I've come across a revelation. A revelation, at least, to me. A couple of places on the intertubes have called it "The Brad Pitt Rule" and I think that's a pretty good name.
There was a girl in college. There was a girl in college in one of my classes. There was a girl in college in one of my classes that I often felt like walking out of. Instead, we'd pass the time talking quietly and jotting witty quips on our "notes."
I got to know her and thought something along the lines of "Hey, this is a pretty cool chick." I didn't throw myself out there much, but for some reason I did this time. I called her up and asked if she wanted to grab some coffee. She hemmed and hawed a bit and said that she'd love to, but she had to "go running." One of the things that we had in common was the fact that we both risked death by trying the Atkins low-carb diet. She had started running and had really gotten into it. I, on the other hand, had started napping and had really gotten into it.
I tried a couple more times and every time she had to "run." After the third time I started to catch on.
This is where the Brad Pitt Rule kicks in.
The Brad Pitt Rule states that if you ask a girl out and she says yes, then great, she probably likes you. If she gives an excuse, then you have to ask yourself, "What if it weren't me who asked her out? What if it were Brad Pitt? Would she still have to study, or hang out with friends, or run?"
Of course not.
She would have moved things around, made exceptions, rescheduled, done pretty much anything to go out on that date.
Brad Pitt himself isn't really relevant; it's what he represents. He represent what she wants.
If you are what she wants, she will drop her other plans to spend time with you. You make time for what your heart truly wants.
Of course, there are exceptions. She very well may have to work all night or need to study for her midterm that's in the morning. But if she's really into it, she'll be up for something some other time (and maybe even suggest it herself).
So if there's an excuse and nothing else is planned, she's just not into you.
Sorry.
Quit calling her.
Weirdo.
10.19.2008
9.24.2008
JaK+8
After watching a couple of episodes of "Jon and Kate Plus 8" . . .
. . . it is becoming more probable that I will never have children.
. . . it is becoming more probable that I will never have children.
9.08.2008
Crap!
I missed it! My two year birthday came and went, and I had no idea.
Poo.
(that's two fecal interjections in 17 words. Not too shabby.)
Poo.
(that's two fecal interjections in 17 words. Not too shabby.)
8.11.2008
The Implement of My Return
I really did. I had every intention of coming back. There were several ideas that had come to fruition enough to immortalize in text. Partly screaming wreckage from my "Thing a Day" ordeal, partly updates in life. Even observations and dreamscapes. Sentence fragments for punch. But then something happened. Maybe nothing happened. Regardless, I was more than happy to continue silently. You know that squiggly circle cartoon guy on those Zoloft commercials? The one with the voice over that talks about losing interest in what you once enjoyed.
In a way, I guess, I was that squiggle man.
Honestly, I am still fairly ambivalent about it all (in this case "it all" represents the idea of making digital carbon copies of my thought and periodically anchoring them to mass of ones and zeros in the intertubes). I am both alive and dead here.
I am Schrodinger's blogger.
I am here, though, and I suppose that's the most important part. What usually brings me here is intangible. A thought, a dream, a concept. This is not the case tonight. That which brought me back is quite concrete, a thing that can be grasped and weighed and looked at with judging eyes.
It is a keyboard.
Start lighting your torches.
It's one of those white Buick-sized monsters that purr when you type. By "purr" I mean click sensuously. It's a holdover from the days when screens were monochromatic, disks were floppy, and Oregon Trail was the pinnacle of computer gaming. Since the mouse became the main way people interfaced with their computer the keyboard has suffered a slow humiliating death. It has been resigned to an afterthought, something to be cheaply produced and used only when absolutely necessary. A keystroke on a modern keyboard gives as much tactile response as pressing down on the back of a young frog. The buckled spring keys have been replaced with a (much cheaper) membrane contact system. Press the key and the two contacts squish together and register a keystroke. Woohoo.
