Cave Scrawl

I am 33 and contemplative.

2012-02-10T18:34:00.000-08:00

I guess it's not a shock that I'm thinking about my life decisions right now. I'm 33 today, and I've been doing some things very right, and some things very wrong.

I live in a city where I have no friends whatsoever. There will be no escape celebration tonight. I'm just going to sit here and be 33. (I might not just sit. I might go for a very long bike ride in point of fact but I will be sitting by myself and I will be 33 for the first time tonight doing that.)

The mind will spin. I can't bring myself to do any school-work. The combination of doing that on both a Friday and my birthday is just too depressing to consider. I might go to the movies. But I doubt it. Right now the bike call is stronger.

I'd really like to get very very drunk. I don't think that I will. I hope that I won't. But I might change my mind, or my hope. Anyway, the fact is that would be much more fun if I had friends to be stoopid with and since I don't, I figure I won't.

Which has me back to questioning my life decisions.

I live in fucking San Antonio? Shit.

And I'm broke.

I dicked over my wife, so now she's my ex and I'm alone and too heartbroken to start over.

The economy's fucked.

L.A., Chicago, and NYC are almost as broke as I am, so I'm just not that optimistic that I can escape this city anytime soon. Sure I'm a teacher, and they need a teacher, but I can barely afford to visit and they can barely afford to hire. So...

I've gone all over the place emotionally today.

I was awake a full fifteen minutes before I realized it was my birthday. Shay sent me a weird text at midnight last night,

"What."

I didn't know. I read this when I woke up. I was confused. 15 minutes later I remembered it was my birthday and I figured that this was some strange "Happy Birthday" message from my brother. He likes to cryptic sometimes in uniquely NoCo sort of way. But he wasn't. Shay was trying to text someone else. I learned this later today in a perfectly sensible birthday text message. But the weird text did it's job. I realized that I was 33.

Mom called. I didn't answer. I was driving. Also, she left her usual birthday message which is her singing and that's more fun to have recorded. She texted later and I texted "Thank You" back.

I was listening to my buddy's podcast and he gave me a birthday shout out. That felt very good. I've got my share of narcissistic qualities and hearing my name come through my car speakers was pleasant. I had a big smile while driving to work and that is rare.

Then I got to school.

Where I'm doing something very very right.

[photo of me with a birthday banner made by one of my students was supposed to go here.]

My littles were determined to make Mr. Caveman's day.

For the last two weeks they've been planning behind my back.

Cupcakes were involved. One girl created a birthday banner. Several showed up to hide in the classroom to surprise me. They found me to unlock the door so that they could pull that feat off.

[Classroom morning message was supposed to be shown here.]

BTW I've spent the last few hours trying to get photos from flickr and/or picasa to get on this damned post but there is something that I'm clearly not getting.

They made a giant birthday card that's sitting right next to me as I type. The whole class signed it. Even our hallway custodian Mrs. Garcia got teary eyed when she saw that later today.

A lot of them decided to make me their own personal cards. Pictures of which were going to go...

[Here]

I have absolutely fantastic littles. They made eight eight hours of my birthday delightful and that's one hell of a party.

We finished off the day by watching a few of our students perform a sort of Big Bad Wolf Remix play that one of my girls wrote. It was commedia dell'arte gone very very wrong and it was cute as hell. I had to come in at the tail end as the Wizard of Gizzardville because we had two wolves who refused to die. #scenestealer

After school was over I got Chinese.

Drove home and realized my party was over. Darkness got all over me. Really bad traffic. Suicidal thoughts. No explanation for those but they were there.

Even so I'm in a pretty decent mood. 10 years from now I'll remember this birthday. I'll remember my students' surprise and their gifts. I'll remember how proud my little was who planned the whole thing. I'll have forgotten the drive and the shitty thoughts which are just part of my existence anyway, so they'll be replaced soon enough.

Hey guys. I spent like three hours trying to post photos onto this blog and failed. Now I'm really tired and my words are just rambling.

I didn't really get to finish off the optimistic part but my day all in all had more good parts than bad, so I won. I'm 33 and good with it. I've not only found my job but I've found my calling and that's one hell of a gift to go to bed with every night. So even if I get incredibly depressed at times, I'm actually pretty good. At some point I'll either escape this city or I'll make my peace with it. But 33 looks better than 32, even if doesn't look like it poised to pull of a say 17 or 9 (two very good years.)

Love you people.

Until Tomorrow...

Split Post. School Stuff then other Life Stuff.

2012-02-09T19:50:00.000-08:00

Dropped the school yourself idea on the littles today.

They love the idea.

My kid who I thought wanted to be an artist, nope, he wants to be an architect.

How cool is that. So he's going to learn about the profession and start his portfolio.

I put it to the kids like I was saying last night, "What if instead of me telling you what to learn, you came in here and learned what you wanted to learn?"

My architect pipes up immediately, "Yes. We should do that."

This next one comes from a girl who I was expecting to say, "What about unicorns?"

"I'm going to save Africa."

Little One just shot up to one of my all time favorite people. She came up with a plan to turn our Night at the Museum into a fund-raiser to help feed the hungry in Africa. She came up with this plan in about ten minutes from the point I shared the new plan with them.

Kid made me tear up. I just had to hug her while I pulled my composure back together.

I'm sharing this girl's idea because I want you to know that in all likelihood the state of Texas will deem her a failure after the STAAR test results return. She will most likely fail each one of the three tests she takes this year. We might get her past the reading test, but unless she has a major jump in math, well, she's going to flat out bomb that bad boy. There's a lot of reasons for it. She gets pretty major test anxiety, she's not that great at math yet, she's not a very strong reader either compared to her peers. I'd argue that that is just not where she's developed.

Fine, Valeria might not pass a state test.

She's busy.

She's going to save Africa.

I'm cool with that.

My buddy K. recommended this story to me and everyone else he knows. He did this because it is incredible.

Take a moment and stop reading this blog and go read some really great writing.

Back?

Speaking of Animals...

Conquered Week 7 Today.

Very happy to put this one behind me as I did not really like the mixes. Hopefully Week 8 sounds better because I'll be running even longer.

Ran 25 minutes without an interval three times this week.

Did not come easy. The legs are jelly but I have the feeling of a habit forming. I'm starting to keep my positive moods for a longer period of time.

Texas is a beautiful place to run. I went to another new (for me) park tonight. This one had a lighted path. Deer were everywhere. I love this down here. If you do anything outside then you are going to come across deer. Tonight I came across a pretty large family. A few crossed my path as I was running. The track went around in a half-mile circle and the deer had gathered in the middle to grab dinner. When I finished the jog, it's probably a lie to call it a run, I stopped to watch the deer eat.

Bambi was out with the folks and she noticed me staring, but Mom looked at me, saw a fat caveman who forgot how to hunt at least three generations ago and went back to her meal. Bambi figured that Mom couldn't be too wrong, so she positioned herself behind Mom and went back to eating. I stood there for awhile just watching 8 deer eat. It was nice.

I'm going to bed now.

Until Tomorrow...

Getting Out from Under the Papers.

2012-02-08T18:44:00.000-08:00

This is good news bad news.

Very soon I will have some hilarious excerpts from my students' writing. Bad news, I have to grade all of this so I will be under a pile of papers and unavailable for a moment.

On the horizon I hope to spark some new projects for the littles.

This is perhaps the one positive I can take from the 4 hours of testing my kiddos went through today. While I walked around the room I thought of all the things I'd rather be doing with our class.

I wondered what it would be like if every kid got 45 minutes each day to explore whatever topic they wanted.

What if I turned my classroom into a think tank? I've got a little boy who could be a great artist. The only problem is that art education has been cut from our school district. I'm a shit artist so I really can't teach him anything. Seriously, he's nine and a much better artist than me. But I could get him some paper and charcoal and say "Go." Maybe I'll throw him a few books of pictures and "how to" manuals to inspire him. I've got another little man who loves cars. Why not give him a project where he can explore cars to his heart's content. Maybe he can come back with 4 theoretical buyers and explain which cars are best for who. Doesn't this sound like a more valuable lesson than "How to Write a 4-Point Paper?"

I've got a girl who wants to be a vet.

Another who misses her daddy in Afghanistan and wants to make something for him.

A girl who wants to write plays.

Another who wants to be a rock star.

Why not? Why not teach them what happens when you set aside 45 minutes everyday to work towards your dream. Why not let them find out?

What if every class and every grade was like this?

What if by your senior year this is what your entire day was?

What would you have become if that was your school? What will our kids become if we let this be their school?

Unless someone stops me, I'm going to do this.

Lotta Love

2012-02-07T19:21:00.000-08:00

I've got to keep it short tonight - I'm doing job research before I go to sleep.

Thank you to all of you for the love you showed for yesterday's post. Thank you for the comments and thank you for reposting and retweeting. I really appreciated it.

I carried that love into the classroom and I will keep it there all week while my littles keep testing.

In other news...

I really didn't want to run today.

But I did.

Went to a different park and it was great until the sun set and I remembered that this is where I always here the coyotes. I picked up my time though. (Really wanted to type a smiley face here but I resisted.)

Ate tilapia for dinner.

I'm still fat as hell but I'm feeling stronger so maybe something is going on in my core.

Tonight I will go to sleep after reading some more Ulysses.

Tomorrow is new comic day.

Until Tomorrow...

Testing Week, or Creating Bricks for Walls (I Go Off)

2012-02-06T17:53:00.000-08:00

Did I post this just two weeks ago?

My school district, is testing again. This is what education has become. Testing instead of teaching. We lock the whole school down. Our principal will do a class by class walk-through and give our kids a "pep-talk." This cozy little chat will include false promises of trips to the moon for the kids who pass and idle - but convincing - threats that any kid who fails will not only be retained, but might just get sent back a grade. After this I will console a few kids who are rather concerned and walk at least one kid through her first full-blown panic attack.

I'm beginning to think that the panic attack has become our newest rite of passage. You haven't really been indoctrinated into modern American culture unless its unrealistic demands and threat of complete annihilation have not come crashing down upon you, crushing your very soul and making you realize how small and absolutely hopeless you are in the face of the great American Machine. Mine came when I was 28. Which I think is rather young for an adult without children. I am positive however that 9 is absolutely too young. But I will see a few littles realize tomorrow that the game is rigged and the world is designed to crush them. They will cry. I will hug them and do my best to shove the bogey-man back in the closet, but the damage will be done. Eventually they'll accept that it all has been a set-up, and they have been written off.

It is criminal what we do to children today. Schools are worse now than they ever where under the wooden paddle regime. The fear we put into kids with the testing culture goes to some deep and darker place. At least if a principal spanked you, you knew exactly who to hate, the principal and the teacher who sent you there. Now kids, who are put up against this faceless monster of a test that determines their worth to the state, struggle to put a face to this demon, and instead of hating me, their teacher, or their principal, or better yet the asshole politicians and educational leaders who force them to go through this shit every year, instead of placing their hate onto any of these perfectly acceptable recipients, what I see happening are kids who hate themselves.

They hate themselves because they see themselves as failures and incapable of achievement. They learn this before they're emotionally developed and equipped to deal with this level of failure. They learn that they're stupid, before their brain has even developed enough for anyone to actually determine the accuracy of that assessment. But they are too young to realize that the developers of these tests are dip-shits so removed from childhood or diverse cultures that they are unable to create anything even approximating a decent test.

The truth is that if our politicians actually cared about our schools, then they would deign to finally STEP FOOT into our schools.

Do you know how often I've seen our city district rep come visit for a walkthrough?

Never.

Our School Board Rep?

Never.

Our Superintendent?

Never.

Our Mayor?

Never.

Our State Rep?

Never.

Our State Senator?

Never.

Our Governor?

Never.

Our U.S. Rep?

Never.

Our U.S. Senator?

Never.

Our President?

Never.

Now, I know that the higher up in office I go the more unrealistic that ideal is, but seriously, look back at the top of that list. Where the fuck else should my school board be? In three years I've never seen one member of the school board actually walk into my class to see what's happening. I've never seen our superintendent shake hands with our kids, let alone sit and quietly observe how they learn. Also, whenever any person of note shows up, it seems to be for a photo-op. It's instantly in the newspaper and on the district website.

Am I so ridiculous to think that visiting our schools should be so common for city leaders that it shouldn't be NEWS when they do. This should just be the norm. Every single state and city leader should be required to sit and observe school for at least 4 hours a week. This may be why the federal gov't. is trying to take over education, unless it's altering the propaganda, our state doesn't give a shit about education.

