things. I hope they don't make us do talking drum session. Mr. L---- said that we need to bond and exchange as men. He offerred other bonuses for another session: How to get a NY State ID lessons; possible field trip (to where?); pizza; and possible stress massage. Oh dear lord! Please don't let them touch me. So far the only thing that applies to me is "pizza". He warmed up next week's speaker: "He has 11 counts of felony and he's coming back strong, let's put our hands together for (name here)."
Epilogue
The meeting ended early at around 7:00 pm. It wasn't very eventful. Maybe not even blog-worthy. I shook Mr. L----'s hand and said I'd see him Wednesday morning. Although neither speaker topics apply to me, I still kept the key chain and pen, Gobarth will be green with envy when I show the group my Anger Management loot! These chochkees beat a poison amulet any day. I wished they had a T-shirt that read "I have HIV, and all they gave me was this lousy T-shirt?"
I'd wear one. Wouldn't you?
So why the hell am I here? Oh, that's right: 12 - 1 = 11 group meetings.
Saturday, January 21, 2006
Service with a Snarl
It was unseasonably warm for a January morning. The sky was bright and copper colored, two seagulls fought loudy over a piece of fried chicken as they dodged in and out of the early morning traffic. Usually Karl would stay and watch but he walked briskly towards the train with his mind on making the 8:00 am Community Service van.
I arrived at Broadway Junction at 7:45 am and waited in front of the station reading my book. I tried to blend in more by dressing in early rehab-wear: ski-cap, grey hoodie and distressed jeans. The one Irish kid from the first Community Service Saturday stood by the fire plug reading the paper. We acknowledged each other with a nod and continued to ignore each other. By around 8:15 there were eight of us; without saying much we all took turns looking for the blue van walking up and down the street. I broke the ice, I asked the Jamaican-ish guy with the gold caps and army fatigues if he was here last week, explaining that I missed a CS day.
"Oh yeh, mon, all we deed was sign da pehper and go home." he said with a thick island accent. I'm always curious as to what they did to get here, but I know better than to ask that. The situation is bad enough and I don't really want to make any buddies here.
The traffic at the Junction station is always harried and heavy it seems, with people pouring in and out of the narrow station entrance like ants from a hill gone awry: bus drivers guiding people to their missed transfers; policemen parking and re-arranging their vehicles and equipment; car services competing with dollar vans for passengers. A hand scrawled sign boldly stated "NO L TRAIN", but offered no transit options. In general, people here scowl, except for the Japanese people who were looking for the train-to-the-plane, ID lanyards flapping and luggage in tow. There's always the ubiquitous German who stands out like a sore thumb with a back pack and cell phone. I've come to believe Germans are just everywhere.
One thing I noticed about East New York is that a lot of people here have messed-up teeth. I watched a crazy man yell at the sidwewalk pretending to sweep the street with his cane. I could see that he was missing all his front teeth. A young latina nother asked me for a light, she was missing all the right lower molars. The irish kid had over lapping bicupsids.
By around 9:00 am, the one woman on the crew became agitated and exclaimed "I f****** got up dis early and f******" Mr. B----- aint even here. He aint gonna play me, I'm f******" gettin' outta here! F*** him! the motha f*****!" She is a lady but I think she doesn't realize it yet. One guy said we were his witnesses and he has to go pick up his kid, he must have been 20. So where was the kid, locked up in a car? I'm still the oldest guy in the bunch.
The guy with the gold caps gave me a number to call that he got from RDU, I recognized it as the general information line ("If you've been convicted as a felon, press one...") I told him that the offices were closed on Saturday so he won't get a reply today. He rolled his eyes and said "Shhh. Blood clot! Why do dey even give us dis numba to call den!" I was getting pretty agrivated myself. I could see the disappointment grow in my face in the reflection of each passing bus. My sprained knee was killing too me and there was no place to sit.
I left at 9:30 am, heeding Mr. B-----'s previous warning about "staying off the streets". I waved goodbye to the guy with gold capped teeth as we parted ways.
Epilogue
What does one do when the system has no system? Nothing in the court system seems serve the people, even the ones that they mean to punish. One department has no idea how to work with the next department. Maybe it works in the way as pirates do: by their own pirate code within their own pirate fiefdoms. I got home and left a message at the general RDU number as I did last week. I have no idea if this Saturday even counts as CS day. I worry about how long this can actually drag on. Tomorrow starts my first session with Anger Management, I can only hope for regular irregularity, but keep real expectations.
I arrived at Broadway Junction at 7:45 am and waited in front of the station reading my book. I tried to blend in more by dressing in early rehab-wear: ski-cap, grey hoodie and distressed jeans. The one Irish kid from the first Community Service Saturday stood by the fire plug reading the paper. We acknowledged each other with a nod and continued to ignore each other. By around 8:15 there were eight of us; without saying much we all took turns looking for the blue van walking up and down the street. I broke the ice, I asked the Jamaican-ish guy with the gold caps and army fatigues if he was here last week, explaining that I missed a CS day.
"Oh yeh, mon, all we deed was sign da pehper and go home." he said with a thick island accent. I'm always curious as to what they did to get here, but I know better than to ask that. The situation is bad enough and I don't really want to make any buddies here.
The traffic at the Junction station is always harried and heavy it seems, with people pouring in and out of the narrow station entrance like ants from a hill gone awry: bus drivers guiding people to their missed transfers; policemen parking and re-arranging their vehicles and equipment; car services competing with dollar vans for passengers. A hand scrawled sign boldly stated "NO L TRAIN", but offered no transit options. In general, people here scowl, except for the Japanese people who were looking for the train-to-the-plane, ID lanyards flapping and luggage in tow. There's always the ubiquitous German who stands out like a sore thumb with a back pack and cell phone. I've come to believe Germans are just everywhere.
One thing I noticed about East New York is that a lot of people here have messed-up teeth. I watched a crazy man yell at the sidwewalk pretending to sweep the street with his cane. I could see that he was missing all his front teeth. A young latina nother asked me for a light, she was missing all the right lower molars. The irish kid had over lapping bicupsids.
By around 9:00 am, the one woman on the crew became agitated and exclaimed "I f****** got up dis early and f******" Mr. B----- aint even here. He aint gonna play me, I'm f******" gettin' outta here! F*** him! the motha f*****!" She is a lady but I think she doesn't realize it yet. One guy said we were his witnesses and he has to go pick up his kid, he must have been 20. So where was the kid, locked up in a car? I'm still the oldest guy in the bunch.
The guy with the gold caps gave me a number to call that he got from RDU, I recognized it as the general information line ("If you've been convicted as a felon, press one...") I told him that the offices were closed on Saturday so he won't get a reply today. He rolled his eyes and said "Shhh. Blood clot! Why do dey even give us dis numba to call den!" I was getting pretty agrivated myself. I could see the disappointment grow in my face in the reflection of each passing bus. My sprained knee was killing too me and there was no place to sit.
I left at 9:30 am, heeding Mr. B-----'s previous warning about "staying off the streets". I waved goodbye to the guy with gold capped teeth as we parted ways.
Epilogue
What does one do when the system has no system? Nothing in the court system seems serve the people, even the ones that they mean to punish. One department has no idea how to work with the next department. Maybe it works in the way as pirates do: by their own pirate code within their own pirate fiefdoms. I got home and left a message at the general RDU number as I did last week. I have no idea if this Saturday even counts as CS day. I worry about how long this can actually drag on. Tomorrow starts my first session with Anger Management, I can only hope for regular irregularity, but keep real expectations.
Thursday, January 19, 2006
*Enter, the Dragon
There are many types of dragons: Dragonne, Firedrakes, and Pseudodragons, to name a few. Some are cat-size and others, simply gargantuan. Regardles of color and temperment, the one most feared are those that speak. Beasts that grunt and howl can be conquered and defeated. But how does one defeat a creature that has reason and logic? Sometimes the Dragon might appear in the fog of a waking dream or as a trick played on wide-open eyes.
"Oh, pleeeeeasssse get up" the dagon said. It picked Karl up by his hood and placed him standing. "So, why are you here?" the Dragon asked spitting each syllable out like cherry pits. "I have no idea... mandated by fate perhaps? I'd like to ask you the same question." Karl said. "No, no, no. Let's play this game. I'll ask you questions and you answer them. You're here for a reason, so you might as well tell me now." The dragon pulled up a chair for Karl and motioned him to sit down. "Or what you'll fry me up and eat my heart out?" asked Karl.
