| Soundtrack for this entry: Magnet - Hold On
I spent the holiday season telling a coworker that she needed a Christmas Miracle. The comment was in good fun, but it was referring to the less than desirable lifestyle she lives. She's dating a married man, partying like it's 1999, living from paycheck to paycheck. I'm pretty sure she didn't receive that Christmas Miracle, but after yesterday...I'm wondering if it wasn't me who did?!
I drove to see my Grandmother yesterday morning. It's been quite some time since I've seen her. I had still never had a conversation with her (or any other family members) about meeting Cindy. My Aunt Arlene was the first to arrive. She brought a box of doughnuts and gave me some cash to pay for petro on the returning voyage. She told me that her son Scott has cleaned up his act and has been doing considerably well. I was pleased to hear it. Scott has been struggling since he returned from Desert Storm...in and out of jail on a regular basis.
My Uncle Tom was second to grace me with his presents. He brought me a huge box of venison steaks and potato sausage. I was pleasantly surprised to learn that he's been sober for a little over a month now. I was aware of recent happenings in his life...his second wife filed for divorce and he was escorted out of the local casino for being drunk and disorderly. What I wasn't aware of was these events lead to him cleaning up his life a little bit. He now admits that his drinking is the problem. That's a start.
It was the first time I saw him and my Aunt Arlene in the same room speaking in close to 10 years. Fucking amazing!
My Aunt Sally, her husband Bill, and their son Storm were next to arrive. Storm brought me a Raiders jelly bracelet and made fun of what a shitty season they had. They're Bears' fans, so they're high on a delusional cloud that there's hope of making it to the Super Bowl. Sally brought some cooked potato sausage over with her for all to enjoy. Her and Bill have been sober for close to 20 years combined. Bill quit drinking shortly after I did. Sally has 5 years under her belt now.
My Aunt Nancy was the last to arrive. She brought me a large bag of venison jerky, salmon, walleye, and venison hamburger. In case you haven't figured it out by this point, hunting and fishing is an important thing to my family members...eating is an important thing to me. It's a perfect marriage. She's the last of my Grandmother's children to clean up her act. She still drinks like a fish and spends every penny she's ever made at the casino. Her life is somewhat lost...I doubt the day will ever come that she gets her shit together. I guess I felt the same way about Tom though. Nonetheless, I love her.
In case this entry needs translation: I've distanced myself from my family since I quite drinking. When you make a decision to sober up, one thing that also changes is the company that you keep. You no longer associate with those whose lifestyles could have a negative effect on your progress. There is no compromise. You avoid parties, you avoid holidays, you avoid any event where you feel drunkeness will prevail. It's a difficult mountain to climb.
Yesterday brought hope to my world. I felt for the first time that my family understood and approved of my lifestyle. I'm not sure that my sobriety played any role in all of these events, but I'm sure the example I've set hasn't hurt. Believe in yourself and strive to make your life a little more livable every day... sooner or later, it will. | comments: 19 comments or Leave a comment   |
| An ex recently found my e-mail address after she Googled my name and contacted me. It seems that after years of drifting aimlessly (and suffering from a nervous breakdown), she wants to reconcile. Here's the rest of the story:
I met Amy about 12 years ago. She was stunning and very well aware of it. Her looks camoflauged the chamber of horrors trapped within. I'm still unaware of what happened in her life to create such an ugly duckling inside that swan...maybe it's for the best?!
I was still very uncomfortable in my new skin when we started dating. Come to think of it, it was my first sober relationship. It was odd following the footsteps that counselors had laid out for me a few years earlier. It's hard when someone introduces you to the concept that the way you're living your life isn't healthy. It's even harder to swallow their advice and start anew, exorcising demons as they surface. What's even harder is when you're completely unaware of the demons surfacing and the effects they are having on your newfound lover, especially when she doesn't communicate well enough to tell you.
It was an odd relationship, very deceiving from the start. I was unaware that she was washing her hands clean of one lover when she first descended upon my world. It took 9 months of being together before her deception finally caught up with her.
