Monthly Archives: July 2009

My Nephew Doesn’t Yap




biz in boots

Originally uploaded by officergleason

My nephew, Biznacho, is not a yappy dog. He’s a clever, cute and cuddly schnauzer. He’s not the kind of dog to bark or yap–unless he wants you to pick him up–but he will fetch, run around and play with cats.

Biz isn’t the kind of asshole yappy dog that’ll sit at your window and bark ALL FUCKING NIGHT. No. Biz will sleep on your bed and only bark–it sounds more like a asthmatic grunt really–if he wants you to do something. Not like our neighbor. Biz also wouldn’t be stupid enough to play with neighborhood–read feral–cats. Misty does.

No wonder why our landords don’t allow dogs. Most of them are yappy bastards.


The Truth Is Hard To Swallow

I’ve kept this from my friends and family long enough, but with the events of two weeks ago, I can no longer keep it a secret.

A little over a year ago, I took some friends to Three Lakes. I demanded that they follow the traditional Gleason Ritual of Summoning the Yaqi Gods of Wisdom. This is a ritual full of Tequila, Salt and Lime. While everyone helped summon the Gods of Wisdom, three of us went for a walk towards the end of the road.

Something happened. There was a flash of light and we lost fifteen, maybe twenty, minutes of our life. As we walked back to the Cabin, the three of us had no idea how long we were gone. When the rest of the folks in the cabin asked us why we were down at the road for so long, we just said, “We were just appreciating the woods.”

The dreams started that night. They were vivid dreams, where spirits spoke to me in a language I didn’t understand. They weren’t nightmares, because the spirits were kind to me. They taught me their ways–how to see the world, how to read the intentions of people, how to fight, how to speak their language–and they blessed me with strength, but they told me to wait until Yaqi Herself spoke to me. They told me to prepare for her test.

She came to me on the 7/25, a year ago this very day, and told me that there were tasks to be done. My education wasn’t complete until I succeed at my rite of passage. At first, I dismissed her command. I laughed away the whole thing. I went into the field, the far south side of Chicago, visiting my clients. At Noon, when my shadow was just underneath my feet, I was standing in the Starbucks at 71st and Stony Island:

View Larger Map when my world fell away.

There was another man in the Starbucks–he was babbling incoherently and sipping and an iced-tea–but when my world fell away, he snarled at me. He was taller in this no-place, and he no longer looked human. His knees bent backward, and his arms had an extra joint. His hands ended in razor sharp claws. He spoke in the same language the Yaqi did. He held on to the ice tea he was drinking, but not with his hands. He had a tail that wrapped around his body, long enough to still pick up the tea.

The spirit thing rushed at me. I freaked out. I ran out of the Starbucks–away from the monster–and towards my car. It, or he, grabbed me and cut my shoulder. I spun around from the force. I did the unthinkable. I stood my ground and swung at the monster. It blocked my first punch, my second punch and a kick to its chest. It hit me with its palm and knocked me to the ground. It got on top of me and started to claw at my eyes.

I head-butted its mishappen nose. The monster roared back, and I was able to wiggle away from it. While it was on the ground, I ran away again. I didn’t get far. The monster recovered quickly and charged at me. I turned around, and with my back to the car, delivered a right hook to the monster’s face. It crumbled. The monster literally shattered, leaving behind the man it had possessed. I heard the Yaqi speak to me, saying I had survived their test. The police showed up shortly thereafter–not to arrest the guy, but to get their complimentary coffee. They arrested him, took my statement, and then bought me another coffee.

Since then, I’ve been living a double life. Every time I’ve been, “in the field” I’ve been scouring the south side for the nasty spirits that have inhabited the blighted parts of Chicago. The Yaqi gave me the strength and the sight to see these spirits, but their gifts have required me to do more and more. I’ve been able to keep my new superpowers a secret for so long. No one notices fights on the south side. The City itself gets the credit for making my neighborhoods safer and greener, but in truth, it is me and the Yaqi Gods that have kept my part of town safe.

What happened in the park, two weeks ago, was the first time anyone has seen me using the gifts bestowed upon me by the Yaqi. It is time I confessed.

That first day was the scariest day of my life. My powers came to me while I was sipping a venti coffee fortified with two shots of espresso. I became a superhero that day…but it is a power I never really wanted. They are powers that I just have to accept.


Pirate




Pirate

Originally uploaded by officergleason

Yar?


Pirate




Pirate

Originally uploaded by officergleason

Yar?


His Boom Box Was Named Big Baby

From: Wanted to Trade RP, the WoW blog I contribute to. This was written by Hillary:

I’m going to post a quick story, though, that I may eventually fiction out as an in character exchange, but for the time being, our readers should enjoy the absolute asskickery that is our author Bricu. The Feathermoon folks gathered at a park mid-Seattle. There were burgers, watermelon slices, salads, soda, and all around awesome food. Mid-meal, a gentleman that later identified himself as Grizzly walked up with a boombox propped on his shoulder. It was INCREDIBLY LOUD. One of our attendees had small children about, and respectfully requested that Grizzly lower the volume to not disupt the kids. This was about the time Grizzly’s intoxicated status became evident. We’re pretty sure he wasn’t on booze, but whatever it was, he was pretty fucked up. He began to rant how the park was his domain, we should RESPECT HIM, and then he started standing on picnic tables, his boombox on his shoulder, blazing awesome-tastic radio edited hiphop. Bricu tried to talk him down, but to no avail; Grizzly would have none of it.