A tester has never walked into my room to see how my students are learning. No leader walks into our schools, but somehow they all feel qualified to state what the problems are and what needs to be done to fix them.

Apparently the solution is creating a pressure chamber of testing anxiety where our children suffer nervous breakdowns before they can even resort to that first lovely anti-depressant, masturbation. This is bad.

There is a place for assessments. Decent assessments can provide an accurate picture of what our kids are struggling to understand and help us determine the best course of action in terms of addressing those needs. But there is no place for shitty assessments that show up once, out of nowhere, are developed in secrecy, and treated as the authority on our children's merit.

If you want to assess my students and my teaching walk into my classroom and tell me what you see. Come on in. And don't do a little 5 minute walk-through. Come in. Stay awhile. I vote two-weeks. It's cool, I've got a comfy body pillow, that I bought, for my kids to use when they hang out in my class library, that I also bought. Chill on the rug that I bought. You can even read a book that I bought. I've got plenty. This year alone I've made improvements and bought over $1,000 worth of supplies to help my kids. You're welcome to use it. In fact, I insist that you do. It's my hope that you'll remember that the next time you allow me only $250 of teaching-related write-offs on my taxes, Asshole. AnyHoo. Just walk in and watch. Then tell me to my face that I'm a bad teacher. Because we both know that testing is our government's passive-aggressive way of saying "teachers suck." No. Walk on in and tell me. And don't do it by making my kids feel like they somehow failed me or themselves. Just tell me to my face. It wouldn't hurt to offer a friendly suggestion. But again, I warn, if you do walk in, and only stay for a few minutes, I'm going take that little memo you wrote and shove right back up your worthless ass. JK!!! Actually, I'll just put it in the recycle bin - that I made for our class. And on Wednesday my kids will collect it, along with the rest of the paper our school uses and recycle it. This will happen after school during our recycling club on Wednesday. A club I created and I run. For free. No time deductions on the tax returns either. Although I could be tutoring at a certain for-profit institution and I really do need the money, I choose to take my civic responsibilities seriously and since I took a position of responsibility, I intend to act like it. Asshole.

I'm really nice to kids.

But I'm not so forgiving of adults who act like kids.

Especially when those adults have some position of authority.

If our politicians where serious about education they would show up. They'd be in there, watching, coming up with real ideas. They would not be giving shitty multiple-choice tests. Observe some schools. Create some performance assessments, where kids can create some intellectually stimulating work. Do random interviews with students to gauge the school and classroom environment. Create tests that are not multiple choice but instead are written answer, that allow children to show their thought processes and grade on a rubric instead of a right or wrong. That way if a student who knew they needed to multiply but made a small mistake and couldn't find his or her answer choice, so she just picked "C" in frustration, we could instead award the child 3 out of 4. Her problem-solving was on the right track but she couldn't execute.

If you think this is coddling, go take a look at the tests we give kids today. They're fucking hard. The parents of our kids fail them. Math tests aren't really math tests, they're reading tests in disguise. That goes for the rest of them as well. I took the GRE about 8 years back and the Language Arts section was easier on that than it is on the state test for my 4th graders. What kind of ridiculous shit is that?

It's completely unnecessary.

It is completely criminal.

Everyday we force children to endure torture and we call it education. Perhaps this makes sense to cynical among you, but I am not that person.

Politicians who are afraid to confront a culture of mediocrity, who are too cowardly to confront parents who treat school like daycare, choose to pass the pain on to children. If that is not enough to make you look at these people in disgust I do not know what is.

As a teacher I am complicit in all of this. I am the one who serves up the test. I am the one who at least on some level gives this test it's personal validity to the kids. They see me give the test and they think that means it is credible. I am a partner in this lie of The Test. I do not know how I could escape this compromise and still be allowed to teach.

I do everything I can to shield my kids from this crap. I try to sneak in projects and stray away from the teach the test mentality as much as I can get away with. I work to teach my kids to always try their best, but also to always refuse to accept a label that has been placed upon them that they do not themselves agree with. I hold them while they cry and I tell them that regardless of what any test says, I am proud of them because I am their teacher, and I know more than that test. I know how hard they worked. I know how much they improved. I know their heart is good and they are so much more than some asshole's piece of data. I watch tiny human beings struggle with these ridiculous expectations of sameness that is placed on them. Kids develop at different rates. But there is no room for this in any test that is given right now. I tell them I love them and that I'm proud of them and then I hope like hell that this is the lesson that they'll take from my class. I hope that this is the moment they'll remember, that despite all the nonsense that might come at them from any direction, that there will always be a few decent people who will remind you that you are important, and that life is infinitely better if you choose to be that type of person. I hope that instead of taking away the self-image of failure they take the self-image of worth and that they choose to offer that lesson to someone else someday.

I hope those things while my littles try to get by.

Wow,

I was planning on writing about the anti-inflammatory diet and my hope to start cooking this week.

Until Tomorrow...

Lacking a Novel I will...

2012-02-05T19:43:00.000-08:00

Update you on the progress of said novel every Sunday.

Okay. So I'm going to ask everyone to be a little patient with me on this. Because once I start it there will be no turning back. Because of this I want to have a really strong outline for where this goes. I'm trying to use a television story-plotting style.

So...

What has the CaveMan been doing with his story. Well... mostly research on writing. I need a lot of help with this level of plot detail. My hope is to create a world that I can return to with other stories and characters. Also, once this gets rolling I want to know when I'll be introducing different elements of the world.

I'm not going to go overboard with the minute details. I have a general destination in mind but I do not know how it will play out for our hero, and I sincerely hope that despite my planning, I won't know how it will end up for Syd until I finish it sometime next year.

Researching brain cancer, St. Louis gangs, and substitute teaching.

Looking forward to venting on Dog Shit. We need to start a movement. People who do not pick up after their dogs are assholes. My apartment complex is a mine field of shit. More to come.

Finally, I am really really happy that the Giants won tonight. We just saw Eli play his way into the Hall. Not sure if you saw the shot of Robert Kraft standing alone after the game though. That was heartbreaking sad.

Until Tomorrow...

Only 11 More to Go.

2012-02-04T21:35:00.000-08:00

Here we are Dear Internet.

1/12 of the way through this bad boy. Very happy to have anything to put a signpost on so I'm going to take this moment to pat myself on the back.

Moment.

Let's take stock in a comparison of me and me a month ago.

I feel different since committing to this blog. Different in a good way. I'm not completely ready to put it all on the blog yet, it's possible that I'm going through another high phase of mine before I get good and Dark. But my gut is telling me that I've started doing something really important for my health here.

I still eat poorly.
Work remains up and down, minute-to-minute.
I still want to leave San Antonio but am not doing nearly enough to make that happen.
Cigarettes still smell good but I still don't smoke them.
I haven't written any poetry.

I masturbate a lot less. (Someday, I'll need to talk about how insane that got. Not quite ready yet. I don't think you are either.)
This was the first month since July of last year where I can say with certitude that I had more good days than bad.
I'm a faster typist.
Comic books have returned to my life.
Less Masturbation = More Time to Type.
My knees hurt on a pretty much daily basis.
I can run a fair amount further.
I've lost 6 pounds.
I haven't gotten drunk.
I feel much less depressed in general.
I feel like I have more friends.

I had to put both positives and negatives down and I really should have started on this list sooner in the month. This little thing is not the fucking secret or anything. It's not a cure-all. But it's been remarkably special to me. Again, I thank each and every one of you who read this and comment in whatever way you do. Absolutely no one has to read this and the fact that several of you regularly show up to see how I'm doing has really touched me. Thank you friends.

Looking forward to February I'd like to start putting in place that structure I've been talking about and if that doesn't happen I'd like to at least put a little more work on the posts before I spit them out at you.

I do like sometimes just sitting down and throwing out exactly what my brain is spinning in circles about, but other nights, Dear Internet, I do believe you deserve more. - and before you think that means anything, I also plan to be more forgiving of myself on the nights I sit down and cannot put together a decent blog.

I put it out there in the beginning.

Quantity not Quality.

Until Tomorrow

Really Close to Something Special

2012-02-03T22:08:00.000-08:00

Hey everybody.

Tonight I gotta keep it short. My big brother, who is much smaller than me, is in town and we're rocking it quite well. Tomorrow there will be a Spurs game and other misadventures. Tonight we saw Chronicle. I don't know if you will like it Dear Internet - but we did.

Other notes:

The etymology of the word "motherfucker" has not been forgotten. Unfortunately though, after all of this wait, it had better be damned good.

Also tomorrow will be the one month birthday of blogging everyday.

Just try and guess what I'll be writing about tomorrow.

Ulysses is very good, I do suggest reading it along with some sort of criticism unless you are already an expert on Homer, Buddhism, Irish history and the Bible. In which case, have at it. This is one of those stories that is worth the effort. Joyce's brain will humble you and delight you at the same time.

In short, you may not like Chronicle, that is understandable, but I really hope you like Ulysses.

Until Tomorrow...

Fun Times...

2012-02-02T18:35:00.000-08:00

There's this scene from The Money Pit, or at least I'm pretty sure that's what it's from, where Tom Hanks is running with this fat funny dude who keeps having heart attacks when he goes for a run.

When I was seven this shit was hilarious to me. The movie is still funny. I'm searching for it on my DVR now... nope. That scene, which wasn't even the 5th best scene in that movie, has always stuck with me. It's been cropping up regularly lately. Why.

The Fatman still runs!

3.62 km tonight. Straight run for 25 minutes. My knees screamed the entire time. A guy with a parachute on passed me... three times. But I kept running. I am being rather cruel to the word "running" but I just can't say "panting shuffle-push while-trying-not-to-fall" over and over again. So. I am still running. Something has to be done about this knee thing.

For the first time I think I have a reason that might actually work at motivating me to eat healthier. I've got to lose some weight so this shit doesn't hurt so much. After I finish this and run that first 5K I'm taking a couple weeks and just cycling. Shit hurts y'all.

A running fantasy has been developing and it is time I share it with you as it is beginning to take a life of its own.

When I run, I do everything I can to not consciously recognize that I am running. I make it someone else doing this. I try to trance out to my music. I invent scenarios that cast in the role of the Borg or some such shit. I have one fantasy that I always return to.

The Buffalo.

I picture buffalo running. My job is to keep up with the buffalo for a certain amount of time before I am relieved. Follow the buffalo Caveman. Follow the buffalo.

I am very serious about it.

For quite awhile just imaging buffalo and myself chasing them was enough. At some point however the vision evolved. I guess the harder these runs get the more I try to plunge my psyche into these visions.

It's 10,000 years ago.

I feel the grass brush my legs. Hunters run to my left and right. We run together so that we can spell each other and never lose sight of our prey. Some carry spears. I carry a knife in my teeth because even 10,000 years ago, man needed Rambo. I am Rambo the Caveman Buffalo Runner. That is my Indian name. I am Hunter. I can feel the rhythm of fellowship running all around me. It's impossible to stop running when you are surrounded by people who are just as hungry and in just as much pain as you. I run. I smell buffalo dung. I pray for rain. Mountains in the distance.

And these fucking buffalo keep turning left every quarter mile. But that's when I gain just a bit.

Tonight the vision got more complex. I was adding another 5 minutes to the run which gave rise to a new savage aspect of my people.

We run until we die. Some of us never catch a buffalo. We spend all of our days running and never catch one. But should we catch one we will bask in the glory of life as we share our prey with our tribe. I have a wife and kids, hungry. They follow miles behind hoping that at the end of their trek they will see Father Caveman with blood on his face. As I run I have to swerve around the bodies of my fallen brothers. We run until we die. I can see my son's unforgiving eyes. Hunger holds no compassion. I will run until I die. I have been running since my own father died. He died running. When I die, my son will run. My son is still too small to run. I cannot die yet. I will keep running. The buffalo.

____

I have no idea where this going. It's like I'm experiencing a waking dream. I'm too tired to consciously work out my alter-life, so this shit just plays on some weird Discovery Channel meets Moby meets please god make the music stop adventure. What's funny is I never catch the fucking buffalo. It works perfect that way because I never know when the music will tell me to slow down, so I can never let myself catch the beast otherwise I'd have an excuse to stop.

I do sort of think that should the unthinkable happen while I'm running that my brain's last effort will be to send me to that little hellish heaven before the lights go out. Blood on my face.

Just read this.

Oh fuck.

I guess I'm crazy.

On another note.

I have to share my favorite quote. I already put this on FB and Twitter so you can stop now if you want.

Today I was tutoring Martius on migration.

Me: Okay buddy, what season comes in March?

Martius: Ummm... Leprechaun Day?