She was interning at a hospital about an hour away from here. I decided to surprise her when she got off work and sat on the hood of her car. "Hi, Matt" one of her coworkers said. "I'm Not Matt" I replied. "Aren't you waiting for Amy?" came from the corner of her mouth the foot wasn't in. After a heated argument, I was informed that she had been meaning to tell me about the electrical engineer she met.
It's funny how history repeats itself, isn't it? Not really.
Here's part of the poem I wrote when I got home that day:
Flat on your back, with your legs to to the sky
Just one of the many ways that you'd lie
Hanging with skeletons, alone with your past
I'm not the first you've fucked, I won't be the last.
Heh. | | comments: 14 comments or Leave a comment |
| I ventured through the eye of snow storm Brian yesterday to make it to my destination. It's guy's weekend here in the tiny town of Spread Eagle, WI. We spent the morning putting tip-ups on the ice...filling the propane tanks to grill the porterhouse steaks we bought...we've already made two batches of sausage (bratwurst & spicy italian) and have breakfast sausages on deck to be made.
We're stumbling down memory lane and having a few chuckles. Two tidbits I felt the need to share before I forgot about them:
Bob H was Kevin's neighbor (and first cousin). He spent his spare time working on the beat-up orange truck that was his pride. One Friday night while waiting for Kevin to get ready, Dave and I ventured over to Bob's to give him the business a little.
"We're off to drink a few beers and get laid, Bob"
Bob replied, "Are there going to be any girls there?"
OK, I guess you had to be there.
...here's another classic that crept out of the vaults:
Will putting the sausage casings on the stuffer, a crack about condoms was made. I remembered a classmate named Brad B. He wasn't the most popular guy in our class, nor was he the best looking...but he managed to land himself a very attractive girlfriend our junior year.
One Monday morning, a story surfaced in the hallways that Brad didn't have a condom on Saturday night when he was at his girlfriend's house and cleverly used an empty bread bag to do the deed. The next year and a half, we all referred to Brad as Bunny Bread (a Midwestern bread maker).
...oh Ruby, don't take your love to town! | | comments: 4 comments or Leave a comment |
| My apologies for being the suckiest friend on your friends list the past couple of months...I've been pretty busy, so that's the excuse I'm running with. Truth be told, I've been busier than I'm comfortable with and can't wait until things slow down.
Work. Soccer. Sleep. Yup, that pretty much sums it up nicely!
I coached a 12-14 year-old girls team this summer. We had a good season, a really good season...we finished undefeated with a 10-0-2 record. Plenty of ups and downs with players and parents kept me on my toes. We had our last practice of the season this evening...tournaments this weekend! If you find a few free minutes in your schedule and have a kind word or two in your pocket, check out our website and sign the guest book.
For those of you that kept up with the stories about my biological Dad and half-sister Cindy: I'm going to meet her for the first time next Thursday!! She's visiting family in Michigan and is going to drive halfway to Wisconsin with her Mother to have dinner with me. I'm pretty stoked. The four months or so that we've been communicating online has been very surreal...a pleasant family experience that I'm not accustomed to.
I hope all is well with you and yours. Please feel free to link me to any significant posts that I've missed or spill your guts and get me in the loop in the comments section. I need some form of nutrition, must eat now.
Work. Soccer. Eat. Sleep. Yeah, that's more like it. | | comments: 82 comments or Leave a comment |
| Tony Fisk was your stereotypical high school burner. He had a collection of indian ink tattoos that proudly displayed the collage of his so-called life. His most memorable tatt was the O-Z-Z-Y across the knuckles of his right hand.
I met Tony in the Walworth County jail. I know I've written about that experience before, it wasn't much of a tale...6 hours or so for an open intoxicant violation. Tony overheard my comment about craving a cigarette that I made to the friend I was in there with. He asked if I "wanted" a cigarette and countered my reply with a polite "how does it feel to want"? Laughter filled the cell at my expense.
Once meals were served that afternoon, I traded my chop suey to another inmate for three cigarettes. Fuckies. | | comments: 17 comments or Leave a comment |
| Billy Jo was a hairdresser who worked at the salon I frequented. I would regularly have coffee and conversation with the owner after his daughter cut my hair. One conversation lead to three months of employment. He and I went to auctions and bought things to sell on eBay. I would photograph and post them from the backroom of the salon. Anyhow...