After about ten or fifteen minutes of rudeness and disruption with most of our attendees incredibly uncomfortable by this stranger’s presence (he was not very subtle when he scoped out the lady’s purses), we called the Seattle police. Grizzly did not like police. Grizzly was shit out of luck because we’d had enough. As his sour mood and antics escalated, so did our calls to the authorities. He knocked over a trash barrel, started punching lit grills, and then got into people’s faces trying to intimidate them. To his credit, he was successful on the intimidation account. I was one of the folks that he decided to talk shit to, and it wasn’t fun. None of us had any idea who this guy was or what he was capable of. All we knew was he was ON something and hostile.

Thirty minutes passed, then forty, and still no PD. Our calls to 911 revealed that public disruption wasn’t an emergency situation and they’d get there when they could. Well, then Grizzly hit someone. He walked up to the chillest person there, slapped him across the face for absolutely NO REASON and talked a bunch of smack. He then swung on Tarquin, the event’s organizer. Bricu stuck himself between the men, yelled at him to stop. Grizzly took a couple of swings at him, Bricu Matrixed out with a pair of dodges, and then single shot him onto the pavement with a crack to the jaw. The nerd pigpile happened at that point – Bricu sat on his back, another gentleman restrained his arms while yet another sat on his legs. Another 911 call yielded the desired results, and the PD showed up about four or five minutes later.

I think perhaps my favorite part of this whole debaucle was Zalbuu, the Wildfire Rider’s angry priest. He was the guy sitting on Grizzly’s legs as we waited for the police. While he had this dude pinned, his cell phone rang. He picked it up, and all the rest of us can hear?

“Mom, this really isn’t a good time.”

And despite all this–and my right hook–I’m not settled with this. I haven’t hit another person–excluding my brother–since the 7th grade. I do not believe in violence. I really don’t. I cannot for the life of me think of a better way to have handled this. Grizzly got upset when I moved the cherries we had laid out away from him. If we started packing all of the food, he would have gotten more upset. There were kids there when he started (thankfully, before the slap, they were taken to a car so they didn’t have to see this). We called the Police. Hell, I called the police five times.

He could have had a gun or a knife. He could have really hurt someone. I jumped in because I thought I could take a punch better than my friend. I doubt I could have handled a stabbing….

There is another problem here that I am struggling with. I feel pretty good about the punch itself. It was one punch–the pig pile had other restraints and holds involved–and that’s a pretty damn macho thing. The base, reptilian part of my brain thinks that’s really cool. I’m old enough (and mature enough) to know it isn’t. What it means is that despite all of the skills I have developed at working with people, I had to resort to a method that doesn’t sit well.

My Dad always said “You never start a fight, but you always finish one.” I finished one. I still don’t feel good about it.


A New Direction

As part of my vacation, I got to tour the Microsoft campus. I’ve written about this before, and I am still amazed at it’s beauty, function and generosity of service. Seriously, free coffee, tea, soda and milk? Healthy and cheap snacks? I’m sold!

More importantly though, I got to learn more about programming and application developement. My friend Sandy quickly summarized the difference between testing, developement and project management. I’ve know about the delegation of duties, but Sandy made them crystal clear. This quick summary helped me figure out exactly what I want from DePaul. I want to develop the skills to be a project manager.

I think it’s something I can do. Coding may not be my strong suit. Testing is not something I want to do full time. And yet, I think I can learn enough code to guide a project. I know I respond well to honest and direct feed back. I also have developed a skill set where I can work with damn near anybody. So I think this is what I need to focus on for DePaul.


Downtime

Just me and Genghis. Chillin.


75% Enthusasim

In a few hours, I am leaving for Seattle. Its a trip I have had planned for a while, and as happy as I am to go west and visit lots of friends, I am also feeling a bit down.

See, Shannon leaves for Ireland while I’m gone. She comes back on the 23. I come back the 15. That’s eight more days without her. There is also the fact that Shannon and I travel well together. She keeps me witty and on my toes–even when I don’t want to do either–and my friends adore her. Honestly, who doesn’t?

Shannon also keeps me safe from fascists when I drink. She won’t be there…so I need to be more careful.

Don’t get me wrong: I can travel and hang out without her. I just don’t want to.


Day two: waking up is hard

Waking up early blows. Here is coffee.


Benefits of a Short Commute

I live a hop, skip and a jump away from work. It is an insanely short distance–about a mile–that has opened up a number of possibilities for me. For instance, if I lack motivation, I can sleep in and get to work at 9. If I am feeling supermotivated (or under the gun) I can get to work at 8.

What has dawned on me is the middle road. I can get up early, putz around the apartment, and get to work at 8:30. Like today: I am having a leisurely breakfast, complete with coffee and juice, before heading out the door. My putzing doesn’t have to stop at blogging and breakfast. Oh no. I can–and want to–start doing more physical activity.

I could bike to work. I could work out–whatever that entails–then shower and get to work at 9. I could, and should, develop a better routine. Given that my brother is looking to change his lifestyle, I figure I can do the same. The cool thing about my system of change? I have a triathlete on my side.


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