This only really matters to a certain grouping of people. It's actually the cross section of two groups, in the middle of which I nestle myself quite comfortably. This is easiest to show in Venn Diagram:
I have wanted to return to my roots for some time now. Thoughts like "I wish I still had that old 286 computer) were intermingled with internet research. I stumbled across a few off-brand types at various thrift stores and such places. Their heaped forms stand testament that they didn't work (note to self: throw those out . . . no wait. eBay. . ."Slightly used. . . Vintage") To do it right, you need to go with the right one, the original:
IBM.
I was at a Swap-N-Shop (a nice term for "outdoor place for me to sell you my crap and vice versa") and nearly walked past the old lady's stall. Out in front sat a beat-up, dingy keyboard. The gray dust of the gravel sat heavily on it as it had been laid out to display and then packed up at the end of the day on a number of occasions. After many failed attempts I had ceased running my fingers over every keyboard I came across. I had purchased every one that didn't meet my fingers with a sickening squish and not once had one of them worked. Out of some semblance of habit I depress one of the grimy keys.
Click.
It took me a moment to realize the gravity of the situation. Shakingly I asked the old lady (some might call her a bag lady) what her price was. I haggled her down from five dollars to three, though inwardly this felt quite greedy.
I took it home and shelved it. The longer it sat there untested the longer the possibility that it actually worked. This seemed quite impossible, though, given its condition. I found it in my heart to nurse it back to health, bathing it in sweet rubbing alcohol and scrubbing behind its plastic ears with Q-Tips. An hour or so of TLC and it shone like the sun. Well, an old, burly sun with grime still in some crannies.
Long story long, I plugged it in and here we are!
In a way, I guess, I was that squiggle man.
Honestly, I am still fairly ambivalent about it all (in this case "it all" represents the idea of making digital carbon copies of my thought and periodically anchoring them to mass of ones and zeros in the intertubes). I am both alive and dead here.
I am Schrodinger's blogger.
I am here, though, and I suppose that's the most important part. What usually brings me here is intangible. A thought, a dream, a concept. This is not the case tonight. That which brought me back is quite concrete, a thing that can be grasped and weighed and looked at with judging eyes.
It is a keyboard.
Start lighting your torches.
It's one of those white Buick-sized monsters that purr when you type. By "purr" I mean click sensuously. It's a holdover from the days when screens were monochromatic, disks were floppy, and Oregon Trail was the pinnacle of computer gaming. Since the mouse became the main way people interfaced with their computer the keyboard has suffered a slow humiliating death. It has been resigned to an afterthought, something to be cheaply produced and used only when absolutely necessary. A keystroke on a modern keyboard gives as much tactile response as pressing down on the back of a young frog. The buckled spring keys have been replaced with a (much cheaper) membrane contact system. Press the key and the two contacts squish together and register a keystroke. Woohoo.
This only really matters to a certain grouping of people. It's actually the cross section of two groups, in the middle of which I nestle myself quite comfortably. This is easiest to show in Venn Diagram:
I have wanted to return to my roots for some time now. Thoughts like "I wish I still had that old 286 computer) were intermingled with internet research. I stumbled across a few off-brand types at various thrift stores and such places. Their heaped forms stand testament that they didn't work (note to self: throw those out . . . no wait. eBay. . ."Slightly used. . . Vintage") To do it right, you need to go with the right one, the original:
IBM.
I was at a Swap-N-Shop (a nice term for "outdoor place for me to sell you my crap and vice versa") and nearly walked past the old lady's stall. Out in front sat a beat-up, dingy keyboard. The gray dust of the gravel sat heavily on it as it had been laid out to display and then packed up at the end of the day on a number of occasions. After many failed attempts I had ceased running my fingers over every keyboard I came across. I had purchased every one that didn't meet my fingers with a sickening squish and not once had one of them worked. Out of some semblance of habit I depress one of the grimy keys.
Click.
It took me a moment to realize the gravity of the situation. Shakingly I asked the old lady (some might call her a bag lady) what her price was. I haggled her down from five dollars to three, though inwardly this felt quite greedy.