"Tsk, tsk. That's not very sporting. Looking at you I'd say you're more a stewing Druid, than a fryer. So tell me Druid, what is your name?"
"Karl the Druid... capital K, capital D."
"So tell me Karl, you're making a face at me, are you angry?"
"No! I'm in pain and I'm frightenned and confused!"
"I seeeee. You know where this fear comes from?"
"The dark unknown? desperate uncertainty?"
The dragon held it's scaley claws to it's chest and in a slow dispassionate voice said "No, Karl, it comes from here." The dragon put on his glasses and took out a long-leaf notebook and a pen. "Let's get this started, I have an eleven o'clock appointment scheduled for this morning. Ready?"
"Do you or your parents have a drug history?" "No."
"Do you wake up angry?" "No."
"Have you ever been in abusive relationship?" "I was engaged to an alchoholic."
"Hmmmmm. I'll take that as a YES."
"Have you ever been arrested before?" "No."
"Are you employed?" "Yes"
"What do you do for a living?"
"Freelance adventurer."
"Do you live in an apartment or home." "One bedroom apartment."
"You live alone? " "Yes."
The questionaire ended after an hour, the dragon quickly reviewed his notes. "So I think you're either here by mistake or you're just a damn good liar. I'm putting down Mandated by Fate as your reason for being here. You sure you're not angry?" "No, I'm not angry. Hey, what do you do with all this information anyway?" "I just fax it in, I only ask the questions."
Handing Karl printed instructions with the Kings County court seal the dragon said. "I have to make my eleven o'clock. Take these and sign here, date this, sign here too. Make a copy and hand this in when you show up, be sure to keep the original. Be there at 8:00 am sharp and wait for a blue van in front of the station." With a brisk start, the dragon streched its wings and flew up into the morning sky leaving Karl behind.
"Wait! Where do I make copies around here!" Karl stood there leafing through his papers, he noticed there was no phone number, address or e-mail. He let out a loud sigh.
To be continued...
"Oh, pleeeeeasssse get up" the dagon said. It picked Karl up by his hood and placed him standing. "So, why are you here?" the Dragon asked spitting each syllable out like cherry pits. "I have no idea... mandated by fate perhaps? I'd like to ask you the same question." Karl said. "No, no, no. Let's play this game. I'll ask you questions and you answer them. You're here for a reason, so you might as well tell me now." The dragon pulled up a chair for Karl and motioned him to sit down. "Or what you'll fry me up and eat my heart out?" asked Karl.
"Tsk, tsk. That's not very sporting. Looking at you I'd say you're more a stewing Druid, than a fryer. So tell me Druid, what is your name?"
"Karl the Druid... capital K, capital D."
"So tell me Karl, you're making a face at me, are you angry?"
"No! I'm in pain and I'm frightenned and confused!"
"I seeeee. You know where this fear comes from?"
"The dark unknown? desperate uncertainty?"
The dragon held it's scaley claws to it's chest and in a slow dispassionate voice said "No, Karl, it comes from here." The dragon put on his glasses and took out a long-leaf notebook and a pen. "Let's get this started, I have an eleven o'clock appointment scheduled for this morning. Ready?"
"Do you or your parents have a drug history?" "No."
"Do you wake up angry?" "No."
"Have you ever been in abusive relationship?" "I was engaged to an alchoholic."
"Hmmmmm. I'll take that as a YES."
"Have you ever been arrested before?" "No."
"Are you employed?" "Yes"
"What do you do for a living?"
"Freelance adventurer."
"Do you live in an apartment or home." "One bedroom apartment."
"You live alone? " "Yes."
The questionaire ended after an hour, the dragon quickly reviewed his notes. "So I think you're either here by mistake or you're just a damn good liar. I'm putting down Mandated by Fate as your reason for being here. You sure you're not angry?" "No, I'm not angry. Hey, what do you do with all this information anyway?" "I just fax it in, I only ask the questions."
Handing Karl printed instructions with the Kings County court seal the dragon said. "I have to make my eleven o'clock. Take these and sign here, date this, sign here too. Make a copy and hand this in when you show up, be sure to keep the original. Be there at 8:00 am sharp and wait for a blue van in front of the station." With a brisk start, the dragon streched its wings and flew up into the morning sky leaving Karl behind.
"Wait! Where do I make copies around here!" Karl stood there leafing through his papers, he noticed there was no phone number, address or e-mail. He let out a loud sigh.
To be continued...
Tuesday, January 17, 2006
*The Road to TeeKay-TeeKay
The troup was in mid-trek over a high mountain pass. Their destination: TeeKay-TeeKay, the seedy port town of pirates. Karl and Natzzo followed the group steadying the three-months worth of supplies that were strapped to the pack animals. The pace was slow but certain and the air had a sweet, clean scent. "Ouch!" said Karl as he grabbed his chest. "Hang on guys, I got a lung cramp." Natzzo asked "Is your left arm numb?" Massaging the left side of his chest through his hide-jacket he replied "It's not a heart attack, I don't think." "I think its the right arm that's supposed to go numb" said Gobarth.
"Does it feel like someone kicked you in the chest?" asked Ver Klempt. "Nah," said Karl "It's just a lung cramp. Maybe it's just stress." "How stressed out can a Druid be? You need a regular excercise program!" Ah Ro Ghant exclaimed. Karl lit a cigarette and nodded.
The calm was broken, Ms. Vickers jumped up to the next plateau waving frantically. Her voice broke the frigid air. "BOYS! Dig yourselves in and tie the animals down!" A mid-day snow storm was fast approaching. Karl and Natzzo teathered the animals to a large tree stump and ran over the next hill. Everyone scrambled for cover, the wind pelted them with snow, rocks and sand. As the blue sky turned to the color of fresh calve's liver, thunder and lightning took command of the mountain. Finding his way under a ledge, Karl lashed himself to a rock. The wind howled like a wounded animal and poured a bank of snow into the crevice where Karl sought safety. The blinding snow went black and Karl could not move his arms or legs. In a matter of minutes Karl was burried alive.
Which way was up? or down? All sense of gravity and time was lost. Hours passed, it seemed. He wondered if he was dead or dreaming. From above he heard muffled voices and tapping. In the small space he dug with his chin he yelled "Hey! I'm alive!" The picking hastenned. A soft rumbling shook the ground and the picking stopped. The ground shook open and Karl saw daylight peak between falling chunks of snow. He took in the fresh air and continued to scream "I'm alive! I'm alive!" But the rumbling didn't stop, it grew louder until Karl could no longer hear himself scream. Snow and rocks pushed at his shoulders until the rope lashing came loose. He was now tumbling in the wake of an avalanche.
His fear was white hot! His back scraped down the rocky path as he curled into a ball clenching his eyes and mouth shut. When the rumbling stopped he found himself half-burried, but conscious, near the foot of the range, the troup was nowhere in sight. He kicked his way out of the rocks and snow with his legs and pulled himself free with his arms. He was in pain but he didn't know how badly he was hurt. He limped into a near by stream to wash his wounds clean. As he wadded in the water a rock hit him in the leg as it passed by, then water turned to silt. To the north he could see the roots of large tree knocking its way around the bend speeding towards him in a wall of water. It sounded like a stampede of horses. He tried to run but water rose up to his chest. The avalanche had unleashed the fury of a flash flood.
An island of debrit crashed into him and he clung for dear life. He held his breath each time he went under. Losing his grip he slipped under the mass of roots, rocks and branches. Water rushed into his nose and eyes. He let out a loud gasp as he was tossed about by the current. His hit points were now dangerously low, he lost 17 and was down to only 12. His mind went as muddy as the water did and then he went blank.
The Grassy Knoll
Karl awoke on a thick mound of dried grass. "Aghhh!" his left arm was broken. Holding his arm against his body he rolled off the mound limping, looking for something he could make into to sling. As the sun rose he quickly surveyed the area. "What manner of place is this?" The land was flat and arid, like a steppe in drought, the air was hot and still. There were no hills except for the mound of dried grass. Using his good arm, Karl sat next to the mound tying his broken arm tight to his body with his belt. The mound began to move. Karl jumped up and turned around to look behind him.