If that's the little fucker I'm chasing buffalo for, then I'll run forever. These kids are fantastic. I have been laughing at odd moments all day thinking about him saying that.

Until Tomorrow...

Job Applications

2012-02-01T17:18:00.001-08:00

I'm postponing the etymology post.

Indulge me. I'm going to share with you my favorite snippets from my students' efforts on their job applications.

This is my favorite assignment that I give the kids. I talk with the students about our class jobs. They tell me what jobs they like and what jobs suck and what new jobs I should replace them with. Something bears very little resemblance to the real world, but hey - let the little shits dream. Once they let me know what jobs they'd like, I put everything on a little job application and each kid lists his or her top 5 job choices.

Then they have to... "Convince me in two to three sentences..." to award them their top job choice.

That's when the fun starts.

Tonight I will share their efforts of influence with you.

I'll give a fake name to the kid. Then I'll list their top 5 choices. Then I'll share highlights from their applications. Finally, I'll let you know what job they won. This will suck for some. But is so much fun for me and most.

My personal notes will be written in pink.

Abelia:

TOP 5: 1. PBIS Officer The person who records who got in trouble today. 2. Boys' Bathroom Cop BOYS BATHROOM COP!!! YES!!! I love San Antonio! 3. Poster Person The person who puts up classroom work. 4. Attendance Taker 5. Messenger

ARGUMENT:

"I wrilly what to be PBIS officr Becuse I tell the truth and I will try willy wily hand to not talk in class and it is a very good job for me."

Aww kiddo. I want to give her the job but it's going to be tough. She scores a 2 out of 4. Chances are she ends up with Attendance or takes a job not listed. Boys Bathroom Cop!!! Wrilly Lisa? Willy? For the record, my bathroom cops actually hang out in the bathroom they're policing. Not sure how she thought she was going to grab that job, but I applaud her daring - and I fear it.

Awarded the position: Poster Person

Martialis:

TOP 5: 1. Board Wiper 2. Door Holder 3. Homework Collector 4. Line Officer 5. Doctor My doctor gives each kid hand sanitizer before we go to lunch.

ARGUMENT:

I will a good job on BW/SK. I will do good job like Nicé my previous board wiper.

Awarded the position: Board Wiper

Iola T:

TOP 5: 1. I.T. 2. PBIS Officer 3. Homework Collector 4. Homework Stamper 5. Veterinarian

ARGUMENT:

... it is a easy job ... and I is my own Initials.

Awarded the position: Homework Collector

Accalia:

TOP 5: 1. Teacher A. 2. Attendance 3. Messenger 4. Poster Person 5. Calendar Person

ARGUMENT:

I think yo should give me it because I will do really good at it. I will help youso much with anyghing even to do other peoples Job when the are gone it might make me do a lot but I am WELLING to do anything I will bring me math grade up and everything else so I hope you pick me

MY FAVORITE!

Adelphia:

TOP 5: 1. KTK Keeper Schedules Tutoring Sessions 2. Job Supervisor 3. Attendance 4. I.T. 5. PBIS Officer

ARGUMENT:

Mr. Romanus if you do not give me I.T. I'll cry.
Mr. Romanus if you don't give me I.T. you will not get a B-Day preesnt. Yell get a mud pie and a 2 week old cake.

Awarded the position: KTK Keeper. Oooh I'm tempting vengeance here.

Maxim:

TOP 5: 1. PBIS 2. I.T. 3. Doctor 4. Veteran We are a military city. 5. Homework Kepper

ARGUMENT:

Hear the voice of the child Rainn Wilson:

... the veteran I would like because = have weird pets like a green amoil lizard, or desert lizard who likes sand. the second one is pbis is because I've done befroe but now it has gotten a lot better I would want it. p.s veteranarian I like because I had to feed a austrilian red adn white border collie and even make him exercize him for an hour so I'm good with pets.

Awarded the position: Doctor He's going to love this job wayyyyyy too much.

Twenty jobs altogether. I have to admit I thought these were going to be funnier. The earlier ones were so much worse. I'm not sure how to feel frankly. The fact that they were so much better, I guess I'm actually teaching something. Dey all grows up and dey all grows up and dey all. grows. up.

Tomorrow will be the big reveal. I'll need to pull Adelphis aside and make sure she doesn't actually cry and tell her that I think she wrote a great application. I'll have to play on the better nature of a few of my littles and let them know that they'll be doing me a big favor if they take a job they didn't ask for.

I really do love this assignment. And the kids love it too. They love being able to debate the jobs and watch me get rid of the ones they don't like. They've made up at least half of the jobs now available. But... still... when I think about the applications, the manipulations, and the idea that I might be creating a few more bricks... well - it's just too depressing if you think about too much.

Anyway, I hope this window into my class was fun for you.

If nothing else, I found out that it is a lot of fun to use Roman Names for aliases.

Until Tomorrow...

3.06 kilometers

2012-01-31T18:16:00.000-08:00

After the 5-minute warmup I ran 10 minutes walked 3 minutes and ran another 10 minutes. This took me a little further.

Breached the 3K mark. Which I'm a little stoked about. I'm pushing back my race date to the end of March. I'm still going to run my first 5K by the end of February, but I want to normalize before I run in a race and March 4th seemed a little soon.

My legs are touch jelly.

I'm down another pound and I feel less and less worried that I'm going to keel over and die any minute now.

Which is nice.

Today was my favorite mix on the Podrunner series. I was warming up with a cheeseball smile because of the first song.

Perhaps the most frightening part of this running adventure is the possibility that techno is growing on me. Oh wait - I'm 32 years old, I love comic books, video games, and playing chess puzzles. I have no shame. So what shit do I give if I develop a taste for techno.

What I do know is that I like the songs that are able to surprise me with weird sounds that are a bit playful but don't fuck with the beat too much. When I'm running, or imaginating myself dancing, I don't want to be wondering where the beat is. I need it to push me forward. If it gets sloppy or overly complicated I have to start thinking about the running and trying to put my feet to the rhythm again. And the whole point to the techno is that I don't want to think of the beat.

So... my thoughts on that are clear eh..

Other news:

Last night DailyShow/Colbert Report chase scene was hilarious. You should watch.

The Daily Show With Jon Stewart

Mon - Thurs 11p / 10c

Exclusive - Colbert Super PAC - The Great Chase

www.thedailyshow.com

Daily Show Full Episodes

Political Humor & Satire Blog

The Daily Show on Facebook

Wyatt, I am rolling.

2012-01-30T18:25:00.000-08:00

Well everyone, I'm back up. Yesterday sucked on a level that I may have slightly overreacted to. I'm on the upswing.

Several Contributing Factors:

Red Velvet cupcake.
It rained in San Antonio, which it rarely does and I love the rain.
Mizzou is playing Texas on the television as I type.
I'm hopelessly optimistic that my students will eventually get their shit together despite a fair amount of evidence to the contrary.
I ate Country Fried Steak about two hours ago.
And a Red Velvet cupcake.
Finally, I grabbed a couple ugh... So You Wanna Write a Novel? type books. Which gives me that false sense of accomplishment consumerism so readily provides. I do wonder how hard it is for the good folks at Barnes and Noble not to laugh every time someone walks up with any of these books. It must be a difficult position. I do appreciate their strength of will and decency.
Mizzou just scored. 26-28 our guys.
Red Velvet cupcake. (my version of the Red Solo Cup)

Too rainy to run today so I took the day to rest the knees which are still a little annoyed with me.

Tomorrow offers another update on the jogging.

Wednesday I will examine the word "motherfucker."

I want to devote the proper amount of research to the etymology of the word before we dive in.

Missouri goes into the half up by 5.

Time to go to bed.

Until Tomorrow...

rrraaahhhhhhhhhHHHHHH!

2012-01-29T19:57:00.000-08:00

very frustrating day.

i feel like i have done nothing this weekend but grade papers and tests and do laundry.

impressively annoyed.

it's ten and i have to go to bed and i'm still not done grading.

i actually had plans of grandeur for this weekend.

i wanted to get started on the outline.

i did not

i wanted to share lines from my kids essays with you this evening.

i did not

i didn't even get that far into the grading.

there are times i really hate being a teacher and the society that thinks this job is cake.

this is one of those times.

i'll be getting up a 5 a.m. so that i can tutor a kid for free before school.

so... i'm going to be bed now in the hopes that i can sleep off my pissy mood.

until tomorrow...

P.S.

While ironing clothes I watched the series premier of Luck on HBO. Looks to be very good.

Week 6

2012-01-28T21:00:00.000-08:00

Mostly graded papers all damn day. But before I subjected myself to the emotional hell of finding out exactly how awful my littles are with pretty much everything I tried to teach last week, I submitted myself to the physical hell of exercise. The physical hell... not all bad.

I was sore after last night's ride so I decided to warm myself up with another ride over to the park before I started on the run. No singing today, my voice was sore too. Quality bruises on the ass. I think I rode a mile before my mind finally accepted the state of things and turned down the pain receptors in Glute 1 and Glute 2. Played Arcade Fire on my way and immediately wish I went with Hail Mary Mallon instead. I was in an absurdest mood and Aesop soothes my soul on days like these.

Got to the park in pretty decent shape.

Today's Menu: A Recovery Jog after my first 20-minute run.

5 minute warm-up walk
5 minute jog
3 minute walk
8 minute jog
3 minute walk
5 minute jog
4 minute cooldown

Stretched, walked, and then -

Oh Shit! My knees HURT! My train of thought was something like... step-step, step-step, step-step - then iPod tells me to run and - SHIT-SHIT, SHIT-SHIT, SHit-shit, shit-shit... well I guess this isn't going to stop so I just kept running. Somewhere near the end of the first 5-minute jog my legs finally accepted that it was going to keep going and the pain faded.

It's been awhile since I went to this park and I ran further on it today than I ever have. That was a nice feeling.

I still regularly get passed up by pretty much everyone, but I'm good with that. I managed to pass up the walkers.

The Fat Man is a little less fat. 234 last week. 229 today.

Qual

Tomorrow I grade the compositions. That's where the fun starts.

I also owe y'all a catch up on my comic discoveries and those I've dropped.

Until Tomorrow

Filling the World with Song

2012-01-27T19:00:00.000-08:00

An exercise Dear Internet.

Picture the scene.

'Tis evening-fall. Embers of a dying sun give life to the dust that forever hovers in the San Antonio air. There is a small hill, made giant by the relative flatness of the surrounding land. On this hill a road, Blanco, provides the avenue for the comers and goers of North San Antonio. Pick-ups, minivans, two-doors and sedans chauffeur the drivers, who, after another long week of working towards a questionable purpose, seem to be on autopilot as they consider this weekend's adventures or the lack thereof.

One such driver is quite awake after just having almost hit a man on a bicycle. Her heart is pounding as she imagines having almost spent the next hour explaining to police how she came to kill this person. She wonders why anyone would choose to ride a bicycle when gyms all over the city provide perfectly good stationary bikes that allow you to watch t.v. while you ride. With the added benefit of almost guaranteed safety. She wonders why she must share the road, NAY the city, with madmen like these. These thoughts pass quickly however as her attention is diverted to the latest lol that's just been texted to her.

Blanco runs North-South. Up and down hills that provide a beautiful view of the outskirts of the city. San Antonio is home to many parks and Blanco seems designed to show these off to attentive rider.

Meanwhile, on the west side of the road, a plump woman takes a seat at a bus stop. Though many a driver is unaware, San Antonio does in fact have a public transit system. Should this system breakdown, it will be chaos at each and every grocery store, as probably ninety-percent of the workers will no longer have a way to get there (This statistic brought to you by the fallible imagination of your CaveMan). In all likelihood our plump woman is probably on her way to work now. We can guess that she is a grocer by the bright red tee-shirt she wears, the shirt of the popular grocery chain of Henry E. Butts, known as H.E.B.

I ask you Dear Internet to become this woman. I give you this moment. You are sitting on the bench. Feel the plastic-coated metal against your ass. Feel the tattooing of the waffle pattern on your flesh. Waiting for the bus. Smell the exhaust and asphalt. Perhaps you're a touch annoyed that a few more tax dollars cannot be spent to make sure there are enough buses to ensure timeliness in this little city. You hug yourself, it's been a warm day but as night falls so does the temperature in this drought-suffering city.

What is that sound?

A light flashes from the crest of the hill. You look north expecting the flicker of the bus's headlights. You start to rise but halt yourself.

It's only one small flashing light. A flashing light bearing the strange siren that first caught your attention picks up speed as it gains momentum coming down Blanco. The flashing light is screaming. At first you can't make out what the sound is. For a brief moment you think that you are looking at the world's first one man ambulance.

