My Dog is a Mammal

 

Man and Cat

27^th June 2012

Dear Cassi,

It was on this eve that I was asked to attend some welcome home gathering for a fellow of my acquaintance and having need to collect my coffee from this site I had no room for refusal. The affair was a bother to me as I work nights and it was in the late hours giving me need to rush. Still, I can fault them none in my invitation, as I have never put out to them my ill feeling in any right manner as opportunity has been short.

       

On my arrival I was greeted as if they had seen me yesterday not as a man absent for some months. I am given to feel as if there is something left unsaid by this bunch. Some lingering nature has passed into the realm of taboo and so haunts the air of my arrival. It is as if there is a great looming darkness in the room that will kill the first who speaks of its presents.

       

It is no matter, though, as I come chiefly to say hello to the animals. No less than three cats and four dogs were in attendance tonight. Of these seven six were of good health and one, an orange cat, had grown ill.

       

There was a time when this cat would have run to me and put his front paws on my leg so that I would pick him up. Now he only looks at me as if he tries to remember who I am. I took his bony frame into my arms as I always do and found that he weighed little more than a pound.

       

This was so much the oddity to have this animal so close to death so happy to see me as he had been in better health. He called his call and rubbed his chin in my arm greeting me as a long absent good friend. There was a bitter sweet moment when I returned him to his normal roost that I think we both felt.

       

I may never see that poor animal again, but he had the demeanor lost in most humans. In a way, we should aspire to be so well met as man and cat. This an alliance without fear or mistrust is so worming to the heart.

May you always know the nectar of friendship,

Richard Leland Neal 

Odd Idea For a Gift

 

A Long Drive

21^st June 2012

Dear Cassi,

Yesterday on my way into work I ran over a smashed traffic cone. It would be hard to say if that had something to do with my car no longer being able to move in reverse. Given that I just had so much work done to the transmission and it was making noise long before the cone I doubt that bit of orange plastic could have done any more than brought up the inevitable.

I had looked at cars before and I knew what I wanted so I jumped on line and looked it up. I found a blue Honda LX for fifteen thousand dollars and, knowing that if nothing else my car was unreliable, I made way to the dealer to buy the car. I called first to see if it was still on the lot and it was one of two the other being white.

It was a hard ride to the dealer as my old Saturn had a check engine light burning brightly the whole time I was on the freeway. To harden the point traffic was slow.

I failed to shower before leaving the house as I just wanted this over with and the smell of my body was bothering me. Folks have told me that I react strongly to smell, but some of those folks were Turtle Nose and his friends. Well, who cares what they think.

I made it around nine sixteen in the morning and they handed me the keys and said “take her out, see how she feels.” I had never gone on a test drive without a sales man before but the use of the Civic came naturally to me as it was much like my old car.

I paid the man and had the Saturn towed to the mechanic telling him that he could take his time as I had another car.  He was shocked to hear this but I needed something I could trust to get me to work every night.

Deal with your problems as best you can,

Richard Leland Neal

Mountain Lion Numbers

 

Shortest Horror Story

 

?

A question I have for the two or three folks who read this blog comes up with the creation of this image.  I drew this to accompany the first post on this blog and have since updated said post to include this image. You can see the post here:

http://letterstocassiandotherfolks.blogspot.com/2011/04/letters-to-cassi-and-other-folks.html

So I need  ask:

Should I update old post with images or delete old post and post them anew when I add an image?

If I simply update the old post should I post an acknowledgement of the update?

Hipster Coffee

 

Three Skills

Some Time in 2012

Systematic Career Intervention may help clients by teaching or reinforcing skills they need in the workforce. Three skills that can be verified both by our text and my work with the homeless are the ability to search for and find a job, the ability to evaluate and make career decisions and the development of a proper work ethic or attitude towards their work environment.

The majority of the clients entering my facility come from unstable situations, have suffered some form of abuse normally both mental and physical, and often self medicate with drugs. Each of these factors makes them poor job candidates. When in residence we often first must make clear to them to need for stable employment and how to become gainfully employed. Things addressed in this area are, how to fill out the application, write the résumé, speak during the job interview, and even how to shake hands with a perspective employer.  Without these most basic skills no other skills are at all useful to many of my clients.