A large boney head craned upwards from the tawny mound. "Dragon?" muttered Karl in wide-eyed disbelief. It rolled over stretching and yawning like a cat, fluffing the thick fur on its back. Its moss-edged wings reached upwards casting long shadows on the ground. From its mouth, the tangy scent of rusted metal rode out on its hot breath. "Good morning, Druid." The dragon's voice vibrated through Karl's chest. Paralyzed with fear he fell over. "Oh damn! This isn't the way I planned on going. Maybe a small ceremony with freinds and a little nosh, but not like this." thought Karl.
To be continued...
"Does it feel like someone kicked you in the chest?" asked Ver Klempt. "Nah," said Karl "It's just a lung cramp. Maybe it's just stress." "How stressed out can a Druid be? You need a regular excercise program!" Ah Ro Ghant exclaimed. Karl lit a cigarette and nodded.
The calm was broken, Ms. Vickers jumped up to the next plateau waving frantically. Her voice broke the frigid air. "BOYS! Dig yourselves in and tie the animals down!" A mid-day snow storm was fast approaching. Karl and Natzzo teathered the animals to a large tree stump and ran over the next hill. Everyone scrambled for cover, the wind pelted them with snow, rocks and sand. As the blue sky turned to the color of fresh calve's liver, thunder and lightning took command of the mountain. Finding his way under a ledge, Karl lashed himself to a rock. The wind howled like a wounded animal and poured a bank of snow into the crevice where Karl sought safety. The blinding snow went black and Karl could not move his arms or legs. In a matter of minutes Karl was burried alive.
Which way was up? or down? All sense of gravity and time was lost. Hours passed, it seemed. He wondered if he was dead or dreaming. From above he heard muffled voices and tapping. In the small space he dug with his chin he yelled "Hey! I'm alive!" The picking hastenned. A soft rumbling shook the ground and the picking stopped. The ground shook open and Karl saw daylight peak between falling chunks of snow. He took in the fresh air and continued to scream "I'm alive! I'm alive!" But the rumbling didn't stop, it grew louder until Karl could no longer hear himself scream. Snow and rocks pushed at his shoulders until the rope lashing came loose. He was now tumbling in the wake of an avalanche.
His fear was white hot! His back scraped down the rocky path as he curled into a ball clenching his eyes and mouth shut. When the rumbling stopped he found himself half-burried, but conscious, near the foot of the range, the troup was nowhere in sight. He kicked his way out of the rocks and snow with his legs and pulled himself free with his arms. He was in pain but he didn't know how badly he was hurt. He limped into a near by stream to wash his wounds clean. As he wadded in the water a rock hit him in the leg as it passed by, then water turned to silt. To the north he could see the roots of large tree knocking its way around the bend speeding towards him in a wall of water. It sounded like a stampede of horses. He tried to run but water rose up to his chest. The avalanche had unleashed the fury of a flash flood.
An island of debrit crashed into him and he clung for dear life. He held his breath each time he went under. Losing his grip he slipped under the mass of roots, rocks and branches. Water rushed into his nose and eyes. He let out a loud gasp as he was tossed about by the current. His hit points were now dangerously low, he lost 17 and was down to only 12. His mind went as muddy as the water did and then he went blank.
The Grassy Knoll
Karl awoke on a thick mound of dried grass. "Aghhh!" his left arm was broken. Holding his arm against his body he rolled off the mound limping, looking for something he could make into to sling. As the sun rose he quickly surveyed the area. "What manner of place is this?" The land was flat and arid, like a steppe in drought, the air was hot and still. There were no hills except for the mound of dried grass. Using his good arm, Karl sat next to the mound tying his broken arm tight to his body with his belt. The mound began to move. Karl jumped up and turned around to look behind him.
A large boney head craned upwards from the tawny mound. "Dragon?" muttered Karl in wide-eyed disbelief. It rolled over stretching and yawning like a cat, fluffing the thick fur on its back. Its moss-edged wings reached upwards casting long shadows on the ground. From its mouth, the tangy scent of rusted metal rode out on its hot breath. "Good morning, Druid." The dragon's voice vibrated through Karl's chest. Paralyzed with fear he fell over. "Oh damn! This isn't the way I planned on going. Maybe a small ceremony with freinds and a little nosh, but not like this." thought Karl.
To be continued...
House of Jenga
Karl arrived at 9:00 am. He has now learned that it's not his +1 spear that sets off the alarms, it's the metal staces in his boots. He looked around the table for Mr. L----'s sign in sheet. It wasn't there so he asked the clerk. "That's cause he's not here. Sign this and take a seat." she said through the bullet-proof glass.
Ms. S----- called me in. She's the supervisor who handled my Communty Service papers two weeks ago, not that she'd know me from Adam. We reviewed all past appointments. I have now fulfilled four PO appointemnts and two home visits. I reached into my bindle and gave her copies of papers that show I'm assigned to Anger Management and Community Service. "You've been busy" she confirmed and gave me my next appointment: Tuesday, January 31. I told her I missed last week's CS shift and asked if there was a way to make it up. She didn't know. No one seems to know much, so I call RDU a lot.
When I got home I called Mr. C----- from RDU, Cummunity Service Division. I told him I missed last Saturday's shift with Mr. B----- but left a message. I asked what I should do. He said missing one is not a big deal but two or three times... I'd have to face the judge again and possibly jail time. There's not many options. Although I'm interested in seeing how my Cast Tumor spell is taking, I'm not particularly interested in my reunion with Judge D--------- in this circumstance.
Epiloque
I wonder how many people fall off track, there are so many opportunities to fall within the New York Criminal Court system. It's possible that someone might fall and not even know it. Working the system takes the diligence of a Korean honor student. It's more like playing Jenga with a pile of court papers. One slip and the carefully constructed pile might cave. I have a good constitution and a decent amount of hit points, but all could be nil with the simple roll of a 20-sided di.
Karl didn't let the missed appointment get him down. He spent MLK day with Oola out in Brighton Beach. They looked at fish at the NY Aquarium and picked the largest one for dinner. He tried to impress her by carving "Oola smell nice like winter-blooming jasmine flower and she good kisser and have nice soft skin too -Karl" into the boardwalk with his spear, but he ran out of light as the sun began to set. Note: Karl, bring Bullseye Lantern next time.
Ms. S----- called me in. She's the supervisor who handled my Communty Service papers two weeks ago, not that she'd know me from Adam. We reviewed all past appointments. I have now fulfilled four PO appointemnts and two home visits. I reached into my bindle and gave her copies of papers that show I'm assigned to Anger Management and Community Service. "You've been busy" she confirmed and gave me my next appointment: Tuesday, January 31. I told her I missed last week's CS shift and asked if there was a way to make it up. She didn't know. No one seems to know much, so I call RDU a lot.
When I got home I called Mr. C----- from RDU, Cummunity Service Division. I told him I missed last Saturday's shift with Mr. B----- but left a message. I asked what I should do. He said missing one is not a big deal but two or three times... I'd have to face the judge again and possibly jail time. There's not many options. Although I'm interested in seeing how my Cast Tumor spell is taking, I'm not particularly interested in my reunion with Judge D--------- in this circumstance.
Epiloque
I wonder how many people fall off track, there are so many opportunities to fall within the New York Criminal Court system. It's possible that someone might fall and not even know it. Working the system takes the diligence of a Korean honor student. It's more like playing Jenga with a pile of court papers. One slip and the carefully constructed pile might cave. I have a good constitution and a decent amount of hit points, but all could be nil with the simple roll of a 20-sided di.
Karl didn't let the missed appointment get him down. He spent MLK day with Oola out in Brighton Beach. They looked at fish at the NY Aquarium and picked the largest one for dinner. He tried to impress her by carving "Oola smell nice like winter-blooming jasmine flower and she good kisser and have nice soft skin too -Karl" into the boardwalk with his spear, but he ran out of light as the sun began to set. Note: Karl, bring Bullseye Lantern next time.
Monday, January 16, 2006
*In the Naga's Laire
A scaley monster cut through the water like knife. It had the body of a snake with a human face. It shook its mangy over-dyed about revealing its cheaply applied make-up and grossly over-sized hoop earings. It reeked of a cheap body wash. Coincidentaly, it looked just like Ms. G-----, the ADA that tried to put karl away as a fellon. As it rose above the boat it's visible portion must have stood over 25 feet tall. It hissed "Who are you and why do you come to my laire?!" with it's breath reaking of rotting meat. Klem Matoh reached for his dagger and the Naga shrieked "I'll eat your heart for dinner little man!"