What is this sight?

Yes Reader,

It is I!

Your Manic Caveman has gone cycling! And the trumpeting that snared the plump lady's ear you ask. No, not a siren. It is the harsh cry of The CaveMan. The Caveman SINGS!!! (Mumford & Sons "White Blank Page" in the event you're wondering.)

I hurtle down Blanco. Invigorated by my brush with death and determined to share my joy and mania with the world, I sing. I am full-throated and bringing it from my balls. Every bit of soul I have left is in my holler-song. I am tempted to stop and greet the plump woman and every other person I pass. I want to offer my blessings to every one I encounter. But I'm having too much fun to stop. So I ride faster and sing louder. I am simultaneously immersed in my senses as the world speeds by and watching myself in my minds eye. My mouth is wide open in a clown-sized smile. I am two hundred thirty-four pounds of furry man-beast flying down a hill on fucking bike and announcing my existence with song. My gut touches my legs as they pump me along. I feel my tits bounce and my jowls wiggle in the wind. The feeling makes me laugh.

This is easily a high point in my life.

I feel like I've invented peanut-butter and jelly.

Cycling

+ Singing

The Absolute Shit

Yes, when that woman saw me. She most likely saw a crazy person. Which is quite possibly true. But just behind me was a man jogging. And since he could only hear what was coming, he had to be positive a crazy person had just flown by him. Our plump woman and our jogger would then have shared a moment. Even if just a knowing glance that said:

"Wow. That was one crazy fat guy on a bike."

A shared chuckle?

I have to believe that I had to make their evenings at least a little bit entertaining.

What's crazy is this all almost never happened. My darkness was putting claws in my shoulders as I drove home from work tonight. I got home, changed into some normal clothes and headed out to hunt some fast food. As I drove towards Chinese I felt the claws getting deeper and was pretty sure that this was going to be one of those evenings where I gave in and bought a six to twelve pack and got drunk at home alone. I would finish the night by weeping while watching the Hedwig and The Angry Inch DVD sing-a-long feature. I would cry until I vomited and then crawl into bed with a vague hope that I would forget at least some of this. I was not imagining a future that has not often happened in the past. The truth is that is a good low for me. That's my Dark aiming high.

The thoughts were mounting and I was coming up with every reason to write off the night as well as the weekend and I was about 15 minutes from home when I just turned my car around and headed back. I decided to change clothes one more time and ride my bike instead.

If I'm going to be selfish, self-centered and childish, then I'm going to do it on a bicycle and I'm going to have some fun doing it.

I put my music on emotional blast and let my catharsis roll. I'm not exactly sure when my mood flipped. I know that I teared for a bit before it happened and I think I was still listening to The Avett Brothers. It was probably some time after that lady almost hit me.

I'm also not lying about that view that Blanco Road has. It's beautiful. And when there is wind blowing in your face and the sun is setting and you can see the entire World in front of you, it's pretty fucking hard to stay depressed. Balances shifted and I was happy and so happy I had to sing. I rode by some furry dude who was on his way to a bus stop. Just after I passed him I thought about what it would it have been like if I had just screamed at him, "Blessings upon you Citizen!"

That thought made me laugh and my only regret was that it didn't come in time for me to actually act on it. Then I started to sing.

And it might be my imagination but I really do think my singing made a lot of people giggle. Sure they may have been laughing at me but I've never really given a shit about that part. (In fact my theory about being laughed at is kind of like that Jesus style no one can steal what you give freely, no one can laugh at you when you decide that they're laughing with you.) Anyway people laughed.

A couple days ago I was listening to a program where a doctor was saying that the Dalai Lama said that if you just offer a moment of compassion to a stranger you make the world better. This made sense to me.

And for that joy I felt, and my sharing of this joy with complete strangers, I believe the world is better.

Finally, I am going to tell you that I am crying while I write this and I don't totally know why. I have an inkling that I escaped a pretty bad night and now I'm just overwhelmed with gratitude. I'm grateful that instead of a wasted night I might get a few more pages of Ulysses in. (Which by the way has become incredibly heavy-lifting. Joyce was saving for the 3rd chapter apparently. Beautiful though. Our boy Stephen Dedalus is up to his wily and detached ways. I think he just quit his teaching job but I'm not really sure.) I'm grateful that I'm not going to lose tomorrow suffering through a hangover.

And I am grateful that you read this.

Until Tomorrow,

CaveMan

Oh Sweet Opportunity

2012-01-26T18:01:00.000-08:00

My knees still hurt. But other than that I'm recovering from the run. And that's embarrassing - to admit that I'm referring to my post-run as if I'm post-op.

I am very tired and I smell an opportunity to do something that is just far too grand for me to let slip past: It is 8:06 p.m. as I write this and after I publish this post, I'm going to bed. It will be me, Ulysses, and The Fantastic Four.

Wow.

Reading those words. Sexy.

Apologies, Dear Internet. My evening will not be nearly as wild as it first appears. After some heavy and then light reading, I intend to nod off to The History of Rome Podcast.

Ohhhld age.

Until Tomorrow

2.81 km

2012-01-25T18:35:00.000-08:00

Half way there motherfuckers.

I just finished the last run of Week 5. No intervals. 20 minutes of jogging at 140 bpm.

My legs are jelly and I can feel the soreness settling in.

Saturday, Week 6 begins. The program will have me going for 25 minutes on Wednesday next week.

Holy shit this hurts.

Slowly the Fat Boy regains some semblance of health.

Until Tomorrow.

Ice Cubin' It.

2012-01-24T18:40:00.000-08:00

It was a good day.

The 10-10-10 writing plan worked out great. The kids loved being able to just write whatever they want. It also let them blow off steam. 10 minutes of quiet didn't hurt me either.

My student teacher and I managed to teach every subject. Something that hasn't happened since mid-October.

A parent I've been trying to meet for the entire damned year suddenly showed up after school. Mom agreed to let me tutor her boy before and after school. This is monumental. Lil' Man can barely read, but now I might finally get the kid caught up.

Got Paid BITCHES!!!

Ate Italian. Shut Up.

Started in on Ulysses. I know I'm missing plenty because the first chapter actually made sense. I'm reading Stuart Gilbert's study on it at the same time, so that doesn't hurt.

I've got an Incredible Hulk issue waiting for me after this post.

I've begun the research to write the novel. This is going to be so easy. The internet told me so. I'm not worried about it at all.

The last paragraph is total bullshit but just so you know, everything else was true.

A Fucking Excellent Day.

On the story.

Working title, courtesy of Beth, is Mr. Mental. Gimme two weeks to structure this bad boy and then I want to start posting on a blog that I'll link to this one. Like this blog, I do not promise one shred of quality. Although, if I'm being completely honest with you, which I have promised, I do hope the thing is at least entertaining. I was talking to Twunch in the comments from yesterday and he predicted what I have planned. Creating an online personality for Syd. I want the blog to be a space for readers to interact with the character as the story progresses. It could be a really fun way to experience a story. I have no idea if I'm up to this, but shit, does it really matter?

Also, Dzne, are your free this weekend for an interview? We can meet up at the Starbucks on San Pedro near 410. Let me know if you want to get together. Maybe we can even team up on interviewing others or come up with plans to help each other get interviews.

Until Tomorrow Homies.

Swinging for the Fences.

2012-01-23T19:38:00.000-08:00

Damn it!

Really planned to post more tonight but I got home late tonight and I should have gone to bed about 40 minutes ago. Instead, I'm going to have to give you only the most important information as it pops to mind

First Off,

My dear friend Twunch is back at it. Read his blog. His is the first that made me actually pay attention to this "bastard form of communication," (Twunch) in the first place. Twunch is funny, smart, and consistently original with his points of view. He also is really good at finding shit on the internet I had no idea existed. I would have never started this if not for him. And if I never started blogging, then I wouldn't know what Beth is doing and that would be tragic. True Fact.

P.S. Congrats Beth on the photo sale and a show with you and the Wizard needs to happen. You put it out there - I'm just saying. Needs to happen.

Professional Development today took a turn for the unexpected. I was sent to a training that was actually worth a damn. Inspiring a little bit. It was about teaching writing to 4th graders.

This is easily my favorite part of teaching. Children's writing is incredible and it is a crime that I haven't shared any with you yet. I promise that this week I will. We are allowed to teach writing for 30 minutes. About an hour ago I came up with the new plan of 10-10-10. I'm going to give the kids 10 minutes just to write whatever and however they want everyday. The next ten will be for grammar and I will do my damnedest to shorten this to 5. The last 10 will be for formal writing, be it creative, expository, etc. We'll see what happens.

Now for my plans.

Today I bought James' Joyce's Ulysses. This is a moment I've been waiting for. It seems like time. Me and Mr. Joyce are going to get together to for a pretty big dance. I've done a touch of research on the story, which is an insult to the word research and those who actually do it. Ulysses has always looked like the Everest of novels. Majestic, filled with beauty, but it's dangerous and could kill your desire to ever climb again. My time has come. I will update you on the events as they transpire.

Next,

I'm going to write a novel. It will not be Ulysses. It will not be literature at all. It will be horror or super-hero shit. That's where you come in. It's time for me to write one of two stories that has been floating in my head. Story One involves an ACDC cover-band that has to fight zombies in a small town that's being run over with the brain-eating bastards. How do they kill? With RaghhhhhhhKKKKKKK! Story Two is about a dude who after receiving the news that he has cancer decides to start meditating and blog his experiences. Our hero stumbles into a crazy trance where he not only cures himself of cancer but gains total control of his brain function and can make his body assume almost any form given time and meditation. He decides to become a super-hero and it does not go well.

Now, Dear Internet, the fact is that you are going to read one of these stories. You know you want to. Which one? Once I know which story to write I'm going to break down an outline and put out material every two weeks. In one year - novel written Bitches. That's how this is going down.

Okay. I have more to say but I also have an old-man tired headache.

Until Tomorrow

Oooh Sunday.

2012-01-22T20:07:00.000-08:00

On Sundays I like to pretend that Monday will never come.

That this moment will continue to go on and on.

This hasn't happened yet but still I hope.

This is a poor post.

My father is here and needs to chill here while he waits for his wife's plain to land. She has been flying in from Romania since sometime yesterday.

So short poor post.

In other news.

Working on getting some new themes to the posts.

Sorry Folks

Until Tomorrow.

P.S.

The football today was incredible.

I'm Shining in Here

2012-01-21T19:46:00.000-08:00

It's a day off work and I'm cataloging how many people I had a direct interaction with.

Around 11:45 a.m. I spoke to the guy who made the first half of my Subway sandwich. African-American. Mid-thirties. 5'9" 190 lbs. This is guess work of course. I am not Batman. After a brief greeting we kept our conversation to what would constitute the heart of my sandwich. Turkey. Jack Cheese. Toasted in their science-fiction oven.

Next came the kid who put on the toppings. Caucasian. Late Teens-Early Twenties. 5'10" 170 lbs. He said, "What would like on your sandwich?"

I said, "Spinach, onions, green peppers."

He said, "Is that -"

I said, "Jalapeños and Sweet Onion Sauce."

He said, "Will that be all?"

I said, "That'll do it. Thank you."

I paid a girl for the sandwich. Caucasian. 140 lbs. 5'8". She looked very strong. She inquired about my dining preferences and asked if I would like a small, medium, or large beverage. I took a medium without hesitation. She informed me of the amount of money due and I paid it.

We would speak shortly thereafter.

After filling my cup up not quite to the brim with soda she let me know that I had left my comic book on the counter. I went to the counter exuding a self-confidence that was unmistakably false as if to sayt "You're damned right. I'm here to eat Subway and read The Savage She-Hulks." After picking up my comic she also let me know that I had dropped my chips. I responded appropriately and found a seat that was as isolated as possible.

Quick note on the absolutely weird. There was a kid (15?) in line in front of me who while ordering kept his right hand firmly shoved down the back of his shorts. Like in the crack of his ass. He touched the Subway Sandwich protective sandwich glass with that hand. He paid with that hand. He dined in and I can confirm that he ate with that hand. This event took pretty much all of my attention throughout the ordering process. I will in all likelihood have some strange dream on this tonight as it troubled me throughout the meal.

Also, The Savage She-Hulks TP was surprisingly and particularly good. I actually teared up at the dénouement when Lyra sent a message of thanks to her mother, Thundra, into the future. She was unable to say these words to her mother in the present day because it could have catastrophic implications, therefore she had to send this heart-felt message in the most round-about measure possible. I can relate.