In the normal life in modern times the average person will need to make career decisions and may seek intervention for them. This includes finding an education program, finding a job, or requesting a transfer at work. These decisions may be short or long term and will vary depending on the need of the individual. Two college students may come to the same counselor’s office seeking a job one just needing a few dollars to go out with their friends and the other needing help with tuition.

Some weeks ago a client came to my works station with just this issue. At twenty two he was having trouble deciding what to do with his life both in short and long term. He expressed to me that he had worked in housekeeping and might stay in that line of work, considered joining the Navy, and had a desire to be involved in politics.

A few questions revealed that he had no clear view of what it meant to work in government. This prompted my suggesting he gain and education in this area and return to it later in life. That left two options leading me to first ask if he had spoken to a recruiting sergeant. He responded in the negative, and I advanced the young man research janitorial work then speak to a Navy recruiter. On doing this I suggested he way the options so that he could make a decision.

I expressed that the way to way his options is to take two sheets of paper and divide each in half. On one sheet place on the first half all the advantages to his first job choice and on the second half all the disadvantages. He was then to do the same thing with his second job choice and assign a number value to each positive and negative. Subtract pluses from minuses and then compare how the two jobs had scored. To close this conversation I explained to him that this would not be the last job of his life, and that if he made one decision it was by no means permanent. When counseling a client with high anxiety reminding them that they have that option is very important.

Maintaining a healthy work ethic is difficult in the modern world of downsizing and layoffs. It is a large issue given that many of my clients work until they have money then live off that until they absolutely need a job.  A poor work ethic will slow development and reuptake into the economy. It should be noted that “optimal human functioning” and “fulfilling human potential” (Niles & Harris-Bowlsbey, 2009, p.3) would be nearly impossible without an appropriate work ethic.

I often inform clients that they should work as if they had the job they want so that when they get the job they want none of their previous behavior will hamper them. Back in two thousand seven I worked with a man who wanted to be a wrapper and had spent hundreds on building his studio. He worked as if he had no desire to be there and likewise rarely could report having laid down tracks for a new song. What he took to work was what he brought home.

References

Niles, S. G., & Harris-Bowlsbey, J. G. (2009). Introduction to Career Development Interventions. In Career Development Interventions in the 21st Century (3rd ed., Ch 1).

Mom vs. Wife

Organizing My Business

16^th June 2012

Dear Cassi,

I drudge on in the working of organizing my business and make little improvement. This game I have played alone is one that I am losing as I labor on seeing day after day that my home is still a mess and my comics make only the smallest progress at becoming organized.

       

I set about this task around two weeks ago and as I struggle on I see the massiveness of my labors. I dedicated to viewing another of my comics on the old Vengeful Rose website for every action towards my goal of clean home and organized affairs. My goal is to finish by the time I have viewed every comic on every one of the six computer screens in my work room.

       

I’ve passed through the first screen and am working on the second but the house looks as it did before even as I do come closer to having my comics in order. My body is a lump of cold dead flesh animated by nothing but the motion of will and so it crawls on at a snail’s pace.

       

I find myself in a prison of my own making. The walls are high but broken and the guards are but shadows. Still it binds me so securely.

Find your freedom,

Richard Leland Neal

Rafael's Bertday Card

At my work we get a list of folks having birthdays every month. They did nothing for me and that's how I like it, but I'm not the world so I like to at least give a not to folks who do care for these things.

Lon's Birthday Card

If there is one thing I have no stomach for it's generic cards so I write my own. Childish I know, but at least it shows I put in the effort.

I never mind if I get a generic card so long as someone said something on the thing. A card from the store with no inscription belongs in the trash bin. 

Hospital Food

12^th June 2012

Dear Cassi,

One of the points I failed to bring up about my trip to the hospital was that I had three hours to kill between appointments and as long as it feels like I spent in the pharmacy it just wasn’t that long. So, my doctor mentioned that there was a cafeteria on the same floor as her office and as I had not eaten it decided to take my laptop out and spend some time there. I walked in to see what reminded me of a high school cafeteria with the registers well out of site.

       

I walked around for a few seconds wondering where the plates and trays were until I saw that small stacks of disposables sat around the place. The trays were cleverly hidden behind the door so it took me a minute to find them.

       

There was a small selection of reheated food and baked goods. I grabbed a cinnamon role and what looked like a long photograph of pizza. It was the thinnest pizza I have ever had and it had the consistency of beef jerky.