Its tail knocked him into the water and curled around his chest. Karl cast his spell of Water Breathing on Klem Matoh and the rest bore their long and short range weapons. The Naga thrashed about trying to bite the brave adventurers, Ah Ro Ghant's sword of sharpness made shallow nicks. Gobarth's arrows only bounced off off the Naga's tough scaley hide. The boat rocked violently then the Maga submerged leaving little ripples in the water. An uncertian silence filled the air. The crew looked in every direction gripping tightly to the boat.
The boat rose into the air, spilling its crew into the water like seeds from a ripened papaya. Some were thrown by a shallow embankment, others thrashed about in the water reaching for their weapons. The Naga crushed the boat and shook it in its mouth like a dog toy until it was completely destroyed. They threw their long range weapons. The Naga dove and re-emerged with Natzzo in its mouth, he was hurt badly. Klem Matoh emerged panting for air casting his Wand of Paralysis at the Naga. It slowed its attack and dropped Natzzo into the water. Gobarth hurled his Fire Bomb Flask and singed it badly as Ms. Vickers and Ah Ro Ghant lead the sword attack. The Sword of Sharpness found the vulnerable spot between the Naga's eyes! It shreiked in pain and went limp, its body twitched and sank to the bottom.
They all swam ashore and Karl used his Staff of Healing on the wounded, Natzzo had lost many hit points. They agreed that they shouldn't stay the night as more Ogres might return. They searched the Naga's laire for treasure. They only found the bones of unfortunate explorers, broken weapons and two court mandated orders of protection. It seemd they had nothing. But what was the Naga protecting with it's life? Karl waved his Wand of Magic Detection around the cave. Soon the belly of the fallen Naga lit the water and cave ceiling with a soft green glow. Wasting no time, Ms. Vickers and Ah Ro Ghant dove into the water, swords in hand. They surfaced dragging the Naga's mid-section to shore.Ver Klempt yelled out "Over here! A way out!" Karl quickly tied the belly in a truss, they could hear the distant grunting of Ogres.
Climbing the cave wall they followed a trickle of light from above. Ver Klempt lead the way, squeezing past a narrow casm in the ceiling, full belly in tow. Gobarth complained about its massive weight. "Oh, shut up and push!" snapped Ms. Vickers as she hoisted above him.
They surfaced into the late afternoon sun and hacked the stomach open spilling it's slimey contents on the ground . Natzzo separated jewels, gold, weapons and magic items from the thick ooze and procalimed "A King's ransom in the black market! We've done well!" Jewels will be traded in for gold peices, but weapons and magic items will be doaled to those who could use best them. Gobarth expressed discontent for the Amulet of Poison he was given. "I already have, like, an infinity of these! Ahhhhh!" He packed it into his sack shaking his head.
As Klem Mahtoh sinched his bindle, he looked east and paused. A thin black shape flappped towards him. It was 2 feet long with broad leathery wings that spanned 3 feet. It's scales were shiney and coal colored, it's tail ended in a sharp curved point. Ah Ro Ghant unsheathed his sword. Klem Matoh held his arm out and exclaimed "NO". It landed and perched on his extended arm as a falcon would. "He's with me guys. This is my familiar, Smoog."
"A trained Psuedo Dragon? Sweeet! Why you been holdin' on us all this time?" Ver Klempt asked."We had to bond first, now we belong to each other. I can see and feel as he does." Klem Mahtoh explained as he scratched Smoog's head. "It purs like a cat but can strike like a tiger." Gobarth said "Excellent reconnaissance! Brothers! Bring Smoog on our next quest and he'll find us bounty and booty!" Vickers made a face, rolled her eyes and said "Hmmf, hello, lady here." "What's her problem?" muttered Gobarth under his breath. Everyone laughed. Then Gobarth asked "Hey guys, Who's Wanda Paralysis?" in the distance they heard a snare's rim shot.
Its tail knocked him into the water and curled around his chest. Karl cast his spell of Water Breathing on Klem Matoh and the rest bore their long and short range weapons. The Naga thrashed about trying to bite the brave adventurers, Ah Ro Ghant's sword of sharpness made shallow nicks. Gobarth's arrows only bounced off off the Naga's tough scaley hide. The boat rocked violently then the Maga submerged leaving little ripples in the water. An uncertian silence filled the air. The crew looked in every direction gripping tightly to the boat.
The boat rose into the air, spilling its crew into the water like seeds from a ripened papaya. Some were thrown by a shallow embankment, others thrashed about in the water reaching for their weapons. The Naga crushed the boat and shook it in its mouth like a dog toy until it was completely destroyed. They threw their long range weapons. The Naga dove and re-emerged with Natzzo in its mouth, he was hurt badly. Klem Matoh emerged panting for air casting his Wand of Paralysis at the Naga. It slowed its attack and dropped Natzzo into the water. Gobarth hurled his Fire Bomb Flask and singed it badly as Ms. Vickers and Ah Ro Ghant lead the sword attack. The Sword of Sharpness found the vulnerable spot between the Naga's eyes! It shreiked in pain and went limp, its body twitched and sank to the bottom.
They all swam ashore and Karl used his Staff of Healing on the wounded, Natzzo had lost many hit points. They agreed that they shouldn't stay the night as more Ogres might return. They searched the Naga's laire for treasure. They only found the bones of unfortunate explorers, broken weapons and two court mandated orders of protection. It seemd they had nothing. But what was the Naga protecting with it's life? Karl waved his Wand of Magic Detection around the cave. Soon the belly of the fallen Naga lit the water and cave ceiling with a soft green glow. Wasting no time, Ms. Vickers and Ah Ro Ghant dove into the water, swords in hand. They surfaced dragging the Naga's mid-section to shore.Ver Klempt yelled out "Over here! A way out!" Karl quickly tied the belly in a truss, they could hear the distant grunting of Ogres.
Climbing the cave wall they followed a trickle of light from above. Ver Klempt lead the way, squeezing past a narrow casm in the ceiling, full belly in tow. Gobarth complained about its massive weight. "Oh, shut up and push!" snapped Ms. Vickers as she hoisted above him.
They surfaced into the late afternoon sun and hacked the stomach open spilling it's slimey contents on the ground . Natzzo separated jewels, gold, weapons and magic items from the thick ooze and procalimed "A King's ransom in the black market! We've done well!" Jewels will be traded in for gold peices, but weapons and magic items will be doaled to those who could use best them. Gobarth expressed discontent for the Amulet of Poison he was given. "I already have, like, an infinity of these! Ahhhhh!" He packed it into his sack shaking his head.
As Klem Mahtoh sinched his bindle, he looked east and paused. A thin black shape flappped towards him. It was 2 feet long with broad leathery wings that spanned 3 feet. It's scales were shiney and coal colored, it's tail ended in a sharp curved point. Ah Ro Ghant unsheathed his sword. Klem Matoh held his arm out and exclaimed "NO". It landed and perched on his extended arm as a falcon would. "He's with me guys. This is my familiar, Smoog."
"A trained Psuedo Dragon? Sweeet! Why you been holdin' on us all this time?" Ver Klempt asked."We had to bond first, now we belong to each other. I can see and feel as he does." Klem Mahtoh explained as he scratched Smoog's head. "It purs like a cat but can strike like a tiger." Gobarth said "Excellent reconnaissance! Brothers! Bring Smoog on our next quest and he'll find us bounty and booty!" Vickers made a face, rolled her eyes and said "Hmmf, hello, lady here." "What's her problem?" muttered Gobarth under his breath. Everyone laughed. Then Gobarth asked "Hey guys, Who's Wanda Paralysis?" in the distance they heard a snare's rim shot.
Saturday, January 14, 2006
Missing My Mark
Apocolyptic Dream: In the late afternoon, a missle shaped like a fat grey bullet flew just hundreds of feet from the ground and was heading towards the city. Karl jumped into the air and flew after it but lost track as it went passed over the buildings. He landed and ran through the streets and saw two class mates from high school, still dress in their sloppy untucked uniforms. "Joachim! Steven! did you see where the bomb went?" They pointed and looked away. Karl wasn't very popular in high school. He ran panting! There it was, lying in a shallow crater, unexploded. It was a dud. No one seemed to notice, they just went about their business. One person even stepped over it.