No contact now for several hours.

I ran and shared a brief moment of eye contact with a woman who was walking her dog and talking on her cell-phone. She kindly stepped off of the narrow sidewalk so that I could jog past. I nodded my thanks. It was near the end of my run and I can only assume that I looked like a man in need of any kindness possible.

The next actual conversation would take place at the gas station across the street from my apartment. Breanna told me that my 12-pack of Diet Pepsi would be $5.04. I paid and we wished each other well.

I'm off the grid for another few hours. 2 hours ago I spoke to an unseen voice. The voice asked me what I desired. I replied that I would like a large oreo blast. The voice assured me that this would be so. Only minutes later a young hispanic male appeared with my delicacy on a tray. I paid him and I thanked him.

1 hour ago the ex-Mrs. Caveman called. I will see her briefly in May when she returns to the U.S. and lands in Dallas, Texas. She'll stay in the cave for a few days until she makes her way north. She'll hibernate or do temp-work until heading to Nashville to attend Vanderbilt.

I'm heading off to bed and foresee no further communication. I will post in the comments if some unexpected encounter comes to pass.

Until Tomorrow.

Let the Fridays Continue

2012-01-20T15:24:00.000-08:00

Dear Internet,

It is Friday. This is and most always will be my favorite day of the week. Why?

Friday is like the New Year's Eve of the week. Friday is full of hope and wonder. How will I celebrate the end of yet another brutal work week? What wonderful adventures will I set upon this weekend? Should I ride my bike or hike a trail? Should I do both? How about finally sitting down beating Batman: Arkham Asylum? Or taking a right turn and knocking Istanbul by Orhan Pamuk.

Geez, I really think the week of January 23rd is going to be so much better than this past week - I can just feel it.

I think this will be the weekend where I finally decide to wash my sheets. Yes. I have Friday Resolutions. I go all out for this shit.

So, I'm going to kick this off right now. I'm heading off to grab some dinner and then I will watch a bad movie. I'm torn between Underworld: Awakening 3D and Contraband. I heard there were some really incredible and thought provoking films out right now. One which, A Separation, something out of Iran, I really want to see. I refuse to watch that tonight however. Tonight is a holiday and I intend to celebrate with dinner, comic books, and Hollywood.

Motherfucking.

Gangsta.

Until Tomorrow - which is just going to be great.

Carne Guisada With Cheese

2012-01-19T18:20:00.000-08:00

Carne Guisada is defined by texmex.net as "stewed meat made with beef, onions, bell peppers, garlic, comino which is then served over white rice, or with Spanish rice and refried beans. Also can be served on a warm flour tortilla and eaten as a Taco."

You should also put cheese on that shit.

Which is in general, my best and only advice for everything.

But it's particularly dead on accurate in this instance.

Also, heed the taco suggestion. It is a delicious Texas surprise that I've never had anywhere else. It's actually confusing that this is not just as famous as the hamburger.

I'm slipping into a coma as I write this. It's a happy coma. Guisada induced.

Beef stew on a taco.

Shut the fuck up, I just ate something right.

This guy agrees.

What I promise is this, Dear Internet, should you visit, we will eat some yummy food. And you will leave fatter for having known me.

Until Tomorrow.

BTW

I'll be posting on Craigslist.org

But I don't know where the hell to post it on the site. Please advise.

One Big Thing and a p.s.

2012-01-18T17:54:00.000-08:00

I have on occasion mentioned putting themes to the days of the blog.

A touch of form to properly contain the hint of melancholic fury that shows up when this little space is at its best.

Today I came up with a theme and I would like to ask you, Dear Internet, to help. I'm thinking about interviewing people and releasing one interview per week. Random people. Doubtfully famous. More like Studs Terkel style conversations.

I'm about to put out an ad on craigslist. I'd like to meet strangers and just have a conversation about their life. Let them tell whatever they want. I'd take the conversation and present a profile of the people I meet and post the interviews for you, Dear Internet, to enjoy. My hope is that our CaveArt might grow in diversity and interest.

New snapshots of life in the 21st.

Also, this blog could provide the anonymity for people to spill everything without fear. After all, I think 5 people subscribe to this little bad boy. Interviewing strangers has long been something I wanted to just do. I'm not a very good photographer, and I can't sketch for shit. I need a hobby besides reading an obnoxious amount of comics and history. This sounds like fun to me Dear Internet, would you like to join me on this?

Please advise, this is my planned ad for Craigslist:

"If you have a story and would like to share it, please email me. We can meet at a Starbucks or any coffee house of your choice, I'll buy the coffee and snacks, we'll hang out and talk. I'll record your story and share it on my blog. I'm looking for everyday people from every conceivable walk of life who would like to share their story with the world. Email me if interested in starting a conversation."

This ad sucks. I'm afraid I sound like a crazy person. Which to be fair I guess I am. But I'm not a violent/sick/kidnap you kind of crazy person, which I'm worried this post either makes me seem like or even worse for me, attracts a the very type I hope to avoid and not emulate.

I would be much obliged if you would write a better ad for me and post it in the comments box. I'm hoping to grab my first interview within a week and make Saturdays the official "Meet Somebody" day.

Also, I would like help with theme-naming.

P.S.

If you live in San Antonio and like to dance, I need a dance partner. I would like to take ballroom classes but I refuse to go alone. If you are interested, post in the comments. This is not a romantic thing and I should warn you, I'm not a very good dancer, I just really love to dance. Imagine say, a blind man who loves to drive. You're on the right track. Just slightly more dangerous.

Until Tomorrow

BTW

2012-01-17T18:42:00.000-08:00

As I write this OnPoint is on the radio discussing how the digital world is taking over our lives.

It may be. I'm actually too tired to listen to the program. I'm going to lay down in bed in a few moments and fall asleep reading Hulk. But back to the digital takeover and since I'm not calling in to the show I'm going to weigh in here. Please feel free to weigh back.

I think it's very possible that our media is taking over our lives. But I'm not sure it's all bad. Perhaps everything really is perspective. If that's so then it's pretty obvious why I stand where I'm at. I live alone in TX. I'm trying to move away and hope to be in a city with friends I dig sometime in the next few years and I really hope it will be this year. This is a plan I will accomplish primarily online. But that is actually besides the point because what the program was really addressing was Twitter, FB, email, etc. - not online job applications. So I'll go to that.

Some might say that if not for digital media then I'd be out there trying to make friends. To those some I say bullshit. You clearly don't know me and did not watch me operate through my late teens and twenties. I have had friends mostly due to the fact that my friends have friends and they pull me out to meet those friends. I also in no way feel alone in my behavior. Many people meet friends through the incubators of school and work. In the event that these people are transplanted geographically and don't jive with the new neighbors these people are then... alone. Period. I don't think this is new. I just think this is not discussed when people talk about the online take-over.

It is entirely possible that Twitter, FB, and this blog are saving my shit. I'm scraping bottom over here and I decided to start throwing these thoughts out and I've gotten at least enough feed back to feel like I have something to look forward to every night.

Every night I'm going to write. That is something I know now. Sometimes it's a chore. Like tonight. I feel a touch guilty because I know that if it's a chore for me to write then it will be a chore for you to read. But fuck it. Let me give you this hint. If you scroll onto the blog and you don't see pictures on the post - it's either going to be a boring post or a depressing post, so if you want to skip that one feel free friends.

A couple other BTWs

I owe a phone-call to Twunch. I will be paying up this weekend most likely if not before.
Xavier is still walking as best I know. Apparently a dude named Xorn, who has a small star for a brain did this for him. Also a little baby named Hope was born and stirred all sorts of shit.
While I wait for the library to help me catch up on the parallel stories in New X-Men, I'm back on The Hulk. Red Hulk and Bruce Banner have teamed up to cause some destruction. I'm a little happier.
I'm about to finish A Day in the Life of Ancient Rome. If you are insanely into Roman History, particularly during the reign of Trajan, then this is a decent book. If you are not then wait for a bit when I give you the highlights.
Mom's visit was sweet. If those of you in the STL encounter her. Give her a hug from me.
I am aiming at Charter schools right now in the NYC and Chicago area.
Congratulations to Matt Kahler. He's got a well-earned trip to D.C. coming his way. If you don't know why I wrote that, call him and find out why.

Until Tomorrow

Panic Time

2012-01-16T18:21:00.000-08:00

People.

Now is one of those shit weeks at school. Admin is piling the work on and with Mom in town this week I'm all kinds of behind.

This is teaching. Unreasonable expectations. Ridiculous timelines. No time for self.

I made time for self this weekend and it was worth it. Now it's time to pay for it.

At moments like these. What do I think about?

Pepsi.

No, not a drink. A job. Pepsi was a great job. I made displays for them. Pyramids of Pepsi. Mountains of Aquafina. Driving around in a truck and making sure that all the Pepsi products are available. A simple job. If you worked overtime, you were paid for it. It was nice.

I'm thinking about that right now while I get ready for an almost all nighter preparing this week's lessons.

This is not a competition. I know your job sucks too. I hope you understand that when I bitch about my job I'm bitching about yours as well. I'm trying to figure out how this happened. Why we're not doing things for money that also keep us healthy, happy and sane. Is there a way out. A better plan. Can I quit? Should I? Not now. I have a responsibility to my students. But this summer?

Anyway.

I love each and every one of you.

Good Night and Until Tomorrow,

The CaveMan

Mom is Ironing my Clothes

2012-01-15T22:04:00.000-08:00

I'm keeping this extra short.

It's the least I can do because this will only be extra boring.

Mom is washing and ironing my clothes. This is the result of negotiations in which I insisted she did nothing of the sort and she threatened to rearrange and clean the entire apartment. When she isn't doing laundry, we're going out and eating fatty foods. We are laughing at inside jokes and pretty much having a decent time. Tomorrow we look forward to a visit to the Alamo where we hope to confirm a rumor that we have an ancestor who fought and died (obviously that one) at the Alamo. More to come on that.

Football was incredible today.

So was apple pie.

Also, welcome to dzne. I do not know who you are or if you will continue reading this, but you somehow found this blog and even left a comment. That deserves a shout out.

Comic Update

2012-01-14T20:41:00.000-08:00

So... not easy to blog when relatives are in town.

But you're about due on a comic book update.

Had a stroke of genius and ordered all of Brubaker's run on X-Men and Uncanny X-Men to read the Vulcan saga. Apparently one brother was not enough for Scott Summers. Now it turns out there was an unborn baby brother who was cruelly ripped from the womb of his dead mother and speed raised in a slave incubator.

This pissed of the young Gabriel Summers, who named himself Vulcan, and after a bad time with Mr. Charles Xavier, and a short trip into space on a chunk of rock, he went absolutely insane.

Right now my X-Men are in some other galaxy rescuing an empress from a coup. The empress is Xavier's ex-wife. Xavier is all beat to fuck and no longer has mutant powers. But he can walk! Except for right now because he's all beat to fuck. So this other mutant, Darwin, who has reactionary evolution as his power, is trying to rescue him.

Where did I get all of these X-Men TPs? The library. Those motherfuckers have everything. My dorkdom is exploding and I am a jolly old coot.

When I'm done with my X-Men I'll update you and pick back up on my Hulks which have all come in from Amazon. Oh yeah. I'm going to keep buying my Hulks.

Happily Until Tomorrow,

CaveMan

Oh But I Do Love Fridays

2012-01-13T19:57:00.000-08:00

Hello Friends,

I'll have to be quick with Mom in town. For those of you who are in the mood and haven't, I do recommend Tinker Tailor Soldier Spy. An incredible amount of film-making ass was kicked. Yes all the acting was great but once again, I was blown away by Gary Oldman. If that motherfucker ever interrogates me I will sell the fuck out. Fo-Real. Dude is an old bad-ass. It's also just a beautiful movie to watch.

Another note. Before anybody tries to pull some you missed a day shit because I'm posting after midnight. Nope. My blog, my rules. I haven't gone to bed yet so the day is still valid. The streak continues.

In other news:

School was fantastic. Fridays always are. I give the kids tests all morning and Free Time in the afternoon. Mom came to visit the kids and they went nuts. In a brilliant play in trying to bribe his way to fifth grade, one of my lowest boys tried flirting with my mom. Ahhh.... nine-year-olds. Love 'em.

Also, The Ex-Mrs. CaveMan has received a full scholarship plus a stipend to study at Vanderbilt this fall. Really incredible. If you know her, you should congratulate her. Good work Rock Star.

More To Come.

Until Tomorrow,

CaveMan

Tonight at the San Pedro!