The next disappointment came when I found that they only had diet soft drinks. They really are no better for you then their calorie ridden cousins. Some would even say they are worse, but whatever they are their chemical foulness has never passed with me.

Turtle Nose, if you recall, had a thing for diet soda and so in supplementing he was always eating ice cream. It turns out that diet sweeteners make you want sweet even more and drive your wait up. A diet high in diet sweeteners is often one high in sugar because of the craving. That and they make me ill.

I sat eating what was food only in name and hammering on keys working of a report for school. The place was empty, can’t imagine why.

Eat natural, little sister,

Richard Leland Neal

Sassy Socks

 

Something Stronger

11^th June 2012

Dear Cassi,

Today I saw the doctor again and got a stronger sleeping pill. There is a hollow feeling in my chest with the acceptance of this medication, but what can I do? I need to sleep and sleep is denied me. I feel as if I’m betraying some trust with myself taking these things. I’m now on the largest dose of SSRI that they will proscribe for my medication. The doctor said that I should feel energized, but I simply do not.

My old man was a pill pusher and so taking these things offends me because of him. He horded these things and thought that all the answers lived in those little vials growing dusty and cracked in his pink box that had once held my mother’s makeup.

I know that the pill can do no more than simply help, and I have been told that the same recovery can be made without them so long as someone is willing to wait another ten years to recover. No, these pills will be a part of my life until I resolve the issues in my head. The nature of my problem is long lasting and requires cognitive restructuring.

I need to reassign emotions to the events of my life. How do you un-feel? How is it possible to take the natural feelings of a man and dash them into the world of passable? I’ve chosen to laugh at a good amount of my pain because laughing is better than crying. Well, no, I never cried, I just got angry. Laughing is better than getting angry as well. It’s better for your heart. Anger causes heart disease.

Live healthy, little sister,

Richard Leland Neal

Ocean Shiver

 

Reflections of a Made Man

9^th June 2012

Dear Cassi,

Mental problems are as common to the homeless as shoes are on feet. Still, every now and then and odd one crops up to take the prize for crazy of the day. Last night I had one of those folks.

I’d say in general he was the nicest fellow. He had the laughing nature of an infant about him that I could never understand. Still he was a man that thought out loud and lived in his own grand universe.

He was noted to look in the mirror and laugh carrying on about what great things he could do to help society. He watched his reflection as though it were his best friend and enjoying his Talk.

There were cognitive words about hydroelectric power and transportation, but he said nothing that I could put into thoughts. He turned to me once in this interlude and said “It will work, they’ll have to call it a dehiglofoop but it’ll work. It’ll replace cars in ten years and everyone will be able to use it but if they come late they’ll have to wait three hours.”

Finally he went to sleep and I switched my fans on and let the cool air and hummm sing to me as I worked. As lines ran across my computer screen I noticed a smell like fresh dog mess. Not so much noticed as it nearly knocked me from my chair.

I turned my fans off and it did so little that I turned them back on again. After an hour of experimenting in air flow I just turned them off and left them off but the smell was choking.

In the end this poor fellow was taken to a place better suited to his needs. In my business Cassi, working with the homeless, I fill sad for every life I can’t better. Let’s hope this is not one of them.

Find your place, little sister,

Richard Leland Neal

Surgery and Sushi - Graham Norton

 

Money Where I Can See it - Sex and the City

 

Something of a Game

7^th June 2012

Dear Cassi,

I’m playing something of a game. Every time I get something done I flick a comic on the old vengeful rose website that Eric put up. This bit of business is a thorn in my side and I need to take it out sooner or later. I believe Eric put this up in good faith but Turtle Nose convinced him otherwise.

       

When the first site was made to display my web-comics it listed Eric as a webmaster. After I broke with Turtle Nose Eric removed that section to leave an error warning in its place. After that last conversation I had with Turtle Nose the error was fixed so you could never tell a webmaster was listed.

       

When I finally put my foot down and expected Turtle Nose to get my name right he had Eric pull the advertising from the site. That makes it impossible for me to make money off my work, not that there was much to make in that time, but it’s the insult that counts.

       

So now the ads are back and I can make money on a site that can be pulled from under me at any time. So with every action I complete, like writing this letter, I turn to a new page of this site in a hope that I can cause Eric to take it down.

       

In the process of this I will get my comics properly logged and measured so that I know when they were published. The first generation had no issue numbers and so there is a need for recordings to recall the order of them.