I took it home and shelved it. The longer it sat there untested the longer the possibility that it actually worked. This seemed quite impossible, though, given its condition. I found it in my heart to nurse it back to health, bathing it in sweet rubbing alcohol and scrubbing behind its plastic ears with Q-Tips. An hour or so of TLC and it shone like the sun. Well, an old, burly sun with grime still in some crannies.
Long story long, I plugged it in and here we are!
8.06.2008
7.14.2008
7.11.2008
Ten Minute Dream
I took a ten minute dream in the passenger seat
While the world was flying by
I haven't been gone very long
But it feels like a lifetime.
Yes yes, I know.
I wish I had a delectable tale to pour out, something to give meaning to time past.
But all it seems I do is jump-start stalling.
While the world was flying by
I haven't been gone very long
But it feels like a lifetime.
Yes yes, I know.
I wish I had a delectable tale to pour out, something to give meaning to time past.
But all it seems I do is jump-start stalling.
3.24.2008
Thing a Day! 5: April Showers, yadda yadda yadda, Pilgrims
Showers.
I like to take them.
I don't take them three times a day like my old roommate Matt, but I try to get one in everyday.
I like to think of myself as a shower head aficionado. Or maybe a shower head snob. I like a certain kind of shower head, and when I find one it makes me happy inside. Which kind do you speak of, do you ask (you probably didn't)? Lots and lots of thin, tiny, powerful streams . From one side of the head to the other razor sharp streams. You can keep your massaging heads with 22 different settings or your "outside ring" heads. When you stand under it, it should feel like someone leaning against you with their fist.
And maybe bees.
Where did I gain such deep knowledge of the shower vagaries? Extensive traveling and staying in countless homes and churches around the world, my friend. The most memorable, though, was in Garden City, KS. It wasn't so much a shower tub or shower stall, but rather a shower room. Just think of a high school shower room then take out all of the machismo and every shower head but one. I'm not really sure what it's purpose is, but I imagine you could slick the floor down with shampoo and make a pretty rocking tile slip n slide.
The first night we were there I took a shower (as I am apt to do). A couple of guys came in to use the restroom and I yelled to them to make sure the door latched. Why?
The opening of the shower room was immediately adjacent to the door, on the other side was the gym. Right there. Of course the door didn't get latched and if there was some mysterious indoor wind it would be flapping in the breeze like one of those old-timey saloon doors. Rather, it was just standing wide open. When the water was off, I stuck my sopping wet head around the side. I could see clearly see a game of basketball going on.
That's not really true.
I didn't have my glasses on, so people shaped blobs I assume were guys and girls were playing with a blurry orange sphere that could only be a basketball or a large grapefruit. The key detail here is that my clothes, towel, and everything were around the corner in the actual bathroom, well out of reach.
So my options were to stand there cold, wet, and naked until another guy finally decided he had to pee or make a break for it and streak.
I stood there shivering for a few minutes weighing my options. The whole time I noticed there was always someone facing my direction. If I decided to go for it, whoever the lucky person was would get a good 3-4 clear seconds of my glory.
So what did I do?
I think I made someone's day.
I like to take them.
I don't take them three times a day like my old roommate Matt, but I try to get one in everyday.
I like to think of myself as a shower head aficionado. Or maybe a shower head snob. I like a certain kind of shower head, and when I find one it makes me happy inside. Which kind do you speak of, do you ask (you probably didn't)? Lots and lots of thin, tiny, powerful streams . From one side of the head to the other razor sharp streams. You can keep your massaging heads with 22 different settings or your "outside ring" heads. When you stand under it, it should feel like someone leaning against you with their fist.
And maybe bees.
Where did I gain such deep knowledge of the shower vagaries? Extensive traveling and staying in countless homes and churches around the world, my friend. The most memorable, though, was in Garden City, KS. It wasn't so much a shower tub or shower stall, but rather a shower room. Just think of a high school shower room then take out all of the machismo and every shower head but one. I'm not really sure what it's purpose is, but I imagine you could slick the floor down with shampoo and make a pretty rocking tile slip n slide.