Billy Jo was stuck in an abusive relationship that she was too afraid to end. Her beau was a waify little drug dealer who had rock n roll stars in his eyes. She threatened to leave him at one point, and he threatened to kill himself if she ever did. I provided daily counseling for her which ultimately lead to a repayment I should've never got involved in. We fucked while watching David Cronenberg's "Crash" (romantic, huh?).
One afternoon, she called me and asked me to call her back to see if her phone was properly working. I still wonder if she wasn't setting me up by leaving my number on their Caller ID. She swore she wasn't. Later that evening, I received a telephone call from her beau...he threatened to kill me if I ever saw her again.
Eventually, their paths did finally part ways. Billy Jo sought help for her addictions. Her beau invited his buddies over for a party...they arrived to find he hung himself. Apparently, he was facing time in prison for charges of dealing cocaine and decided to exit stage left.
...bring your own lampshade, somewhere there's a party! | | comments: 17 comments or Leave a comment |
| Ever feel so dirty that even if you scrubbed all three layers of skin off with a bar of Lava, you'd still fear sitting on the furniture because of the stain you'd leave behind? Ease my current discomfort and tell me about it.
Ever have an ex contact you and tell you that your health might be affected because of their sexual past? Ever have a friend who isn't careful about the company they keep and your friendship was jeopardized because of it?
Stories of this nature are what I seek... | | comments: 35 comments or Leave a comment |
| I just finished watching Capturing the Friedmans. Have you seen it? Disturbing!
There are a lot of memories that I have that don't have stories to accompany them. I was recently talking to a friend about one such memory. When I worked at the stereo store, we had a video rental department. One of the fringe benefits was free rentals for employees. The porn assortment was quite impressive on both VHS and BETA and I soon became the entertainment provider for every party I went to. My Dad took advantage of the situation as well...he'd call me at work from time to time and tell me to bring him home a "movie" or two. I knew exactly what he was referring to.
Sitting with my Dad and watching porn while having a few beers was an interesting experience. I've often wondered if it was wrong?! After watching Capturing the Friedmans, I'm suddenly realizing that my adventures with my Dad could've been worse. Much worse.
Crypticism: Lately, I've been realizing that a lot of things I piss and moan about could be much worse. I'm lucky enough to have friends and family who have been supportive of the decisions I make. It hasn't always been that way. I've learned that the sooner a person learns to pursue their own direction regardless of what the naysayers spew the better. Now, I need to learn to be easier on myself and not let that spew accumulate on my shoulders and clutter the world I've worked so hard to create. | | comments: 47 comments or Leave a comment |
| Cindy sent me an e-mail today telling me that my nephew Camron scored a goal in his first soccer game. His team won 6-3 tonight. Her existence in my life the past couple of months has definitely made it more enjoyable.
I've been thinking about family a lot lately. More specifically, about how family has the potential to stunt one's growth more than a pack of Lucky Strikes. I've failed numerous attempts to have a meaningful relationship with my sister Tonya. I've beaten myself fucking senseless over it...constantly wondering if I'm to blame. I've just never been able to get on with her no matter how hard I try.
Enter Cindy. Perhaps it's the fact that there isn't 30 years of accumulated baggage that's stinking things up. Maybe it's the fact that I've never resented her for being favored?! Maybe it's the fact that she didn't watch me slowly killing myself one drink at a time?! It's all dick! The past really isn't something that should be preventing Tonya and I from having a healthy relationship. Where there's a will there's a way...she just has never put any effort into getting to know me. None.
Cindy e-mails me daily. Asks me about work, my love life, my soccer team...it makes my sky brighter. Even though we've never met, she lets me know from afar that she cares. I recently sent both Tonya and Cindy a link to check out the merchandise store I created for the soccer team I'm coaching this summer. I never heard a word from Tonya, but you'd better believe that Cindy acknowledged clicking the link and spending a minute or two exploring something that I was interested in.