Wish me luck, little sister,

Richard Leland Neal

Ninja Shoes

 

Nasty Song

4^th June 2012

Dear Cassi,

Another of the musical stories of my middle school acutance Earp involves the song “Hi, My Name is Joe”. This was an old childhood fun song that went ‘Hi, my name is Joe and I work in a button factory, I’ve got a wife, and a dog, and a family.’ No mention was made of Joe’s crappy grammar. “One day, my boss came up to me and said, “Joe, are you busy?” I said, “No”. He said “push this button with your right hand.”’

       

Joe’s labors soon included his left hand right and left foot and finally his head. After the whole of his body was in the work of button making Joe’s boss would come once again only to have Joe say that he was busy.

       

The point of this song has never truly been clear to me, but as it gave children and those who look after them something to do I do not complain of such things.

       

Well, Earp had his own version that involved Joe masturbating his supervisor with the whole of his body. School children giggle over nasty bits like this and so I found it humorous enough to tell a few folks. Those folks went and told others who asked me to sing Earp’s song.

       

Imagine my surprise when Earp was talking about his dirty limerick as if I was the author. I marched over to him and told him that I had gotten the song from him and that he’d best stop putting his words in my mouth.

       

Earp would have made a good politician with his ideal features and slimy attitudes. Then it comes to me that most abusive folks would make good politicians.

Keep good company, little sister,

Richard Leland Neal

Cinderella Soccer

 

Happy and Cruel

2^nd June 2012

Dear Cassi,

If you recall my letter about a girl so cruelly nicknamed Buffalo Chips. Her closet male friend was a man who we all thought was gay as a pigeon at a garbage dump. I’m going to call this fellow Earp for no good reason.

       

Earp thought of himself as a Hollywood type and so I guess he was, fit and healthy with blue eyes and blond hair. Come to think of it the two of us would have looked like brother had I not been a pimple studded wildebeest. I would never trade my wildebeest nature for his limp wrist boyishness but each to his own.

       

In any case Earp was already doing extra work in Hollywood so far as I knew and he talked about his time on the set of ‘Toy Story’. I think I was supposed to be impressed by this but I saw no reason to be so moved.  

       

Now gay was still something of a major insult among children in my middle school. However, Earp did grab another fellow’s back end so I honestly think he was a homosexual.

       

Then, as I recall, my own reality was something of a reason for insult. There were a few boys who would sing “Rick-y Neal, he’s so god dame fat” whenever I walked in the door so I guess we as children were cruel folks.  

       

Potato would sin this song “I’m a fag watcher, I’m a fag watcher, watching Earp go by, oooh my my”. I would have to say that this would make Potato as gay has his watched subject as he was then admiring another man from a distance.

       

What did we think at twelve and thirteen? Was their much in the way of logic to our rambling? Children are cruel things in this world and we pick at each other. I’d look back in shame but how accountable can a child be?

Don’t look back in anger, little sister,

Richard Leland Neal

Alien Ears

 

Batman Skips Church

 

The Washer that Would Not Die

30^th May 2012

Dear Cassi,

I believe I mentioned the notorious tinkering of Grandpa Leland. It is my understanding that the mishmash of lights in my garage is his doing and they have worked, slowly dying out over the last thirty years, in an acceptable fashion.

       

It is my understanding that grandpa Leland worked at a factory that made ceramic fittings. “It was a crappy job but it paid good,” Alan had told me once. Leland was a defects repair specialist. He would have to lift tubs and toilets and such and sand out imperfections in the porcelain then retouch the finish.

       

This was a hard job for the man and he retired after a stroke made him incapable of working. Never the less he was a man who insisted on doing all his own home repairs. This he did in an extravagant manner that only he understood.

       

I’m told he had this one old washer that he refused to replace. Bolts had rusted out in the body so he got hold of some aircraft bolts, military surplus, and installed them in board out holes. When he turned the machine on again it made a hideous grinding sound that his neighbors complained over but it worked and so he paid them no mind.

       

Then one day a side of the machine fell free having been ground off by the bolts. This gave Leland no trouble as he welded a plate over the hole. Over time that machine became a funny, oddly shaped contraption for a funny, oddly shaped man.

       

From what I gather Grandpa Leland’s handiwork was easy to spot, hard to understand, but did the job in its own odd way.

Sometimes we find our own way, little sister,

Richard Leland Neal