The first night we were there I took a shower (as I am apt to do). A couple of guys came in to use the restroom and I yelled to them to make sure the door latched. Why?
The opening of the shower room was immediately adjacent to the door, on the other side was the gym. Right there. Of course the door didn't get latched and if there was some mysterious indoor wind it would be flapping in the breeze like one of those old-timey saloon doors. Rather, it was just standing wide open. When the water was off, I stuck my sopping wet head around the side. I could see clearly see a game of basketball going on.
That's not really true.
I didn't have my glasses on, so people shaped blobs I assume were guys and girls were playing with a blurry orange sphere that could only be a basketball or a large grapefruit. The key detail here is that my clothes, towel, and everything were around the corner in the actual bathroom, well out of reach.
So my options were to stand there cold, wet, and naked until another guy finally decided he had to pee or make a break for it and streak.
I stood there shivering for a few minutes weighing my options. The whole time I noticed there was always someone facing my direction. If I decided to go for it, whoever the lucky person was would get a good 3-4 clear seconds of my glory.
So what did I do?
I think I made someone's day.
Thing a Day! 5ish: A Place Holder
Well. That didn't take long to get off track. I missed a couple of days for no good reason other than I was off and enjoying my leisure. I had thought about throwing a few things up (posting, that is, not vomiting) since I already have a few things finished that just need the typing treatment (I tend to write long hand and then transfer) but I think that lessons each of them to toss them around willy nilly.
So later today I will post about Pepsi.
Or Showerheads.
But for now I offer you this: there's a website called Goodreads where you make a virtual representation of your bookshelf. I did so, but have yet to touch it since. A few days ago I get an email from someone named "Aliie" saying she lives in Missouri and she wanted to know what was up. I told her what was up, as long as "up" means "I too live in Missouri." I then get a response asking how old I am and if i wanted to be her goodreads friend, which seems a bit strange, so I click over to her "page." She's 14. This was my answer, verbatim " I am 25 years old. And since you are a 14 year old girl, forgive me if I do not think we should be "friends" here."
If that was Chris Hansen, I think I passed the test.
But I doubt To Catch a Predator scours the seedy side of literature social networks.
So later today I will post about Pepsi.
Or Showerheads.
But for now I offer you this: there's a website called Goodreads where you make a virtual representation of your bookshelf. I did so, but have yet to touch it since. A few days ago I get an email from someone named "Aliie" saying she lives in Missouri and she wanted to know what was up. I told her what was up, as long as "up" means "I too live in Missouri." I then get a response asking how old I am and if i wanted to be her goodreads friend, which seems a bit strange, so I click over to her "page." She's 14. This was my answer, verbatim " I am 25 years old. And since you are a 14 year old girl, forgive me if I do not think we should be "friends" here."
If that was Chris Hansen, I think I passed the test.
But I doubt To Catch a Predator scours the seedy side of literature social networks.
3.20.2008
Thing a Day! 4: It Probably Won't Clear Up
I'm a big believer in the best gift you can give your wife (or husband, depending on your plumbing and emotional wiring) is your complete sexuality. The key aspect of this is, naturally, abstinence. I preached this as a youth pastor and I believe it in my personal life. But even if I didn't, even if I were morally okay with sleeping around. I still wouldn't. Why?
Because it's a scary world out there.
AIDS, HIV, and their friends are no laughing matter, but there's just got to be something worse brewing out there. Several decades ago no one knew about AIDS or HIV until it exploded. Just wait, this new super disease is watching and waiting. It's going to be truly nasty too.
I expect its main symptom is making the lower half of your body fall off.
Everything from your belly button down topples to the ground.
There's obviously a long incubation period, that's why we don't know about it . . . plus the person you got it from had to have time to give it to you. You're walking along several years later and
SNAP
you're standing on your torso looking in horror at your still-twitching legs lying beside you.
Imagine going to your ten year High School reunion (or 20, or 30, etc.) wheeling what's left of your body on a skateboard. You avoid stares as best as you can until you run into your old best friend. He tries to hide his shock as he asks "Dude? What happened to you?"