I'm not sure I have point. I'm just trying to shed light on a very frustrating scenario. It really doesn't take a lot of effort to make a person feel that they're not a complete waste of sperm and egg...my sister Tonya is apparently unaware of this. | | comments: 18 comments or Leave a comment |
| Tony was our music instructor's son. He had everything going for him and then some. He was bright, good looking, athletic...the natural choice for prom king.
Tony graduated from college and returned to Kingsford. He became the principal at one of the local elementary schools. One weekend, he decided to borrow some video equipment from the school. That weekend, he decided to try his hand at amateur porn with the girl he was seeing. Tony forgot to remove the tape from the camera before returning it back to the school.
Tony is no longer the principal.
The End.
Do movies influence people's decision making, or does people's decision making influence movies? You decide. | | comments: 6 comments or Leave a comment |
| Ever hear the story about the guy who gets caught screwing a pumpkin out in the patch? Well, it wasn't me! I just wanted to know if anyone other than myself had heard it. There is a reason I thought of it indirectly.
Billy D was obsessed with pussy long before I was aware if it was split vertically or horizontally (no Asian jokes, please). He told me that he read in Penthouse Forum that the inside of a vagina was similar to the inside of an orange. Looking back, it may have been a misconstrued reference to natural juices and he made the rest up.
One day after school, he pulled an orange out of the fridge and cut a hole through the peel. We took turns juicing that poor piece of citrus with our fingers until both of our hands were sticky. I'm not sure we drew any conclusions from that experiment other than we were both horny eighth graders. | | comments: 23 comments or Leave a comment |
| I was recently contacted about my upcoming 20th class reunion. I don't plan on attending. The e-mail was sent from a guy whose locker was next to mine for four years. He was your stereotypical jock. Far too much testosterone for my liking.
He mentioned the good times he remembered.
The very first thought that came to mind about the guy was the time that he and and a few other jocks smeared Icy Hot in my whitey tighties while I was in the shower after gym class. They made damned sure they were snug when I put them on! I was late for Biology because I needed to take a cold shower to put out the flames on my balls.
I also remembered the time that somebody threw a huge wad of gum in my hair in Biology and that very same guy cut it out with the tool we used in to dissect frogs.
Yeah, good fuckin' times. | | comments: 44 comments or Leave a comment |
| I recently started watching a fabulous TV series on DVD called Freaks and Geeks. If you're not familiar with it, check it out...it's been triggering a lot of childhood memories, that's for sure. In one episode, they swap barrels at a kegger with a half of non-alcoholic brew. It brought this story to the surface:
Mrs. Gertsch was my 4th grade teacher at Westwood School. She was your stereotypical elementary school teacher back then...dictator, old, paddle in hand (and not afraid to use it). We planned a surprise for her Birthday...that surprise was me with a bagful of ripped up paper hiding in her jacket closet. There's no question that I startled her that day. She swatted at me with a wire hanger as paper confetti filled the air.
We brought and shared various snacks. One of my classmates (Gary Lindberg) brought a can of his Father's non-alcoholic beer. Does anyone remember Zing!? It may have been a local product...I think it was made by Kingsbury. Mrs. Gertsch allowed us to pass that can around that day...we really thought we were getting away with something.
Zing! Heh. | | comments: 21 comments or Leave a comment |
| You can count carbs and calories. You can monitor the distance you travel between point A and point B. Sadly, you can never tell when your attitude is affecting others until damage is done. Why can't an alarm go off if needed? I'd certainly buy a device like that.
With every year that passes, I grow in many ways...yet my attitude and behavior continues to plague me. I do realize the difference between right and wrong, but have a tendency to dangle too far over the edge. It's getting old. I'm getting old.
It's never too late to change. I think this is an area I need to focus on more than any other at the moment. It's so strange that it takes a carwreck or two before I take the time to acknowledge that the rims need to be polished.
Wax in hand. | | comments: 21 comments or Leave a comment |
| My cousin Melody flew in Thursday and spent the night. We took a stroll down memory lane that lasted until early morning. It felt good to have somebody to talk to that knew where I was coming from...that lived with the same people.