Karl slept through his alarm this morning and woke up at 8:38 am. He missed the 8:00 am Community Service bus. He tried getting a car service on the phone but no one was picking up. Leafing through his court file, he found the CS supervisors number and called. "Mr. C-----, this it Karl, I was supposed to be on Mr. B----'s Saturday work crew but I over slept. Please call me back it's now 8:45, I can get a car service to the location. Here's my number..." Frustration rolled up and down his body from his clay-colored eyes to his knee brace. He took a deep breath and unpakced his beef patty lunch and took a bite. He unpacked the rest of his bindle, court papers and all and took of his work boots.
I feel like an idiot, I have no way of contacting Mr. B----- and I don't think anyone is going to call me back on a Saturday. I wonder if CS will make me do a double shift. Can I go to jail for this? I guess I won't know until Tuesday when I meet with PO Mr. L---. Monday is Martin Luther King day. Is this like missing a plane a bus or doctors appointment? This can't be good. Can I make this up? Is there a make-up day available? I decided I'll just wait here at home for the rest of the day. I don't think I'l get a call but... 34 degrees and it's raining outside this morning.
Karl recalled one summer when he was a chubby eleven year-old boy. The brakes on his bike gave out as he rode down a slippery hill. It was coverred in blue-green algae that had swollen with rain. He tried to stop with his feet but ended up slamming into the front of a parked vehicle. The front wheel of his bike was bent and his leg was bleeding. Remarkably the vehicle was fine, except for the fact that Karl grabbed the side veiw mirror as he flew onto the hood. He waited for a while with the broken mirror in his hand but no one showed up. Writing "Sorry" on the dirty window, he left the mirror on the hood. He hiked his tube sock above his knee to stop the bleeding and dragged the broken bike up the hill limping. Ironically all this happenned in front of the old hospital.
Karl slept through his alarm this morning and woke up at 8:38 am. He missed the 8:00 am Community Service bus. He tried getting a car service on the phone but no one was picking up. Leafing through his court file, he found the CS supervisors number and called. "Mr. C-----, this it Karl, I was supposed to be on Mr. B----'s Saturday work crew but I over slept. Please call me back it's now 8:45, I can get a car service to the location. Here's my number..." Frustration rolled up and down his body from his clay-colored eyes to his knee brace. He took a deep breath and unpakced his beef patty lunch and took a bite. He unpacked the rest of his bindle, court papers and all and took of his work boots.
I feel like an idiot, I have no way of contacting Mr. B----- and I don't think anyone is going to call me back on a Saturday. I wonder if CS will make me do a double shift. Can I go to jail for this? I guess I won't know until Tuesday when I meet with PO Mr. L---. Monday is Martin Luther King day. Is this like missing a plane a bus or doctors appointment? This can't be good. Can I make this up? Is there a make-up day available? I decided I'll just wait here at home for the rest of the day. I don't think I'l get a call but... 34 degrees and it's raining outside this morning.
Karl recalled one summer when he was a chubby eleven year-old boy. The brakes on his bike gave out as he rode down a slippery hill. It was coverred in blue-green algae that had swollen with rain. He tried to stop with his feet but ended up slamming into the front of a parked vehicle. The front wheel of his bike was bent and his leg was bleeding. Remarkably the vehicle was fine, except for the fact that Karl grabbed the side veiw mirror as he flew onto the hood. He waited for a while with the broken mirror in his hand but no one showed up. Writing "Sorry" on the dirty window, he left the mirror on the hood. He hiked his tube sock above his knee to stop the bleeding and dragged the broken bike up the hill limping. Ironically all this happenned in front of the old hospital.
Tuesday, January 10, 2006
*Double Header
The brave band of seven met at Klem Matoh's abode. He was hosting. Karl took a seat by Gobarth who was hogging the snacks. Where was Natzzo, the monk? DM was out sick, so Ver Klempt, the theif, lead the adventure. Ah Ro Ghant arrived. He greeted everyone and said "Nice place." Ms. Vickers polished the dried blood from her sword and huffed "You're late."
Earlier that day, Dudicus, a wayfarer had given them directions with vague warnings. They packed their weapons and ventured deep into Kings County searching for adventure. They crossed over the ravine and headed into a wide meadow surrounded by trees. They saw something ahead that at first resembled a black boot. Maybe a horse's head? Natzzo sent his hawk, Pfiefer, over the area, it returned with nothing to report. Scepticism filled the air as did the pungent smell of rotting flesh. Karl sent his mule Louise ahead into the tree lined border for re-con. She let out a horrible screech! And then nothing more.
A large hairy creature emerged from a cave: a two-headed Elon armed with a club in each hand dropped Louise's head from it's mouth. He still looked hungry. He took intiative and attacked the brave troup. They rolled and quickly defeated him. Just then a larger female Elon charged from the surrounding woods. Karl now had a chance to use his entangle spell. He pulled a sprig of holly from his flesh colored knee brace and summoned the trees and insects to do his bidding."This is for Louise!" mumbled Karl angrily.
I thought about what Mr. L---- said at Anger Mangement Intake, about the judge not liking me. I have to say that stung a bit because it is true. For whatever reason, the judge already decided I was the bad guy and the other two were innocent victims. I was told toughness was a good career move for the judge, so defending the truth in trial wouldn't have matterred much for me. As for the DA, she tried her best to cast me as an angry drug addict destined for jail. But where would these two be without their jobs? Maybe they'd just be two more horrible people loose on the streets of New York kicking over garbage cans. In a discussion with a friend I was told the judge was only human. Bla bla bla justice bla.
My alignment is described as true nuetral, but in the darkest corner of my Druid heart, I cast golfball-size tumors on four people, the last two being those two horrible cowards that lied and tried to put me away as a fellon. They were like a lumbering monster with two ugly heads attached to the same weak body, one head looking to jail me and the other looking to avoid perjury.
The larger two-headed Elon fought fiercely, but she finally lay on the ground twitching from her injuries, a swarm of bees still clung to both of her faces. Ah Ro Ghant and Vickers spang forward to cut off her heads, first the left then the right. They sustained some damage but Karl used his Staff of Healing on the afflicted, then on himself. Just as they started checking for loot they were set upon by Ogres, possibly hundreds of them. The brave seven soon realized they were outnumberred. They dropped the severed heads and ran deep into the cave to the edge of an under ground lake. The Ogrish grunting drew closer, a spear flew by and hit the ground. "Look! a boat!" cried Natzzo. They climbed in and launched from shore into the water, so was dark and still.
So far there's been no movement from Civil Court. I don't know what to expect. Cousin Rachel says they'll have a tough time if they move forward from what I told her about Criminal Court. She works in Civil Law. I'd like to see these two in court just so I can set a pox upon them with my eyes. This woman claims I that dragged her from her seat and attacked her. Very hard to explain since I was the one knocked onto the floor. Her injuries will speak of nothing but perjury.
I imagine her opening statement will be "That's 4'8" basket-weaving-Druid that attacked me and my gay boyfriend! He picked my boyfreind up and threw him at me!" Her witness was never very cooperative with her case, missing court dates and all over 16 months. He's since disappeared from the public and the far reaches of Google. So where is this two-headed monster hiding now? One has to ask why.
They made their way across the lake using a bulleyes lantern to guide them. The Orgish grunting, splashing and plunking of spears faded in the distance. They slowed to a pause to assses how large the lake was. Karl's Scimitar didn't reach the bottom and the bullseyes lantern revealed no walls or ceiling. Suddenly a large rippled broke the stillness! The boat rocked violently and everyone held on!
To be continued...
Earlier that day, Dudicus, a wayfarer had given them directions with vague warnings. They packed their weapons and ventured deep into Kings County searching for adventure. They crossed over the ravine and headed into a wide meadow surrounded by trees. They saw something ahead that at first resembled a black boot. Maybe a horse's head? Natzzo sent his hawk, Pfiefer, over the area, it returned with nothing to report. Scepticism filled the air as did the pungent smell of rotting flesh. Karl sent his mule Louise ahead into the tree lined border for re-con. She let out a horrible screech! And then nothing more.
A large hairy creature emerged from a cave: a two-headed Elon armed with a club in each hand dropped Louise's head from it's mouth. He still looked hungry. He took intiative and attacked the brave troup. They rolled and quickly defeated him. Just then a larger female Elon charged from the surrounding woods. Karl now had a chance to use his entangle spell. He pulled a sprig of holly from his flesh colored knee brace and summoned the trees and insects to do his bidding."This is for Louise!" mumbled Karl angrily.