You point to a girl-torso hiding in the corner.
"Amber."
note: I was going to either vlog this or make an animated video to change things up, but as it were I'm temporarily without my camera and can't find my microphone to save my life. So . . . this is the transcript of what might have been.
Because it's a scary world out there.
AIDS, HIV, and their friends are no laughing matter, but there's just got to be something worse brewing out there. Several decades ago no one knew about AIDS or HIV until it exploded. Just wait, this new super disease is watching and waiting. It's going to be truly nasty too.
I expect its main symptom is making the lower half of your body fall off.
Everything from your belly button down topples to the ground.
There's obviously a long incubation period, that's why we don't know about it . . . plus the person you got it from had to have time to give it to you. You're walking along several years later and
SNAP
you're standing on your torso looking in horror at your still-twitching legs lying beside you.
Imagine going to your ten year High School reunion (or 20, or 30, etc.) wheeling what's left of your body on a skateboard. You avoid stares as best as you can until you run into your old best friend. He tries to hide his shock as he asks "Dude? What happened to you?"
You point to a girl-torso hiding in the corner.
"Amber."
note: I was going to either vlog this or make an animated video to change things up, but as it were I'm temporarily without my camera and can't find my microphone to save my life. So . . . this is the transcript of what might have been.
3.19.2008
Thing a Day! 3: I Sweded This.
One movie I was looking forward to seeing is Be Kind Rewind. I saw it about a week ago and I have to say that I enjoyed it. Despite his being over the top sometimes, I still like Jack Black. For some reason I feel an affinity with him. The movie is directed by Michel Gondry, who directed, among other things (The Science of Sleep, for one) Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind. If I were to make a list of favorite movies (which I surely have) Spotless Mind would be among those at the top ( nestled around Solaris, Dreamcatcher, and Gigli).
A bit of background on Spotless Mind: essentially people use a new technology to erase the memories of those they've loved and lost or those who've hurt them. This is not a new idea but Gondry's vision is fairly remarkable as we are dragged backwards through Jim Carrey's quickly dissolving memories of his relationship.
If I had the opportunity to take part in some sort of experimental study for this technology, I would. But I wouldn't do it to remove sad or painful memories like everyone else.
I'd erase the funny things.
What I wouldn't give to go back to the first time I saw Flight of the Conchords or Mitch Hedberg. I find that love and laughter are the sweetest things in life. Since I don't have love. . . I have laughter. There's nothing like the first time you experience something so unbelievably funny that tears run down your cheeks, your stomach cries out in pain, and you fight for breath. You return again to it and it's still funny, but the magic has lessened. There's a good thing in familiarity, but to go back to that virgin time, ah, what a magic.
A bit of background on Spotless Mind: essentially people use a new technology to erase the memories of those they've loved and lost or those who've hurt them. This is not a new idea but Gondry's vision is fairly remarkable as we are dragged backwards through Jim Carrey's quickly dissolving memories of his relationship.
If I had the opportunity to take part in some sort of experimental study for this technology, I would. But I wouldn't do it to remove sad or painful memories like everyone else.
I'd erase the funny things.
What I wouldn't give to go back to the first time I saw Flight of the Conchords or Mitch Hedberg. I find that love and laughter are the sweetest things in life. Since I don't have love. . . I have laughter. There's nothing like the first time you experience something so unbelievably funny that tears run down your cheeks, your stomach cries out in pain, and you fight for breath. You return again to it and it's still funny, but the magic has lessened. There's a good thing in familiarity, but to go back to that virgin time, ah, what a magic.
3.18.2008
Thing a Day! 2: The Killers Hermeneutics
Okay. Let's get this ball rolling. I've got things lined up for almost every day of the month. If there's anything you want to see, let me know. There's no way for me to track if anyone is reading this, so probably the best thing is for you to leave a comment, even if it's "I read this" or "I let my eyes roll lazily over this." Otherwise, I'll more than lose interest and it will never happen (see National Novel Writing Month). Also, check back regularly since there will be something new every day. Tell all your friends! Make up little stickers that say thebratch.blogspot.com and slap them on stop signs and things all over town like the cool local bands do! I tend to ramble, which results in long posts, but for this project I will do my best to follow the KISS rule (Keep It Simple Sanjaya). Hmm... I think that's all the housekeeping issues. Onward!