One conversation that I wasn't expecting to have was about my biological Father. She was under the impression that I had a relationship with him (or at least spent time with him). I found out that I wasn't the result of a one-night stand. My Mother had a relationship with him (the length or seriousness was uncertain). His name is Paul. While it's true that he split from the responsibilities of Fatherhood, Melody was under a very different impression about his life. I've always been told that he was a good for nothing alcoholic who spent time in prison for dealing drugs. Melody was totally unaware of the prison story.
One would think that by age 38, I would be aware of these things. I've always tip-toed around the subject because it seemed to upset my Mother too much. I think I'm past the point of carrying everyone's excess weight. I think the time has come to confront my Mother and get some answers. I'm not sure that there would be any point in pursuing a relationship with him at this point, but it would be still good to know. Maybe I'm wrong? | | comments: 46 comments or Leave a comment |
| | Subject: | Boone | | Time: | 08:21 pm |
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| I'm not exactly sure how he's related to my Mother, but Dan and his wife Gert were chosen to be my Godparents. They divorced and moved long before either would play any role in my life. Like most of my other relatives, Dan drank his life away. He found the cure about 20 years ago, but like myself, he had a hard time making social adjustments and became somewhat of a hermit. His daughter Melody (who was the cousin I tried to impress by farting in the tub when I was little...I think that post is in Kid Gloves if you're unfamiliar) e-mailed me recently and told me that Dan isn't doing very well health wise. I guess he's down to 120 pounds and struggling to stay alive. She's flying in to Green Bay tomorrow night to drive up to Michigan to visit him.
The only story about Dan (who was known to all as Boone) that comes to mind is when he stopped and visited me when I worked at the stereo store in Iron Mountain. Boone was a veteran. He had a purple heart. He visited the Veterans hospital my folks worked at on occassion for check-ups. I remember him stopping by one time and showing me the coin he received for 5 years of sobriety from AA. He was so damned proud of it...at that time, I was clueless to it's significance.
Years later... | | comments: 8 comments or Leave a comment |
| | Current Music: | Ted Leo & The Pharmacists - Me and Mia | | Subject: | Name That Tune | | Time: | 07:35 am |
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| I don't remember many specifics about this, but I do have tidbits to offer. When I was in 4th grade, our class had a play...or would it be called a program?! Anyhow, my role was that of the mouse...I came onstage during this part of the song and danced on one leg surrounded by a circle of classmates:
The mouse came out of his hiding place...he danced on one leg
The horse was horsin' around a lot...'til the mare got mad at him.
I can't place it. If anyone can fill in the blanks, please do so. I'm thinking that song "Sneaky Snake" was on the same album (or by the same performer). You HAVE to know that song:
Sneaky Snake goes dancin'...wigglin' and hissin'
Is that Tom T Hall? I'm too lazy to Google this morning...I'm listening to music and relaxing. Help me help myself!! | | comments: 26 comments or Leave a comment |
| I know I've mentioned this story to someone before...but I can't find any entries where I've written about it.
Dale Anderson (also known as Kabuki) was a grade ahead of me. He grew up in the Kingsford Heights with Beaver and I, but ran with a different crowd. I partied with Dale on numerous occassions, but nothing ever happened worth mentioning. There was something about Dale that everyone found interesting though...his older brother. His biological name escapes me at the moment. Dale's brother was the biker type...black leather jacket in 80 degree weather, long stringy hair, beard thicker than most national forests. There were many urban legends about him like the one about him falling out of a second story window while tripping on acid, and now won't sleep in a bed because his fear out heights is so bad. That's not why I'm writing this entry.
Dale's brother went through the court system to have his biological name legally changed. His new name was now the nickname he had been called so many years...Star Trek! I'm totally fucking serious!! I know this sounds absurd and unbelievable, but I've seen his driver's license...it's true.
I was driving down Pine Mountain road one Sunday afternoon, and saw Star Trek hitchin' it on the side of the road. I had no reason to fear him, so I pulled over and offered him a ride. He said he was going to a cookout at The Ritz...the roughest biker bar in the area. Star Trek lit one up on the way, and my Buick LeSabre magically turned into the USS Enterprise for a few hours.