I thought about what Mr. L---- said at Anger Mangement Intake, about the judge not liking me. I have to say that stung a bit because it is true. For whatever reason, the judge already decided I was the bad guy and the other two were innocent victims. I was told toughness was a good career move for the judge, so defending the truth in trial wouldn't have matterred much for me. As for the DA, she tried her best to cast me as an angry drug addict destined for jail. But where would these two be without their jobs? Maybe they'd just be two more horrible people loose on the streets of New York kicking over garbage cans. In a discussion with a friend I was told the judge was only human. Bla bla bla justice bla.
My alignment is described as true nuetral, but in the darkest corner of my Druid heart, I cast golfball-size tumors on four people, the last two being those two horrible cowards that lied and tried to put me away as a fellon. They were like a lumbering monster with two ugly heads attached to the same weak body, one head looking to jail me and the other looking to avoid perjury.
The larger two-headed Elon fought fiercely, but she finally lay on the ground twitching from her injuries, a swarm of bees still clung to both of her faces. Ah Ro Ghant and Vickers spang forward to cut off her heads, first the left then the right. They sustained some damage but Karl used his Staff of Healing on the afflicted, then on himself. Just as they started checking for loot they were set upon by Ogres, possibly hundreds of them. The brave seven soon realized they were outnumberred. They dropped the severed heads and ran deep into the cave to the edge of an under ground lake. The Ogrish grunting drew closer, a spear flew by and hit the ground. "Look! a boat!" cried Natzzo. They climbed in and launched from shore into the water, so was dark and still.
So far there's been no movement from Civil Court. I don't know what to expect. Cousin Rachel says they'll have a tough time if they move forward from what I told her about Criminal Court. She works in Civil Law. I'd like to see these two in court just so I can set a pox upon them with my eyes. This woman claims I that dragged her from her seat and attacked her. Very hard to explain since I was the one knocked onto the floor. Her injuries will speak of nothing but perjury.
I imagine her opening statement will be "That's 4'8" basket-weaving-Druid that attacked me and my gay boyfriend! He picked my boyfreind up and threw him at me!" Her witness was never very cooperative with her case, missing court dates and all over 16 months. He's since disappeared from the public and the far reaches of Google. So where is this two-headed monster hiding now? One has to ask why.
They made their way across the lake using a bulleyes lantern to guide them. The Orgish grunting, splashing and plunking of spears faded in the distance. They slowed to a pause to assses how large the lake was. Karl's Scimitar didn't reach the bottom and the bullseyes lantern revealed no walls or ceiling. Suddenly a large rippled broke the stillness! The boat rocked violently and everyone held on!
To be continued...
Monday, January 09, 2006
Men Behaving Badly
Karl walked down the narrow hallway looking for room #000. The hallway was marked with hand prints and long gauges from errant hand trucks. A woman walked towards him and asked if he was the IT guy, he said "No I'm looking for Anger Management." She said "Oh my" and walked the other way. Karl arrived at the Brooklyn Aids Task Force: Prison Project Unit at 10:20 am. He told the receptionist he had an appointment with Mr. L-----. He took a seat and waited, leafed through the current issue of "Living with AIDS" and the "Faces of Meth" leaflet. The waiting area was crammed with boxes marked "Ayuda!"
Mr. L---- came out and asked what I needed. I said "I have an Intake appointment with you for 10:30." He looked surprised and went back to check his calendar. It looked as if he just got there himself, he still had his jacket and hat on. He called me back to his cubical and told he to take a seat under the large red poster that read "La Hepatitis C: El Gente, Nuestro Problemo." I went over scheduling from our last phone conversation: 12 evening group meetings and 6 personal counseling session over 90 a day program. He gave me more details on the weekly group agenda.
The Twelve Days of Counseling
1. The Rules: Program Overview, Getting to Know You
2. Anger Resources and Management Techniques
3. AIDS: The Connection to Drugs and Violence
4. Returning to the Old Crowd: Avoiding Your Old Environment
5. Agression Imput, Self Esteem and Denial
6. Anger, Power, Violence and Drugs
7. Domestic Violence and It's Roots
8. Man to Man: The Lecture Series
9. Stress Management Techniques
10. Relationships
11. Becoming Whole and Adding Spirituality to Your Life
12. Gradutation Day
He held up a copy of a diploma and said that when I graduate I'd get one of these (week 12, see above). He informed me that I'll be in the men's group and I'd be attending with 25 guys, most of them newly released from prison. He asked why I was there. I said it's one of my requirements. He said "Well, you're here for a good reason and you might as well tell me now." I described the horrible incident of summer, 2004.
"So you they had your back to the wall."
"No I was actually on the floor trying to sit up."
"I didn't mean that literally."
He insisted that the program would help me control this inner rage (week 2). I might learn some valuable things about myself as I interact with the group, maybe by Avoiding My Old Environment (week 4) I might stay out of trouble.
He asked me if I knew what the roots of domestic violence was (week 7). I said "money and drugs." Mr. L---- held his hands to his chest and said "No brother, it comes from here. But you have to get over the denial." (week 5)
I was stunned. I thought I had a good anwswer. I didn't know how to reply so I held my hands to my chest and nodded back. I realized that he didn't believe a word I'd said. I asked him if he was a religious man and if he ever read the Book of Job. He nodded yes.
"Sometimes life isn't fair, but why should it be. So here I am, just like Job sitting on the pile of garbage that was my house. Life just goes on but it doesn't pass you by unless you let it." He nodded slowly and paused. "I've accepted that I'm already here and I'll do what you need me to do."
He started the questionaire, and as with the Substance Abuse Assessment, he crossed out whole sections that dealt with drug abuse, family problems, sexual abuse, mental instability and the like. He asked if I practiced any religion, I said I was a lapsed Druid, but my parents are orthodox. I only go to the high celebrations.
We went through this again as if to see if I rememberred what I had said. The new questions were "Have you ever considerred suicide?" and "Have you ever attempted a homicide?" to which I answerred "No" and "Oh my God no!" He laughed and said "I have to ask you these questions. How much probation did you get?" I said three years, he said "Ow, the judge did not like you." he continued. "Have you had a drink in the past four week?" "Just last night."
Mr. L---- came out and asked what I needed. I said "I have an Intake appointment with you for 10:30." He looked surprised and went back to check his calendar. It looked as if he just got there himself, he still had his jacket and hat on. He called me back to his cubical and told he to take a seat under the large red poster that read "La Hepatitis C: El Gente, Nuestro Problemo." I went over scheduling from our last phone conversation: 12 evening group meetings and 6 personal counseling session over 90 a day program. He gave me more details on the weekly group agenda.
The Twelve Days of Counseling
1. The Rules: Program Overview, Getting to Know You
2. Anger Resources and Management Techniques
3. AIDS: The Connection to Drugs and Violence
4. Returning to the Old Crowd: Avoiding Your Old Environment
5. Agression Imput, Self Esteem and Denial
6. Anger, Power, Violence and Drugs
7. Domestic Violence and It's Roots
8. Man to Man: The Lecture Series
9. Stress Management Techniques
10. Relationships
11. Becoming Whole and Adding Spirituality to Your Life
12. Gradutation Day
He held up a copy of a diploma and said that when I graduate I'd get one of these (week 12, see above). He informed me that I'll be in the men's group and I'd be attending with 25 guys, most of them newly released from prison. He asked why I was there. I said it's one of my requirements. He said "Well, you're here for a good reason and you might as well tell me now." I described the horrible incident of summer, 2004.
"So you they had your back to the wall."
"No I was actually on the floor trying to sit up."
"I didn't mean that literally."
He insisted that the program would help me control this inner rage (week 2). I might learn some valuable things about myself as I interact with the group, maybe by Avoiding My Old Environment (week 4) I might stay out of trouble.
He asked me if I knew what the roots of domestic violence was (week 7). I said "money and drugs." Mr. L---- held his hands to his chest and said "No brother, it comes from here. But you have to get over the denial." (week 5)
I was stunned. I thought I had a good anwswer. I didn't know how to reply so I held my hands to my chest and nodded back. I realized that he didn't believe a word I'd said. I asked him if he was a religious man and if he ever read the Book of Job. He nodded yes.
"Sometimes life isn't fair, but why should it be. So here I am, just like Job sitting on the pile of garbage that was my house. Life just goes on but it doesn't pass you by unless you let it." He nodded slowly and paused. "I've accepted that I'm already here and I'll do what you need me to do."