I love the Killers. I really do. If anybody can seamlessly transition from fake brit-pop to All-American Western-infused rock they get my vote. As I was working tonight, I stopped to actually listen to the lyrics and I realized that I have no idea what he's saying. Sure, I can understand the words, but what the crap does "I took a bullet, and I looked inside Running through my veins An American masquerade" mean?
Luckily, boys and girls, I went to college. There I studied hermeneutics . My intentions are to break down, line by line, the song "Sam's Town" and maybe together we can unlock its hidden meanings.
"Nobody ever had a dream round here"
-Okay, apparently the singer, Brandon Flowers, is upset about how his neighbors and the people around him have a complete lack of initiative. Or they're all insomniacs.
"but I don't really mind that it's starting to get to me"
- He is acknowledging the fact that everyone's apathy bugs him.
"Nobody ever pulls the seams round here"
- It's not very well known that "pulls the seams" is a phrase that is similar to "does a good job" or "excels at what they do" or "usually doesn't drool on self."
"but I don't really mind that it's starting to get to me"
-Brandon's okay with being surrounded by jackasses.
"I've got this energy beneath my feet"
- Okay, maybe this explains why everyone's wearing knickers on their heads: they're living by a nuclear power plant, most likely exploded Chernobyl-style.
"like something underground's gonna come up and carry me"
- Ah! Brandon Flowers is also a fan of the movie Tremors! His daydreams of fighting desert worms alongside Kevin Bacon certainly get him through the hum drum of every day.
"I've got this sentimental heart that beats"
- He makes a point to mention that his heart beats, so this is obviously something that has come into contention. It would seem that the oafs around him have mistaken him for a zombie. Truly tragic.
"but I don't really mind that it's starting to get to me"
- His heart is "starting to get to him." I think this might mean he was born with some some of congenital heart problem. It is getting worse, how terrible! To make it worse, what life he has to live is lived amongst mutant blockheads.
"Now why do you waste my time?"
- This makes sense, considering the last line. Remember, boys and girls, it's all about context. Brandon is frustrated that we are taking up his time. This makes sense given his situation but is still a bit rude.
"Is the answer to the question on your mind"
- This half statement/half question is obviously Brandon's attempt at confusing us in hopes that we'd get so wrapped up in the riddle he'd be able to slip off to the side and leave our pathetic selves in a logic prison.
"And I'm sick of all my judges"
- Despite his bad heart, Brandon Flowers has done something naughty and found himself before a jury of his peers. Since he's still able to walk around, one can assume that he is simply on probation. This must make touring difficult.
"so scared of what they'll find"
- Brandon! Didn't you learn the first time? You're on parole, and if you screw this one up, they'll lock you up for a long time.
"But I know that I can make it"
- Our first positive comment from Mr. Flowers. He aspires to leave the mouth-breathers behind him. Let's hope the skeletons in his closet don't find him out.
"As long as somebody takes me home every now and then"
- Like every good Anglophile/Las Vegasian, Brandon is fond of the drink. When he's had too much, he does the responsible thing and takes a cab home.
"Oh, have you ever seen the lights?"
- This is obviously the tequila talking. Pay no attention to this.
"Have you ever seen the lights?"
- Brandon stutters.
"I took the shuttle on a shock-wave ride,
where the people on the pen pull the trigger for accolade
I took a bullet, and I looked inside"
- You know what. . . this is ridiculous. Either Brandon Flowers eats a lot, a lot of prescription medicines or he writes using a door covered in nouns, adjectives, and verbs, with a handful of darts.