2012-01-12T18:01:00.000-08:00

Calling Out, my ten-minute play, premiers tonight with ten other ten-minute plays. This is happening at the San Pedro Playhouse. I am grateful to the people who have made this whole thing happen. Easily the person to have put the least amount of energy into this is yours truly. I have been writer in absentia. I wrote it in 5 days and submitted it 10 minutes after the deadline, showed up for the staged reading in August and have done absolutely nothing with it since.

Now to be sure. I have been invited to numerous production meetings and get-togethers. I had an open pass to rehearsals as long as I scheduled them in advance. And though the director never contacted me for my thoughts, I've never contacted him either. I just... couldn't care enough. I submitted my bio late. I had to be prodded and prodded to come to the theater and sign my contract - which I never bothered to read but am fairly certain it mentioned nothing about pay. Finally, I forgot to apply for comp tickets to the premier tonight.

This prompted an angry email from one production stage manager who was completely in the right to be pissed. I did rouse myself to my gmail account to apologize. So... I'm not going to it either.

Mom came into town for the show. She's going to the show with Dad. In fact, that's where they are right now. I can usually fake it for Mom. She really needs to believe that I am happy, so I really do try to convince her that that is the case. I still have a couple days with her in town to try and pull it off. I'm stressed about this situation. To my eyes it looks like a gauntlet. Mom will be watching me the whole time. Wondering to herself, "Is my baby-boy who never says anything to me about his life actually happy?" I'll do my best to keep her off-guard. I'll try to tell familiar jokes and act like I give a shit about stuff and hopefully I will allow Mom to leave San Antonio believing all is well.

Yes. That's my goal each time I see my mother. Trick her. Keep her off-guard. Make her think everything is okay and that her involvement is not needed. That last part being the one true part. She does not need to be involved. This might all sound harsh. You need to understand though that I do all of this because I really love her. ALL she wants is for me to be happy. If I'm not, then in her eyes it's her fault. This guilt only makes me feel shittier. So, I'm going to try and lie really well for the next few days. And I don't feel good about it. But I don't feel bad either. Grandma called these "White Lies."

But, I'm having trouble on this one. My school sucks and I'm stressed out. Meanwhile I've done fuck-all with this play of mine and pissed off so many people that I don't have the strength to attend tonight's, or any night's performance. I can't stand after-shows, so obviously there's some childish selfishness at play here to claim some responsibility along with my embarrassment.

The biggest thing is the lie though. Lying about happiness takes it out of you. The smile lie takes an incredible amount of energy when it isn't genuine and you have to spend that at something like a premier. Even if it's the premier of a pretty shitty 10-minute play, people expect you to be very happy. And if you're not happy, you're a dick. And very happy costs a lot of smiles. So if I go I will lie and play happy. I can't afford it. I just don't have those smiles in the bank. Mom's in town for three days and meanwhile my twenty tiny 10-year-olds do not see their teacher crumble right in front of them.

So I'm not going to the premier. I am saving these smiles for the people who need them.

Until Tomorrow,

Your Friendly CaveMan.

Why you Doing this Mike Rowe?

2012-01-11T19:05:00.000-08:00

You know what's embarrassing these days? I like the show Dirty Jobs.

I have fond memories of chillin in Florida with Jenn and watching marathons of this show. I thought this Mike Rowe guy was just what Discovery had been needing.

But apparently producers, who really don't know the meaning of too much of a kind-of okay thing, thought the same thing. Then Mike Rowe was the voice on Deadliest Catch. Another show I really dug for moment in time. At one point I was completely ready to drop out of grad-school and become a crabber. I was talked out of this by a good friend. Thank You Trent. At this point, I was still okay with Mike.

Then, I moved to NYC. I didn't have cable. It would have been silly to have cable, because I didn't have a t.v. Things like Dirty Jobs and Deadliest Catch seemed a little too bougie for a guy like me.

Now I'm an elementary school teacher and I guess that makes me bougie by definition. But now that I have a t.v., and cable p.s., I see Mike Rowe has expanded his career to hocking Fords.

WTF Mike? You cannot handle this exposure. You're a decent guy. It's obvious. Shows up in all you do. You seem down to earth and fairly witty. But you can not cook enough "just your average Joe jokes" to brand yourself this far out. Please stop.

You're in danger of achieving "Ludacris" status!!!!

Christopher Brian Bridges, a.k.a. Ludacris, was a young and talented rapper when he hit the scene in 2000. His album "Back for the First Time" took the hip hop world by storm and he immediately followed it up with "Word of Mouf" in 2001. His prolific lyrical ability left many hip-hop connosieurs (read me and my younger brother Shay) thinking he might just challenge Eminem for best rapper of the moment. I maintained throughout that Andre from Outkast remained better than both - but that is neither here nor there.

Then something tragic happened. Artistically speaking. Ludacris showed up everywhere. Other rappers who couldn't sell albums loved this guy. And he started selling his skills to the highest bidder. Now his best verses showed up on other folks albums and when you bought a "Luda" album, you sort of felt like you just got the leftovers. Only the truly faithful and preteens get his crap now and that is sad.

Why do I bring this up? Mike Rowe is the white, bougie, off-brand, Discovery Channel version of Ludacris. Obviously. Spread too thin, his risque for the dinner table with Grandma humor, cannot be tolerated. Those Ford commercials make me sad. Embarrassed that once upon a time I trusted Mike. That I thought this guy is for real. Now he's hawking Fords. And I like Fords too. But "Mike and Ford" do not make "Peanut Butter and Jelly" they make something like "Steak and Marshmellows." Too much.

Slow down Mike Rowe. I'm rooting for you. You do not need to be a B-Lister. It's never going to be bigger than this, and this just isn't worth it. Is it?

Also, Discovery Channel, can we get another Deadliest Catch marathon. I just went off on Mike Rowe and I'm not feeling loser enough right now.

Until Tomorrow,

The CaveMan

Vital Stats

2012-01-10T18:32:00.000-08:00

Tuesdays are a motherfucker.

Woke up at 5:00 a.m. Pressed snooze on the alarm. Couldn't fall back to sleep because I was already starting to panic about how far behind I am in school.

Gave up trying to snooze at 5:17 a.m. and started the day. Poured a cup of coffee and cleaned up.

Clothes were already ironed. Got dressed. Started to make lunch but gave up because the bread was moldy.

Dollars in wallet. I would get school lunch.

Drove 21.6 miles to school.

Arrived at 6:43 a.m.

Blur.

Left school at 4:52 p.m.

Drove 21.7 miles home.

Ran to my mailbox and discovered all my Hulk TPs waiting for me. Joyous Feeling Felt.

Went for my jog. 5 minute warm up. 8 minute jog. 5 minute walk. 8 minute jog. 2 1/2 minute cool down. I have not run this far since high-school.

Subway for dinner. Hulk for company. Hero comics are my Greek myths.

I weigh 233 pounds which is three pounds less than Sunday evening. I am good with this development.

I will read a bit and go to bed shortly.

OTHER THOUGHTS

I am really tired and this is the first time the blog felt like a challenge. I look forward to doing this every night and reading the comments, which I really do appreciate, but tonight I just want to go to sleep. The big problem tonight was that I had no idea what to write. This was also an issue last night. So, my plan is to sort of organically discover a system. Daily themes to discuss.

The only theme that I know I want to have is food. That will get one day a week. As I land on other topics I'll plug them in. My theory is that when this gets rolling it will actually improve each day's blog because I'll be thinking about each day over the course of a week.

I am going to eventually turn this into that type of blog so if there are any theme requests you want to put out there, holler out.

I'm listening to RadioLab right now. Thank you to Ken. You suggested this program to me 4 years ago and I've been listening ever since. I'm listening to "The Bad Show" tonight.

It's 8:53 p.m. and I'm going to bed.

Until Tomorrow,

The CaveMan

The CaveMan gets a student teacher.

2012-01-09T17:58:00.000-08:00

So a couple of surprises were sprung on me today. First off, I'm going to a training on Thursday for school so that I can train the other teachers on our staff development day coming up. I'd be fine with it if only just ONE DAMNED TRAINING WAS EVER WORTH A SHIT. Instead, I'm losing classroom time with my little rock-stars to waste some time, to then come back to school in a few weeks to waste other teachers time. Woot.

But, good things come to those who say yes to shitty requests from the principal. Today I got a student-teacher. To those of you who don't know, this is a shocking development in my career. Just two years ago my principal, the same one I have today, removed my class from me and just paid me to show up. I was close to not having my contract renewed. Now, I'm the lead 4th grade teacher, the Gradebook Coordinator, the Gifted/Talented teacher, and I have a student teacher. What have I done differently you ask? Nothing. Pretty much the same dude day-in day-out at the old Academy. So if you want the secret. I don't got it.

Which really makes it strange to watch a young teacher walking around the room, taking notes on what I do, listening to me teach and writing down little gems of wisdom. I'm actually nervous. I'm worried she's going to out me somehow.

Actually, for any of this to make sense I need to make this confession.

I'm shocked that I am a teacher. I still feel like I gamed the house on this one. Even though the job is absurdly stressful and we're all underpaid when you take our hours into account - I still feel lucky to be doing this. I haven't gotten over the awe I held teachers in as a child and I don't feel like I have that secret. So, having someone in my room all day kind of frightens me. Like one she will stand up and scream "FRAUD!!!" and just like that, my jig is up.

Those of you who taught or teach now must realize that we teachers break rules all the time. There's no sticking to the district mandated schedule. Math takes longer to teach. Social Studies gets shorted. I don't like it either but there it is. My kids need math more. So, there is some basis for my fear.

But... there she is. My student teacher watching me just like I watched someone three years ago. And my kids all do the same shit we did as kids and are amazed when I call them out seemingly out of nowhere. I've even been complimented several times this year on my.... wait for it -

Teacher-Look.

I still don't know what the hell happened. But I'm apparently getting better at this. I love doing it. By that I mean I love teaching kids and hanging out with them. All the other parts, and I mean ALL OF THE OTHER PARTS of teaching suck. Ironically those are the parts I don't get paid for. Planning, calling parents, knocking on parents doors when they refuse to answer phones, (By the way, one should not be made to feel like a Bill Collector when one is only trying to help your child.) meeting with administration, getting bitched out by administration because your students are not achieving anything according that intellectual giant, Gov. Rick Perry. Yeah, all that sucks, but kids are wonderful. Really. There have been a great many days now when it's the thought of them that keeps me rolling. I'm prepping y'all on this. Because I'm going to vent on teaching a great deal the closer and closer I get to state tests.

I'm kind of all over the place tonight as I digest this little moment. So I apologize for the lack of focus.

Today I got a student teacher.

Now I've got to make some professional looking Lesson Plans so that nobody catches on that I have no idea what I'm doing.

Until Tomorrow,

The CaveMan

The Fat Boy Runs

2012-01-08T17:36:00.000-08:00

Well...

I'm fat. Getting fatter. Last check, which was a couple hours ago, 236 pounds.

Awesome.

My size 40s are actually starting to feel tight. When I get overweight, my arms fall asleep at night and I wake up in a panic thinking I'm having a heart attack. It's uncomfortable to sleep on my back. I hit a new breakthrough the other night though, my FACE fell asleep. I don't know what happened. But I woke up with little pins sticking me in my face while I waited to be able to breathe again.

So... I'm running now. Actually I started running back in November but today was a high point. I've been to doing the Couch to 5K program, which is designed to get you running a straight 5K by working you up through intervals. I started by running with a stopwatch, then I found Podrunner: Intervals, which I download to my iPod. The music is set to a beat that you either run or walk to based on the beat. It's like have a running coach that speaks to in the language of techno. Today I hit hit week 5. Took me a while but I got there. So I'm at the midway point and despite being fatter than ever I actually feel okay.

So, if your fat or getting there, or you just want to run, or you've been running and you want to cheer me on so that I don't die of a heart attack, share your running stories in the comments. I'll be taking pictures of the places I run in the future. Parks are one of the highlights in San Antonio. I bash this city a fair amount so it's only fair that I give credit it to it's admittedly cool shit.

Right now I'm watching Shameless on Showtime. Yeah. I ordered Showtime a couple of hours ago just so I can watch this show.

