Young, hung, and full of vitriol...

I can't offer works of staggering genius, but what you will get are my sometimes funny, questioningly intelligent, frighteningly vitriolic, occasionally shockingly sweet, but almost always charmingly grouchy ramblings on music, film, politics, society, pop culture, literature, queer life, travel, Kansas City, and the mundane, yet surreal aspects of everyday.

I'm a queer punk country boy in his late 30s, who has settled back in the midwest after a decade or so of living around the country. My boyfriend, MJ and I moved to Kansas City a couple of years ago after an insanely surreal life in rural, southeast Kansas. This is my attempt at getting back into writing after a longer than anticipated hiatus. I'm still a bit rusty, so be gentle with me...A bottle of wine, some Barry White, and a can of Crisco usually does the job.

Tuesday, April 6, 2010

Recycling special ed stories...I am going to hell...

So, it's been a month and a half since my last post. A lot has happened in my personal life, and I've discovered a hell of a lot of great new music. I just haven't at all been inspired to write. Anytime I sit down to, I get distracted by some aspect of my life, whether trivial or intense. I have a lot of things to write about and plan on it as soon as I make sense of it, or I just feel like rambling about a few bands I've come across lately...Until then, here's an old entry from Livejournal that was written during my time working with high school special ed students. I've been meaning to get all of these adventures together and see if I can make something of them. Feel free to comment, suggest, whatever...


Yesterday afternoon, one of my students came bounding into class, hooting and hollering all excited...this isn't uncommon because he's an obnoxious prick, but he proclaimed that he had something he needed to tell the class...he was obviously foaming at the mouth to share it, and since there is still a tiny sliver of niceness left in me, I told him to go ahead...plus you never know when it'll make good story material...anyway, he tries to get the class quiet, which is quite a chore with 19 special ed students, half of whom are behavior disorder, but anyway, he clears his throat dramatically to get everyone's attention and then announces, "I know what I'm going to do when I graduate..." He's a senior and will be graduating next month. As much as I want to encourage my kids, I knew this was going to be a train wreck..."I am going to college to be one of those guys that makes things talk!!" The teachers just look at each other a bit confused. "You know...one of those guys that makes things talk without talking...like they stick the dummy on their leg and make them talk without talking..." A ventriloquist, I mutter. "Yeah...one of those guys that make dummies talk." I bit my tongue to keep from blurting out, "You mean my job?" Anyway...I know I'm a mean evil bastard and shall end up with downs syndrome, a bad limp, and a stutter in hell, but I found this fucking hilarious...first, ANYONE wanting to be a ventriloquist is funny as shit to me...but this student in particular? It just killed me. I am glad that he has a goal, though I'm more happy that he is graduating as he drives me to borderline homicide...not a day goes by that I don't daydream about punching him in the back of the head with my stapler. I've written about him stalking me before...calling my house 30 times a night and showing up on my porch in the middle of the night...saying incredibly inappropriate things to me (which I guess now, he'll be able to do from inanimate objects). He's also a compulsive liar...RASCAL FLATTS asked him to join the band, but he wanted to finish school...and EVERY girl he gets fixated on becomes his girlfriend, moves in with him, is pregnant with his baby, and they ALWAYS have to have an "NDA" test, which I will assumed is a DNA/paternity test to see if it's his...which always happens magically overnight despite the fact that we are in the fucking middle of nowhere...it's always his and yet, somehow, when he fixates on a new person, the whole thing magically goes away...i gues it's an immaculate conception AND miscarriage...he's now started "practicing" by making his pens and pencils talk to each other...he's given them all names and makes them speak for him in class...this is amusing, yet fucking creepy...as it's very disturbing having a pen named SUSIE babbling random shit that makes no sense while you're trying to teach history...when I ask him to quiet down and stop disturbing my class, he gets pissed and says that he needs to practice and that I am ruining his future!

To top it off, the poor bastard looks like a rejected extra from PLANET OF THE APES...there is nothing physcially wrong with him...he's just behavior disordered and a bit slow, but he really looks like his momma fucked CHIM CHIM...and yesterday on my way to the grocery store, I drove by him...he was squatting down on the sidewalk, tying his shoe or looking for grubs or something...he stopped, jerked his head up with his arms out, and followed my car with his head, mouth and eyes wide open...he looked like a nature film when chimps are walking, hear something, and stop and look around for the source...I kept expected Marlon fucking Perkins to start doing a voiceover...

anyway...maybe none of this is amusing...maybe i'm just a mean jaded beast of a man...but i find this shit endlessly amusing...trust me...special ed, or not, the kid's an asshole...

2 comments:

  1. Was funny the first time I read still is. You are gonna burn though !! LOL!! <3

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  2. LOL. Thank you. I have a bunch of those stories about Iola and teaching special ed saved. I keep thinking I might try to edit them together and make some kind of book or something out of it. Figured, I'd try them out in rough form on here and see what kind of response I get. lol

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