I love the Killers. I really do. If anybody can seamlessly transition from fake brit-pop to All-American Western-infused rock they get my vote. As I was working tonight, I stopped to actually listen to the lyrics and I realized that I have no idea what he's saying. Sure, I can understand the words, but what the crap does "I took a bullet, and I looked inside Running through my veins An American masquerade" mean?
Luckily, boys and girls, I went to college. There I studied hermeneutics . My intentions are to break down, line by line, the song "Sam's Town" and maybe together we can unlock its hidden meanings.
"Nobody ever had a dream round here"
-Okay, apparently the singer, Brandon Flowers, is upset about how his neighbors and the people around him have a complete lack of initiative. Or they're all insomniacs.
"but I don't really mind that it's starting to get to me"
- He is acknowledging the fact that everyone's apathy bugs him.
"Nobody ever pulls the seams round here"
- It's not very well known that "pulls the seams" is a phrase that is similar to "does a good job" or "excels at what they do" or "usually doesn't drool on self."
"but I don't really mind that it's starting to get to me"
-Brandon's okay with being surrounded by jackasses.
"I've got this energy beneath my feet"
- Okay, maybe this explains why everyone's wearing knickers on their heads: they're living by a nuclear power plant, most likely exploded Chernobyl-style.
"like something underground's gonna come up and carry me"
- Ah! Brandon Flowers is also a fan of the movie Tremors! His daydreams of fighting desert worms alongside Kevin Bacon certainly get him through the hum drum of every day.
"I've got this sentimental heart that beats"
- He makes a point to mention that his heart beats, so this is obviously something that has come into contention. It would seem that the oafs around him have mistaken him for a zombie. Truly tragic.
"but I don't really mind that it's starting to get to me"
- His heart is "starting to get to him." I think this might mean he was born with some some of congenital heart problem. It is getting worse, how terrible! To make it worse, what life he has to live is lived amongst mutant blockheads.
"Now why do you waste my time?"
- This makes sense, considering the last line. Remember, boys and girls, it's all about context. Brandon is frustrated that we are taking up his time. This makes sense given his situation but is still a bit rude.
"Is the answer to the question on your mind"
- This half statement/half question is obviously Brandon's attempt at confusing us in hopes that we'd get so wrapped up in the riddle he'd be able to slip off to the side and leave our pathetic selves in a logic prison.
"And I'm sick of all my judges"
- Despite his bad heart, Brandon Flowers has done something naughty and found himself before a jury of his peers. Since he's still able to walk around, one can assume that he is simply on probation. This must make touring difficult.
"so scared of what they'll find"
- Brandon! Didn't you learn the first time? You're on parole, and if you screw this one up, they'll lock you up for a long time.
"But I know that I can make it"
- Our first positive comment from Mr. Flowers. He aspires to leave the mouth-breathers behind him. Let's hope the skeletons in his closet don't find him out.
"As long as somebody takes me home every now and then"
- Like every good Anglophile/Las Vegasian, Brandon is fond of the drink. When he's had too much, he does the responsible thing and takes a cab home.
"Oh, have you ever seen the lights?"
- This is obviously the tequila talking. Pay no attention to this.
"Have you ever seen the lights?"
- Brandon stutters.
"I took the shuttle on a shock-wave ride,
where the people on the pen pull the trigger for accolade
I took a bullet, and I looked inside"
- You know what. . . this is ridiculous. Either Brandon Flowers eats a lot, a lot of prescription medicines or he writes using a door covered in nouns, adjectives, and verbs, with a handful of darts.
3.17.2008
Thing a Day! 1: The Nerdiness Continues
In light of the momentousness of today, I am gifting myself something that I am sure I will regret: work. Almost anybody that's into gaming or nerd rock knows the name Jonathan Coulton. A year or so ago (I suppose longer, given the nature of what I'm about to talk about) Coulton came up with an idea to do a song every week for a year and post it as a podcast and on his website. Most of them are very funny and all are very well done. This has inspired me to do something similar, albeit much smaller in scale. I present:
THING A DAY! from Bratcher Lev
Every day for a month I will post. Something. It may be funny. It may be depressing. It may be a recipe (there's nothing sexier than a man who cooks [eh, ladies?]). It may be a shopping list. It may be The Idiot by Dostoevsky copied word for word. But it will be something.