Until Tomorrow,

Your Friendly CaveMan

The Sports Underground

2012-01-07T20:15:00.000-08:00

I slept a-lot today. Rolled out of bed around the crack of ten. Ran down the street for an egg mcmuffin before breakfast was done at Mickey Dees. Came back. Took a nap. Grabbed some Panda Express. Wandered around Best Buy in a fatty-food daze. Felt a breeze blow up my T-Shirt. That's how large my gut is now. Almost bought Skyrim. Almost bought NCAA 2012. Couldn't buy anything because a bout of diarrhea prompted me to race home. Blew up the bathroom. Fell asleep watching the Texans vs. Bengals. Woke up. Ate some Subway. Flicked back and forth between the Saints game and the GOP Debate. The debate was much more entertaining. Skyped with the Ex-Mrs. CaveMan. She remains funny and in good health. So... some real progress made today towards taking full advantage of my health insurance. Diabetes cannot be too far down the road. This situation is untenable.

Never Fear. I come prepared for days like this Dear Readers. When I have little to share about my own life - I'll tell you about my friends. And shamelessly try to plug their endeavors. Fair warning: I've never been a good salesperson. I'm come off a little pushy. A-lot. But I promise to only push stuff I like.

Today I am going to share/promote my buddy's podcast, The Sports Underground.

Baron Grafft is the show's host, producer, writer, everything. This show is a labor of love for him, and his enthusiasm for all things sports-related really plays well. He primarily covers football, baseball, basketball and hockey. Sports Underground is notable for it's lack of ESPN bullshit. Baron is straight-forward with his analysis and rarely lingers in the soap opera storylines that cable sports shows and radio hosts love to blather about. He was also an incredible NWA fan and Rage Against the Machine fan in his youth - so he usually takes the players' side in disputes with ownership.

I love sports. I hate sports shows. This is the only sports show I listen to. If it was televised, it'd be the only sports show I watch. Since it isn't, I don't watch any sports shows. The reason to listen is because in 30 minutes Baron will catch you up on everything that's happening in sports and his analysis actually makes watching the games more interesting. Some of you might remember when watching Sportscenter was kind of like the description above. If that was something you liked, now you can find it here. If you don't like sports though, then this isn't a very good show for you. Just keeping it real.

On a personal note, Baron is one of my oldest friends and I'm really proud of what he's pulling off. He puts his shows out Mondays and Fridays. Subscribe on iTunes.

Till Tomorrow,

Assuming I don't slip into a diabetic coma,

Your Friendly CaveMan

Comic Confession

2012-01-06T19:04:00.000-08:00

I promised honesty. Here comes more than a little. I really like comic books.

See those.

They all happened to me today.

Some of this was mailed to me from Amazon.

Fearing I didn't have enough, I went to the comic book store and topped myself off.

A couple of weeks ago, while in St. Louis, I confessed a humble dream of mine to my brother. I would like to own the entire collection of trade paperbacks that deal with The Hulk. To all my friends with lives, trade paperbacks, or TPs as I'll call them from here on, are a series of comics collected in one book . I'll let the collection grow from there. "Wouldn't that be fucking awesome?"

That's a quote.

I really said that.

Seamus smiled and may have even given me an indulgent nod. I have a kind brother. He hopes for the best but continues to accept me for who I am. He then directed my attention back to

whatever was at hand, I think it was Modern Warfare 3. We were celebrating Awesome Day, a holiday we invented and I strongly suggest you adopt. I can only imagine that he hoped that I would forgo the dream and move on to more practical aspects of life when I returned to San Antonio. I did not. Last week I got more than a little stupid on Amazon and bought every single TP of every Hulk-related book released in the last few years.

Today the flood has only just begun. I've got some Red Hulk and Incredible Hulk coming in.

Did you know that there is a Red Hulk now? Sadly, I did. And that still hasn't stopped me.

Did you know that Hulk has a son, Skarr. I knew that as well. And I still haven't stopped reading. There are actually all these different hulks running around and it's really pissing me off.

Did you know that Bruce Banner can no longer turn into The Hulk? For real. Somehow he and The Hulk have become separated. This saddens me.

I love The Hulk because I can relate to the idea of the beast within. I love that myth. I love that battle. I'm sad that that may no longer be the story. Has that stopped me?

No it hasn't.

Observers of my photos may notice that there are other comics in there. Good Eye. This shit is like crack to me and once I start smoking I can't say no. "You want some X-Men?" says the man behind the bush. "Hells Yeah." says I. "What about some indy horror books? They're from the North-West." "G-G-Gimme the omnibus." I spit out before I can track down my will power. Y'all are about to watch me spend a-lot of money I don't have. Shit is going down. I've subscribed to Marvel on my new phone and I'm listening to the ifanboy podcast for more suggestions. If you are in the mood for the sequel to Requiem for a Dream, keep reading this blog. It's going down here. Comic Book Style. Possibly even more sad than heroin.

IN OTHER NEWS

I'm trying to give a shit about the Cotton Bowl but can't.
My friend Beth has joined me on this adventure and is posting daily. Today she created some cool food that I will try to recreate tomorrow. People who look at raw ingredients and make new foods amaze me. I suggest you check out her bean burger.
My buddy Ken taught me the meaning of #ff in a very kind way. that was cool. thank you.
I'm really happy that it's Friday. More on Friday later.
I might come to like Portlandia on IFC.
I am liking The Increasingly Poor Decisions of Todd Margaret, also on IFC.
I'm about to watch NOVA and read some Comics.
Just warning you, I'm probably going to talk a-lot more about The Hulk myth, comic myth in general, and my dream to create a Christopher Columbus comic titled Manifest.

Till Tomorrow,

CaveMan

This Just Happened

2012-01-05T17:32:00.000-08:00

Some serious bad just went down. This week's return to school has been stressful. I'm three days in and already I feel three months behind. After days and weeks like this I return to my favorite San Antonio pastime - eating food that is really not good for me. My search for the best burger in San Antonio has led me to Fatty's Burgers. This shit is seriously good.

Fatty's is in downtown San Antonio's East Side. Which is nice, because practically nothing is on San Antonio's East Side. So you not only get a good meal, but you get a bougie sense of adventure as well. It's owned by a dude who did not seem at all that fat. This worried me. I'm the type of guy who likes his restaurants run by diabetics. That's when I know I'm finding what I'm looking for. But, the guy was nice, the pictures looked yum, and my buddy Manuel told me this was the spot for burgers in San Antonio. So order I did.

The place is on the first floor of two or three story building - I'm not a very observant person - and it looks like the restaurant has slowly acquired all the other businesses that used to lease the first floor as well. So what you see is a hodge podge of three dining rooms all on uneven levels. You walk in and walk through the first dining area to place your order and then you find your seat. I hit Fatty's up at 4:30 today and the place was damn near empty. Perfect, for a dude named me. One dining room had a couple eating together and another dining room had a group of teen-aged girls who looked to be some sort of Christian Discussion group - the restaurant is filled with Christian Meet-Up material and fliers. I chose the empty dining room with the large t.v. Robert Frost Style Bitches.

I threw down on a Bacon-Cheese with a side of Fried Mushrooms. Dopeness ensued. When I went to grab some napkins I saw a crock-pot with a sign that said; "Dine-In Customers, Enjoy our complimentary pinto beans." I did that and was pleased. The beans were simple with some jalapenos getting involved and taken from a Styrofoam cup, I got just what I needed. The burger itself revealed the raison d'etre of the restaurant's name and I left fat, stupid, and happy. I'm not going to explain the bun that surrounded the burger - I don't have the foodie vocabulary - but the bun deserves a mention. It's not everyday that a bun deserves a mention. So I mention it.

That's the best thing that happened to me today, so I share it with you.

Dear Reader, I hope you're well.

Yours,

CaveMan

Fuck Quality. Here Comes Quantity.

2012-01-04T17:54:00.000-08:00

If a billion other bloggers can do it, so can I.

2012 - here comes a bunch of shit.

I'm gonna let "shit" mean whatever you need it too.

Near the end of November I knew I wanted to start the blog back up. Hopefully with some poems.

Didn't write any.

2010 came and went.

So did 2011.

So...

The real point of Cave Scrawl was to jot off snap shots. Cave Man style. Think: "Oooh! Deer!" Just simple human shit that interested me and I thought might be universal. At the time I was writing a fair amount of poetry and that seemed like the perfect vehicle to share those snap shots.

I was sort of depressed at the time.

These days.

I'm really really depressed. Morbidly depressed. Perhaps even clinically depressed but for a reason I haven't really figured out I haven't gone for a diagnosis. More on that if I ever choose to go there. Anyway for a couple of years, although I do write a couple goofy plays, I am actually too depressed to write poetry. The previous statement should get me bitch-slapped by Miss Dickinson, should we meet in purgatory #aiminghigh. Anyway, with no poems came no posts. So I thought about other ways to say what's up. Some thread. I got rolling on the idea of imaginary therapy sessions on the blog. Where I worked my shit out.

I warned a few friends that the blog was coming back in 2012 and that it would get dark.

Then I started thinking about the idea of Cave Scrawl again. The good people of the caves drew deer, buffalo, and buffalo-deer gods. Yummy Shit. Happy Shit. They did not draw pictures of mopey-ass cave dudes who wondered if venison was really worth the trouble.

I'm actually not sure of the accuracy of any of those previous statements. I am not a cave-drawing expert. But... that's what I was thinking. And I've never heard of any mopey-ass cave dude drawings. Though on reflection, it seems like at least one must have tried to pull it off.

Now, by all rights, the people of the caves must have had a more difficult life than me. At the very least, they must have had a few moments of shittiness that would probably dwarf mine. But they didn't fill the caves with a bunch of dark woe is me crap. They just threw up the stuff that interested them and what they liked to think about.

So in keeping with their tradition, I'm dropping the dark, and going with a more, what's on my mind right now approach.

I'm not saying this won't get dark. Occasionally it probably will. I often like Dark and find It interesting. But I'm not going to promise Dark. I'm not going to promise much of anything. More like a-lot of something. Some poems will probably pop up. I do still write them from time to time. Stories about the kids I teach. Reasons I'm not going to kill myself. One thing I will not promise at all though, is quality. The internet is filled with bad blogs and it hasn't broken yet.

I'm telling you right now that this blog will most likely suck. You have been warned. I am so for real about that statement. No promise of quality.

But like today's title suggests, I am promising quantity. For lack of any theme I'm going with 365 days in a row of posts. A nice, old, it's already been done writer's hack. Yep, I'm going to do that. Everyday, at some point before I go to bed I am going to post on this blog. Maybe some good will come of this. I at least promise that I will show up. Which is something I haven't done in a while and I am only now realizing how unfair that was to each of you.

I also promise a more unvarnished look at me. It might get pretty ugly and pathetic but that is only fair. If you actually go through the trouble of reading this, you deserve to at least know that I'm being honest. I have a habit of keeping my more embarrassing thoughts to myself. If that's the Cave Man you like, cool. Don't read this blog. If you want an honest conversation. Well, that's more like what I'm going for here.

I will at least try to throw out something worthy of conversation. But I won't promise that I will.

Here's a quick list previewing likely topics that likely will come up this year:

Teaching
Struggling with being an alcoholic
My bicycle.
Losing my hair
Turning 33
Running.
Loving Kids
Hating Teaching
Getting Fatter than ever.
Not really believing I'm an alcoholic
Hang Overs and Bad Decisions that convince me for a time that I am indeed an alcoholic.
Nice Hikes in South Texas.
Possibly Dating
The lack of dating.
Being Recently Divorced and terrified of the idea of dating.
Wondering how much I care about being an Alcoholic
Cities I want to move to
Excuses
and Ice Cream

And - I actually hope all of this turns out to be at least a little funny and maybe brightens your day.

My life is actually not that bad. There's just a chemical in my head that likes to think it is.

Deuces Friends.

Until Tomorrow,

Your Friendly CaveMan

A Parked Car Flies. (one)

2009-08-22T10:04:00.000-07:00

It’s hot in Texas and my heart is breaking.

I’m driving to my new home.

A song plays. I’m in Rockaway in winter.

Ocean breaks on snow.

Outside my car

Leaves swirl in the hot wind

But Texas summer stops at my car door.

The song plays

And I smell wet snow

Ocean blasts

The memory of a warm cave by the sea.

Outside my car

The leaves lift and tumble and play like puppies.

Their sharp lines silhouetted in my headlights,

I start to think about an invisible hand.

I park my car

Sit in two places

And try desperately to hold onto it all,

But I’m sitting in a parked car.

Snail Leaf Blue

2009-08-15T19:35:00.000-07:00

In my headlights there’s a golden brown leaf.

It has two stems jutting up into the air.

The stems' ends look like eyes.

The leaf looks like a giant snail.

A mutant leaf.

That looks like a mutant snail.

I smile still.