He started the questionaire, and as with the Substance Abuse Assessment, he crossed out whole sections that dealt with drug abuse, family problems, sexual abuse, mental instability and the like. He asked if I practiced any religion, I said I was a lapsed Druid, but my parents are orthodox. I only go to the high celebrations.
We went through this again as if to see if I rememberred what I had said. The new questions were "Have you ever considerred suicide?" and "Have you ever attempted a homicide?" to which I answerred "No" and "Oh my God no!" He laughed and said "I have to ask you these questions. How much probation did you get?" I said three years, he said "Ow, the judge did not like you." he continued. "Have you had a drink in the past four week?" "Just last night."
"Have you felt depressed or lost in the past four weeks?" "Oh yes" I replied, he marked "Yes" on the form and then asked me how so. "Trying to comply with court appointments has been like driving a shopping cart with a busted wheel. I never know what to expect, conflicting dates, wrong programs, missing forms. Do you know how long it took me to book this appointment with you?" He changed the answer to "No".
At this point Mr. L---- got the feeling that I was not the menace to society that was described on a peice of paper with a court seal. The tone in his voice changed from concern for my dark angry Druid soul to just a normal conversation. he told me he'd been to Middle Earth in the 70s, during the war. I said "Then you know the lay of the land and the people." He smiled. "Beautiful place." he said.
In his written summary he listed my reason for needing Anger Management as "Mandated by Criminal Court" and crossed out Domestic and Felony Violence from the form. He said "You'll be alright" and shook my hand. He complimented me on my attire and interview demeanor.
Epiloque
I left there at 12:00 and got a fried chicken lunch around the corner. I wrote down my dates starting with January 23, and added it to the chart that I made to track all court matters and contact people.
I thought the weirdest part of the meeting was not the list of questions. It was that Mr. L---- never really looked me in the eye. He mostly stared at the pad with questions, occassionally looking up at me to see my reaction. What has this man seen? I agree that anger management might be a valuable tool but when applied to the wrong person it might be caustic, much like a type "A" blood transfussion admisterred to a type "B" man.
On his way from the train a scraggly man put his dirty hand out to Karl. Karl said "Sorry I don't have any change." The man pointed to his mouth and put his hand out again. Karl dug through his bag and gave him the biscuit he saved from his fried chicken lunch, still warm and wrapped in a napkin. The man held it to his heart and bowed, then walked off.
Saturday, January 07, 2006
The Shawshank Misdemeanor
By 7:00 am Karl had left the coffee shop to catch the 2/3 to the A train heading to East New York. He looked over the printed instructions: "wait in front of the station for a blue van." He dressed to blend in with the work crew: Orange safety jacket, yellow hoody, black boots, thermals and gloves (and a flesh colored knee brace).The LIRR station loomed high above the Broadway Junction station as the sun cast a copper glow on an otherwise colorless neighborhood.
I got there about 10 minutes early so I had a cigarette and waited by the bus stop. The entire corner was lined with police vans and patrol cars. It was pretty busy for a Saturday morning as cell phone sporting people dodged traffic crossing the street. I'd never been to East New York before, it's an abandonded industrial neighborhood with burned-out factory buildings from what I could see.
A while later I noticed a young guy checking over the printed instructions with a court seal at the top. Soon after an other young man with a baseball cap and braids took out his instructions and looked up and down the street. They both were probably about 21 years old (if not 20) dressed in baggy jeans and Sean Jean jackets. They paced up and down the street looking for the blue van not noticing they had the same printed instructions.
"Communty Service?" I aksed.
"Yeah, you driving the van?"
With a very scared look he asked if I was with Probation. I said no, I was part of the group. He said his name was "G", the other guy said his name was 'T". Trying to sound cool I said my name was "K", which sounded very queer (Kay?). They probably wondered why I dressed like candy corn. Then nothing more was said. I put my hand out and they shook it reluctantly.
The dark blue van pull up Fulton and made a wide U-turn towards us. The lone driver looked around, I waved and we nodded at each other. I flagged the boys down and walked towards the van. I let them in first. We handed our work papers over to the driver. As he marked down the time he said "Good morning gentlemen I'm Mr. B------, and I'm not a dick so we'll treat each other with respect."
Another young guy walked up to the van and stepped in. We reviewed our Community Service hours. He explaind that the work we'll be doing is not back breaking, it wil include sweeping, mopping, painting and moving office furniture.
The Shawshank Moment
Then after answering a cell call, he turned to us and said "Today you can go back home, I put you down for an 8 hour shift for this week." Then he said that if we get arrested under his watch he'll say we walked the crew and get send to jail, "So stay home and lay low." We stepped out of the van confused. I wasn't sure what to do as the van drove off. All four of us approached the station, me, the white kid, the black kid and the Indian kid (Did the Indian kid try to hack a bank?). Looking back and then at each other we went our separate ways.
I got there about 10 minutes early so I had a cigarette and waited by the bus stop. The entire corner was lined with police vans and patrol cars. It was pretty busy for a Saturday morning as cell phone sporting people dodged traffic crossing the street. I'd never been to East New York before, it's an abandonded industrial neighborhood with burned-out factory buildings from what I could see.
A while later I noticed a young guy checking over the printed instructions with a court seal at the top. Soon after an other young man with a baseball cap and braids took out his instructions and looked up and down the street. They both were probably about 21 years old (if not 20) dressed in baggy jeans and Sean Jean jackets. They paced up and down the street looking for the blue van not noticing they had the same printed instructions.
"Communty Service?" I aksed.
"Yeah, you driving the van?"
With a very scared look he asked if I was with Probation. I said no, I was part of the group. He said his name was "G", the other guy said his name was 'T". Trying to sound cool I said my name was "K", which sounded very queer (Kay?). They probably wondered why I dressed like candy corn. Then nothing more was said. I put my hand out and they shook it reluctantly.
The dark blue van pull up Fulton and made a wide U-turn towards us. The lone driver looked around, I waved and we nodded at each other. I flagged the boys down and walked towards the van. I let them in first. We handed our work papers over to the driver. As he marked down the time he said "Good morning gentlemen I'm Mr. B------, and I'm not a dick so we'll treat each other with respect."
Another young guy walked up to the van and stepped in. We reviewed our Community Service hours. He explaind that the work we'll be doing is not back breaking, it wil include sweeping, mopping, painting and moving office furniture.
The Shawshank Moment
Then after answering a cell call, he turned to us and said "Today you can go back home, I put you down for an 8 hour shift for this week." Then he said that if we get arrested under his watch he'll say we walked the crew and get send to jail, "So stay home and lay low." We stepped out of the van confused. I wasn't sure what to do as the van drove off. All four of us approached the station, me, the white kid, the black kid and the Indian kid (Did the Indian kid try to hack a bank?). Looking back and then at each other we went our separate ways.
As I took the A train back I ponderred what had just transpired. I would never look a gift shift in the mouth. How do I lay low? How low do I lay? I reached my stop, and walked the rest of the way home. I though about the "Shawshank Redemption". Was I magic negro Morgan Freeman, or was I hopeful soul Tim Robbins?
Karl just saw a little light at the end of the tunnel, it was 25 degrees outside according to the morning news. He got home and peeled off the knee brace from his leg and sat down to check his e-mail.
70 - 8 = 62 hours.
Friday, January 06, 2006
Threat or Treat
Karl had a roving evening last night. Earlier he met with his band of Druids at the snare-making camp. After that he packed up his sprang loom and twine and then rushed off to see a friend's comedy night at yon near by club. Afterwards he joined forces with the troup as they headed to the Dark Forest to toast a successful evening of stand up. But on his way home something sinister was happening to end the Holiday.
As I walked up the block on Flatbush I saw an orange glow from the corner. I noticed something that smelled like burning tuprentine. It was about 1:00 am, as I crossed the empty street I noticed that four Christmas trees were set aflame in tandem down Plaza Street. I ran to the pay phone but found it was broken (Karl resists cell culture). No one was on the street. Thinking quickly I knocked on the window of a restaurant that was closing up and got the attention of the night worker. In a thick latino accent he yelled, "We close now! Sooory!". I pointed in the direction of the fire I tried to warn him in my broken Spanish. I realized I was actually yelling "The lesbian is on fire! The lesbian is on FIRE!" A stray dog at the end of the block stopped and barked at me then waited. It looked right at me. The night worker opened the side door and looked in horror as the flames now reached the height of about 8 feet. He said he was going to call the police. Or maybe he yelled "Please review your policy!" --> ??