I never saw him after that day. Live long and prosper, Star Trek!! | | comments: 23 comments or Leave a comment |
| Dying Is Easy: A little over twelve years ago, I found myself at life's crossroads. I had been pulled over for drunk driving (.24 BAC), and was sentenced to complete an outpatient program at the mental health center. My license was suspended for 7 months, but unless I successfully completed the program it would never return to my wallet. We've all been in situations where we were forced to make choices...this was the first time I was forced to look my problem in the eye and choose which road to travel.
Like many others put in the same situation, I entered the program in denial. I mean, what is an alcoholic/addict anyhow? I don't remember hiding bottles. I don't remember buying any crank. I don't remember sucking anyone's cock for blow. How could I possibly have a problem? I was just like everyone else...except I got caught, right?
Well, after years of living a clean lifestyle, I can tell you this...any time the way you choose to live your life affects your friends, family, or workplace in a negative manner...there's a problem. It's really irrelevant how often or how much you do...it's what happens while you're doing it. If your personality changes in the slightest...there's a problem. If your bills aren't getting paid...there's a problem. It really is that simple.
It would've been easy at this point to return to the hole I crawled out of. I could've moved back in with my parents and let them cushion my fall, but I didn't. I could've moved back to my home town where everybody knew my name and showered me with attention...but the fact remained that there's a time when a person needs to stand on their own two feet and confront their problems (without training wheels) or they'll always remain stagnant.
Recovery Is Hard: One of the first things that I noticed when I decided to sober up was that my phone stopped ringing. I also noticed that people stopped coming over. I always thought I was so fucking cool...fact is, I was totally clueless. All these friends I thought I had split the moment I went in a direction they didn't want to travel. There's a really big difference between a friend and a drinking/drug buddy...I learned that the hard way. A friend will support you regardless of what decision you make. A friend will be there for you.
It would've been so easy to turn my back on what I found so difficult and return to playing their reindeer games, but I chose to do something with my life. I decided to stop being a lemming and actual become the individual I thought I was prior to this. That hasn't changed. It's really sad to see people treading water their entire lives without being aware of it. It's even sadder to see a group of people treading that very same water. Misery will always love company, and as long as there's an open tavern...there will be company.
I was told that the success rate of completing a rehab program and staying sober was 3%...twelve years later, I'm still going strong!! Enough of this for now. | | comments: 29 comments or Leave a comment |
| As early as I can remember, I'd do anything for a laugh. I've always been the guy who would completely embarrass myself in whatever setting I was in to get a laugh. In 7th grade, I made my mark at the Junior High Talent Show.
Rod Spar and I had our own brand of humor when we were kids...I'm not sure many undertood it. We were heavily influenced by the antics that appeared on Saturday Night Live each weekend. We would spend the school week reenacting several of the skits we had seen the previous weekend. John Belushi was a God to us back then...I suppose in a way he still is.
We saw a poster in the hallway about an upcoming talent show that was being held in the High School auditorium, and decided to enter. We recruited two other classmates, and started scripting a Weekend Update skit that was tailored around activities happening at our school. I'm not sure if the audience was laughing at us or with us that day...but the laughter was continuous from the opening "I'm Lorne Gustafson and you're not!" well after the finale.
Being Italian, Rod Spar was particularly fond of Father Guido Sarducci. His impersonation of him was spot on. I was never all that great at doing impersonations, but I did an adequate Rosanne Roseannadanna...I was the obvious choice to throw on a wig and dress for said event. His Mother helped the two of us put our costumes together.
We had another skit later that afternoon that wasn't nearly as successful as our first. I hand crafted Mr. Bill, Sluggo, and Spot out of Play Doh...Rod Spar brought them to life from under the table...Lorne Gustafson smashed them with a Tonka truck and rubber mallet. It was somewhat ruined by the PA system being on the fritz...my voice was inaudble to the crowd. I still have to wonder if the teachers made the decision to keep the volume off after the antics of our first presentation.
Things were different for us in the school hallways after that. | | comments: 11 comments or Leave a comment |
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