A Poem for Pop

2009-07-27T12:15:00.000-07:00

Some moments are so golden I just

Have to thank you

Cut it in my palms

I will

never forsake you

Thank You

Take Two

No I'll just take one and split it.

Entwined into the spine and now I'll

never forget it.

Provided me with a blanket

Provided me with a sanction

Provided me with the lessons

that have grown into my patience.

Thank You

Within the circle we share

So that never one will lack

I will push my portion forward,

As you would never take it back.

Thank you

Anthropomorphizing Brinkley

2009-03-23T16:08:00.000-07:00

I ate my dog food.
Transitory are life's treats.
Now I lick my balls.

Everyday the End of the World

2009-01-31T10:37:00.000-08:00

Outside the children play a game.

She whispers -

Rightthere

Butonlyoucanseeit

He will not come back.

Hold for a moment.

cherish what is fleeting

Pray for a Forever. Where this can last.

Outside the children stare into the Sun,

To see who will go blind first.

5 Princesses Dance at the Cross Bay Station

2009-01-23T11:01:00.000-08:00

When does the princess become a queen?

When does she blossom?

When does she burst into flame?

The 5 boys dance for each other.

For their own amusement

enjoyment

and love of life

50 people quietly wait for the train

25 for the sea

25 for the island

45 stare at the boys.

Plebes basking in the light of royalty.

Instantly recognizable,

the divine touch,

that science has yet to define,

resides within them,

They are above us.

45 Plebes stare as Princesses invent a world.

We are not noticed

Nor should we be.

They dance in a separate realm that only seems to share our dimension.

We are grateful for the glimpse.

O How they shine.

The 5 boys twist and hook hips

Wobble Legs

and Fast Vogue Hands

They mime and mesh styles

Caribbean Parade, Break-Dance, Madonna

I'm not really sure how they do it.

Or what IT is.

But It's fascinating

enthralling

intoxicating

In proper attire these Princesses could make a Plebe forget himself.

And a strange thing happens.

For the 1st time since the fad began

I see boys in tight jeans and I don't think

"Idiots"

These Princesses make it look good.

These boys inform me in no uncertain terms that

I am old

I know not of which I speak

Behold the youth

The tide comes in

Destroys my sand castles

And now new minds create.

I thought they were wearing tight jeans and sneakers?

I was wrong.

They were wearing ballgowns.

The 5 boys dance

and Dylan is just another name.

if you have another song to sing sir

go ahead and sing it. But please keep

it quiet. We rented this dance hall

after-all.

and Bowie was just a fake

or a sell-out

Either way, his sun set

and he'll never get

to take it back

Lennon's just lucky they never got their hands on him.

Hip Hop's just an institution.

And Mick and Janet are so fucking deluded

the 5 boys just pity them.

And I'm just a plebe.

I never got invited to the dance and I never will.

The tide rolled in

The tide rolled out

And now I keep time

With the sea-anemones.

But just before I got swept away.

Somewhere between the bottle and the field.

I was given a glimpse of the days to come.

Of 5 boys dancing

And Queens-To-Be

Had It Been Us (my christmas poem)

2008-12-25T06:11:00.000-08:00

We are three righteous and good kings

And We have come to kill you.

In One Block

2008-12-19T22:04:00.000-08:00

You can go hours without saying a word
You suspect that, without interruption,
You can go days.
You have surprisedyourselfNO You have amazed yourself.

You thought you had a greater need to speak.

That if no one hears you You aren't alive.
But hours go by without the need without the want without even the thought
To speak.

You walk into the cold bright city at night.
You emerge from the subway.
You emerge from The Underground.
The city is loud.
You love how loud the city is.
It complements how quiet You have become.
You have astonished yourself with your quiet.
With your Still.

The snowflakes slap your face and the wind rushes down Sixth Avenue and you feel like your in a canyon and even though your surrounded by the noise of New York You Yourself are so quiet inside that you can imagine that you are the last one on Earth You are The It You are The Only One And you feel like your in a canyon!

And you think of David.

Because you're not in a canyon.
You are a block from Times Square.
But You know that if you walk down Sixth till 6th turns into something else -you don't remember what but something else- the streets really start to twist on each other down there.

Down in the guts of the city.
Where Wall Street is.
Those streets
Are actually called
The Canyons.
David told you that.
Back in that other life when You lived in Florida.
You and David were talking and he thought back to his other life when he lived in New York. He remembered that they called Wall Street and all those other streets whose names, he couldn't remember and You didn't know yet to forget,
They called those streets
The Canyons.

He remembered that.
He lived that life and then He told you about it.
And when he told you about the Canyons
You felt like a wise man had told you a secret.
You felt good and You felt welcome.
He may not have told you THE SECRET
Sure.
But he told you A secret
And all things considered, that was pretty good.
Because up till that point David The Wise Man still kind of intimidated you.
And you weren't all together certain that he enjoyed your company but now he had reminisced with you and he had shared one of his other lives with you and you have other lives yourself so you know what a kind gift that is to share.

All those lives.

And a snow flake slaps you in the face
The wind rushing down 7th Ave now.
And you are no longer in a canyon.
You are in the eye of a hurricane.
New York is So Loud.
And You Are Still.
A thousand lives inside your mind.
A thousand lives swirling stirring your soul.
A thousand lives and
You Cry when you see a Couple Kiss.
A thousand lives remembered
And a thousand lives to live
A thousand lives in One Block!
And You.

You. haven't. said. a. word.

Yes I do Listen to Garrison Keillor. What?!

2008-12-16T20:19:00.000-08:00

I’m sitting on a public bench by the water right now
The Schuylkill River
In a famous city that I don’t know very well.

Except:
Back in the day, Ben Franklin and some folks got bout about here.
and
I’ve never really liked this city’s sports fans.

But it turns out that I like their city.
I’m surprised at how easy it is to get around.
I have no map.
I came with no plan.
But I can walk around and tell myself
I’ve Seen This City.
I travelled here and I am better for it.

The river shimmers.
And every minute or so a jogger passes by.

It seems like lots of people live in this city.
Which is more than I can say for the city whose sports teams I root for.

This is their “Hidden River.”

It says so on a sign.
"Come Enjoy The Schuylkill. Our Hidden River."

And with bridges and bike paths and street lamps,
Well,
It seems to me to be more of a “Celebrated Unknown.”

I just made that up
While sitting here by the shimmering river
In the famous city
I didn’t know very well
Whose sports fans,
that I don’t like very much,
Left a bench
For me to sit on
-Should I ever choose to visit-
And enjoy their shimmering river.

Adjusting to Insanity

2008-11-28T20:45:00.000-08:00

Tonight
The roaches are dead
And I can sleep.

I think about them all the time -
the proximity of their living quarters troubles me.

I plan my lessons and I think about them.
I cook my food and I think about them.
I wipe my ass and I think about them.
I think about them all the time.

the way the light plays against my body as I pace about my room creating an unnatual looking shadow and I swear I spot one!

Their feeding habits trouble me.
Their mating habits trouble me.
Their sleeping habits trouble me.
I think about them all the time.

I found one in my bath towel and almost wept.

These alien creatures who became my neighbors.
Then my roommates.

I do not like them.
I want them more than gone.

I have laid traps.
Called assassins.
And many are dead.

But I think about them all the time.

The One That Really Happened

2008-11-22T13:49:00.000-08:00

A fat unpopular white kid

Had a problem with a good looking popular black kid

It appeared there would be a fight.

Another fat white kid.

Slightly less fat

Slightly more popular

Saw opportunity

"You got a problem with my boy?"

The second fat white kid challenged.

With no sense of historical irony it should be noted.

The good looking popular black kid explained

to the second fat white kid that this was not his fight.

But the second fat white kid was proud now

and looked at the good looking popular black kid

as his brother.

One he was put on this earth to protect.

And he smelled opportunity.

And so it came to pass,

That two fat white kids

Who were usually ignored

Were the center of attention

They flailed about.

The second white kid flailed in a manner that garnered the crowd's admiration

And they cheered that fat white kid as he

stood up

for the oppressed

good looking

popular black kid

At one point

Mid Fight

The second white kid stopped

And turned to his peers

To soak in this rare good will he felt from them.

He then turned and continued to pummel his sudden enemy

And oppressor of all good people everywhere.

A third fat white kid would later remark

That when that fat kid turned

And saw the people cheering

"He smiled the biggest smile I ever saw."

Years would pass

The first fat kid discovered punk music and moved on

The good looking popular black kid was murdered

alone in his house

And the second fat white kid wrote a poem about it all

Still confused

Still desperate

Defensive

2008-11-21T03:27:00.000-08:00

Instances Where You Can Use Someone’s Else’s Poetry

Poetry has gotten kind of a bad rap.
Not w-r-a-p, like Saran
But r-a-p, like hip hop
But not hip hop,
(Although hip hop is poetry)

But rap,
Like slang for reputation.
It can be confusing

Those last lines are probably part of the problem.
Part of the reason poetry’s gotten such a bad rap.

But don’t throw poetry out with me!

I am the bathwater.
Poetry is the baby.
It’s not poetry’s fault that I’m not a very good poet.
I’m just not.
There are lots of other poets who will tell you that I’m not
And some them are good.

Not Good capital G
Like Good versus Evil.
But good poets.
Which actually is a Good thing to be.
We really need some good poets.
Because most of the good ones are dead.1
But you can read their work.
In the bible.
Or your World Lit Anthology.

That’s why so many of us bad poets keep writing.
We’re keeping the seat warm.
Waiting for the good guys.
We’re sirens.
Writing and writing our bad poetry.
Hoping some good genius will take notice
And come over here and fix all this.

Or maybe

We are good poets.
But the problem is that we’re not dead yet.
But one day
When you’re dead
And I’m dead
And a-lot of other people are dead
Someone who is alive will read this poetry
And they will say
“WOW!
That guy was really good!
It’s too bad he’s dead because I would really like to tell him what a good poet he is and how he helped me have a better day today and I wish all those people who were alive when he was alive treated him better and they really missed out and they should have been more appreciative of the genius in their midst!
Footnote:
When I’m quiet at night
I can hear that person.

The point is that regardless of your feelings on my poetry
Poetry, the Art, is valuable and useful to all of us

And here just a few examples where memorizing someone else’s poetry can be helpful.

A neighbor’s house is burning down,
someone behind you is playing a violin
and you want to sound really cool.

Your child’s first pet has just died
You’re having trouble taking the trauma seriously
But you want to say something
Just to let the kid know you care

You have to give an off-the-cuff Best Man Speech
Or
You have to give an off-the-cuff Eulogy

Really it’s useful at any formal or informal gathering
Where without warning the mob turns to you and shout-chants
SPEECH!
SPEECH!
SPEECH!
SPEECH!

For these random occurrences
I recommend having a handle on Robert Frost
Specifically,
The Road Not Taken
Sure everybody knows it and nobody is going to go
“Geez! That guy really knows his poetry!”
But here’s a secret.
When you recite poetry that everybody knows.
You not only make yourself look smart.
But you make everybody else, having recognized the poetry, feel smart as well.
And that makes everyone feel positively about you.
Which is the point of every speech.

So like I said
Poetry is very useful.

Oh!

I almost forgot
The whole reason I wrote the poem
Yesterday I was at Starbucks
I was really frustrated
There was a foreign person who just couldn’t order their beverage.
Which confused me.
Because
isn’t everything at Starbucks foreign?
It should be the one place in America
where every foreign person feels at home.
Starbucks,

It’s like America’s first Barack Obama.
Where we said
“Look World. We’re really trying.”

So I was convinced that that I was never going to get my coffee
Which was all I wanted
And I was frustrated and confused
Because if Starbucks doesn’t help us with the foreigners
What will?

And then it hit me.

T.S. Eliot

This is the way the world ends
This is the way the world ends
This is the way the world ends
Not with a bang but with a whimper

And suddenly my wait didn’t seem so bad
It even made a weird kind of sense

1. Not a fair point really. This is a pure numbers game. Of course most good poets are dead! The ranks of the living can never outnumber the dead. So there will naturally be more dead good poets than living ones. So we should all take a deep breath, acknowledge the value of our predecessors, and move on!

One So Much Crueler Than The Rest

2008-11-13T11:00:00.000-08:00

Gerald fell down really hard.

You could hear his kneecap when it hit the pavement.

All the kids laughed.

I wasn't laughing.

I never had much of a sense of humor.

But...

I hated to be excluded from a good time.

So I joined.

And to prove I was in on it.

I laughed louder than

every

body

combined.

God could not have laughed louder.

Gerald didn't weep at the cruelty of children.

Gerald wept at the cruelty of his best friend.