I figured my work there was done so I continued to walked home pondering the incident. What kind of person does this thing? Such an angry act. Burning a tree in front of a Druid is liking shooting a car in front to Dale Earnhardt. In the early morning I awoke from a dream of four people bursting into flames. They ran around in a circle and then dropped to the ground and disintigrated. In the dream that same stray dog sat and watched and then nodded it's head at me as if to say "it's done, go home, me llamo Skippy". What was he trying to tell me? Damn these foreign language dreams!
Serving My Community
Tomorrow I start my first day of Community Service (70 hours), or to those in the know, CS. I'll take the A train to East New York and then wait at the train station with the work group. A blue van that will take us to the job site. Work day is from 8:00 until 4:00. In an odd way I feel good about getting to this level. At least I've completed this pile of paper work. In the absense of my PO I surfed through system and got the paper work from his supervisor Ms. S----- so that I can get on the crew that starts this Saturday, Jan 7.
I feel like the nut-job that made his own noose for hangin' day. How many people on probation pro-actively make their own arrangements for CS?! I met with the task leader Mr. B------ and got printed instruction and a ssslllooow, loooong explanation on how and where to take the train. At least they quit asking if I need a translator, someone must be taking notes over there.
I have to buy a knee brace for tomorrow. I twisted my knee at the ice rink on Monday. I stepped out to have a cigarette and fell as I dodged a falanx of Hasidic children. You think one of them would have broken my fall. One even laughed at me as I tried to retrieve my broken cigarette and then fell on it. This reminded of the time when I was separated from my troup and was surrounded by arrow weilding Cobol, a tiny mob of canine soldiers. What's wrong with these kids?
As I walked up the block on Flatbush I saw an orange glow from the corner. I noticed something that smelled like burning tuprentine. It was about 1:00 am, as I crossed the empty street I noticed that four Christmas trees were set aflame in tandem down Plaza Street. I ran to the pay phone but found it was broken (Karl resists cell culture). No one was on the street. Thinking quickly I knocked on the window of a restaurant that was closing up and got the attention of the night worker. In a thick latino accent he yelled, "We close now! Sooory!". I pointed in the direction of the fire I tried to warn him in my broken Spanish. I realized I was actually yelling "The lesbian is on fire! The lesbian is on FIRE!" A stray dog at the end of the block stopped and barked at me then waited. It looked right at me. The night worker opened the side door and looked in horror as the flames now reached the height of about 8 feet. He said he was going to call the police. Or maybe he yelled "Please review your policy!" --> ??
I figured my work there was done so I continued to walked home pondering the incident. What kind of person does this thing? Such an angry act. Burning a tree in front of a Druid is liking shooting a car in front to Dale Earnhardt. In the early morning I awoke from a dream of four people bursting into flames. They ran around in a circle and then dropped to the ground and disintigrated. In the dream that same stray dog sat and watched and then nodded it's head at me as if to say "it's done, go home, me llamo Skippy". What was he trying to tell me? Damn these foreign language dreams!
Serving My Community
Tomorrow I start my first day of Community Service (70 hours), or to those in the know, CS. I'll take the A train to East New York and then wait at the train station with the work group. A blue van that will take us to the job site. Work day is from 8:00 until 4:00. In an odd way I feel good about getting to this level. At least I've completed this pile of paper work. In the absense of my PO I surfed through system and got the paper work from his supervisor Ms. S----- so that I can get on the crew that starts this Saturday, Jan 7.
I feel like the nut-job that made his own noose for hangin' day. How many people on probation pro-actively make their own arrangements for CS?! I met with the task leader Mr. B------ and got printed instruction and a ssslllooow, loooong explanation on how and where to take the train. At least they quit asking if I need a translator, someone must be taking notes over there.
I have to buy a knee brace for tomorrow. I twisted my knee at the ice rink on Monday. I stepped out to have a cigarette and fell as I dodged a falanx of Hasidic children. You think one of them would have broken my fall. One even laughed at me as I tried to retrieve my broken cigarette and then fell on it. This reminded of the time when I was separated from my troup and was surrounded by arrow weilding Cobol, a tiny mob of canine soldiers. What's wrong with these kids?
Tuesday, January 03, 2006
*In The Canyon of Mortal Clay
On New Year's Eve, Karl met up with freinds at the Dark Forest for celebration and libation. New Years Day, Karl and his tribe ventured into the widlerness. The tribe of seven had not met for months as the DM had to finish grad school. The reunion was good, warriors, magic users... the theif and the monk. Unwittingly they were tricked by an evil town mayor and his lacky into fighting other warriors, arena style. They were rewarded with their lives, only to fight the Golam and the dreaded Ogre Mage on a mission set by the evil mayor. They traveled through the Canyon of Mortal Clay, damage was minimal and Karl did not violate his parole, as the journey took place in Kings County.
I spent the morning trying to make an appointments with DRU and BATF for Community Service and Anger Mangement, respectively. After much calling around I found myself confused as to how to make these appointments. According to Ms. R-------- at DRU, my PO was supposed to have filed paperwork for me to book myself with Community Service last week. He left for vacation saying that I should get that from DRU.
Well, long story short I got in touch with the Superior Probation Officer, Ms. S-----. I am meeting with her tomorrow morning at 10:00 to file papers to request Community Service (70 hours), which begins this Saturday, January 7, 2006. Good thing I bought new thermals.
Mr. L---- from BATF returned my call from this morning. We made an appointment for Anger Management intake for next Monday morning, January 9 at 10:30 (bring all papers and ID).
Anger Mangement Overview
- Intake: one meeting
- Duration from start date: 90 days or 12 weeks, January 23 to April 24, 2006
- Evening group meetings: four times a month (total of twelve over duration)
- Private day-time meetings: two times a month (total of six over duration)
Questions
- Regarding my father... if in the worse case scenario?
- I plan to visit Middle Earth in September... parameters?
Group meetings are scheduled on Monday evenings from 6:00 to 7:30pm. Private meetings are Tuesday or Wednesday mornings, dates TBD. Frequencey determined by councelor, Mr. L----.
Epilgoue
So far this process has been like bringing my own noose to the hanging. I've had to call and keep schedules from conflicting bewteen court department appointments. I now know why they call this Anger Mangement. The mission is to give you anger and then you have to manage it, like an unwanted growth.
It's been a lot like dealing with my father's prostate cancer treatment. You don't know what to expect until the next appointment, for better or for worse.
I need more experience points to become a fifth level Druid. I'm looking forward to acquiring more spells and hit points. Looks like I'll need more if I get stuck in the Canyon of Mortal Clay again.
I spent the morning trying to make an appointments with DRU and BATF for Community Service and Anger Mangement, respectively. After much calling around I found myself confused as to how to make these appointments. According to Ms. R-------- at DRU, my PO was supposed to have filed paperwork for me to book myself with Community Service last week. He left for vacation saying that I should get that from DRU.
Well, long story short I got in touch with the Superior Probation Officer, Ms. S-----. I am meeting with her tomorrow morning at 10:00 to file papers to request Community Service (70 hours), which begins this Saturday, January 7, 2006. Good thing I bought new thermals.
Mr. L---- from BATF returned my call from this morning. We made an appointment for Anger Management intake for next Monday morning, January 9 at 10:30 (bring all papers and ID).
Anger Mangement Overview
- Intake: one meeting
- Duration from start date: 90 days or 12 weeks, January 23 to April 24, 2006
- Evening group meetings: four times a month (total of twelve over duration)
- Private day-time meetings: two times a month (total of six over duration)
Questions
- Regarding my father... if in the worse case scenario?
- I plan to visit Middle Earth in September... parameters?
Group meetings are scheduled on Monday evenings from 6:00 to 7:30pm. Private meetings are Tuesday or Wednesday mornings, dates TBD. Frequencey determined by councelor, Mr. L----.
Epilgoue
So far this process has been like bringing my own noose to the hanging. I've had to call and keep schedules from conflicting bewteen court department appointments. I now know why they call this Anger Mangement. The mission is to give you anger and then you have to manage it, like an unwanted growth.
It's been a lot like dealing with my father's prostate cancer treatment. You don't know what to expect until the next appointment, for better or for worse.
I need more experience points to become a fifth level Druid. I'm looking forward to acquiring more spells and hit points. Looks like I'll need more if I get stuck in the Canyon of Mortal Clay again.
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