Thing a Day! 1: The Nerdiness Continues
Like most guys, I like star wars. I like it a lot. It's got a great, expansive story and the movies are a blast to watch. It only goes so far though. I'm not like some of those people. You know who I am talking about. Dressing up and totally geeking out is fine if you're into that; it's just a little much for me.
I was, however, surfing along and read about a book called Deathstar, or something similar. In it, the authors talk about the inner workings of the Deathstar (the moon-sized space station that housed a laser strong enough to destroy a planet). A figure was dropped that about a million people worked on the Deathstar at any given time.
So let's take a step back and look at what this means.
In the first movie, Luke blows up the Deathstar.
Luke Skywalker murders a million people.
Now, the Deathstar was a military installation, so many of the casualties were soldiers, but a station that large would have entertainers, merchants, etc. contracted out to fill the needs of those who work there. Those people had nothing to do with blowing up the planet of Alderaan. They just worked there.
Also, my good friend Barrett, like everyone else, is getting married soon, and I am one of his groomsman. The other day he called me up to ask me what my favorite color was. When I said burgundy, I could tell that wasn't the answer he was looking for. After a short line of questioning, I found out that instead of engraved pocket watches that would be thrown in a drawer never to be seen again, he'd make us all lightsabers. I did mention that Barrett makes lightsabers, right? He does, or at least he has, and to be honest, holding one is pretty impressive.
So we will all have lightsabers, and I am truly excited.
I hope they will walk down the aisle underneath our raised lightsabers.
THING A DAY! from Bratcher Lev
Every day for a month I will post. Something. It may be funny. It may be depressing. It may be a recipe (there's nothing sexier than a man who cooks [eh, ladies?]). It may be a shopping list. It may be The Idiot by Dostoevsky copied word for word. But it will be something.
Thing a Day! 1: The Nerdiness Continues
Like most guys, I like star wars. I like it a lot. It's got a great, expansive story and the movies are a blast to watch. It only goes so far though. I'm not like some of those people. You know who I am talking about. Dressing up and totally geeking out is fine if you're into that; it's just a little much for me.
I was, however, surfing along and read about a book called Deathstar, or something similar. In it, the authors talk about the inner workings of the Deathstar (the moon-sized space station that housed a laser strong enough to destroy a planet). A figure was dropped that about a million people worked on the Deathstar at any given time.
So let's take a step back and look at what this means.
In the first movie, Luke blows up the Deathstar.
Luke Skywalker murders a million people.
Now, the Deathstar was a military installation, so many of the casualties were soldiers, but a station that large would have entertainers, merchants, etc. contracted out to fill the needs of those who work there. Those people had nothing to do with blowing up the planet of Alderaan. They just worked there.
Also, my good friend Barrett, like everyone else, is getting married soon, and I am one of his groomsman. The other day he called me up to ask me what my favorite color was. When I said burgundy, I could tell that wasn't the answer he was looking for. After a short line of questioning, I found out that instead of engraved pocket watches that would be thrown in a drawer never to be seen again, he'd make us all lightsabers. I did mention that Barrett makes lightsabers, right? He does, or at least he has, and to be honest, holding one is pretty impressive.
So we will all have lightsabers, and I am truly excited.
I hope they will walk down the aisle underneath our raised lightsabers.
2.08.2008
2.05.2008
Wizard People, Dear Readers
Okay, the post I've been working on(the one announced) is still in the works. Let's be honest, though, I haven't done this in a while so it's not flowing quite as easily as usual. But I offer this in the meantime:
There once was a man named Brad Neely. The story goes something like this. . . if I remember it correctly. Brad and a friend were playing pool when they noticed a nerdy guy wearing headphones playing alone. They discussed at length about what he could possibly be listening to. Eventually, they came to the conclusion that it was Harry Potter and the Sorcerer's Stone on tape.
Mr. Neely has made several web cartoons and is well known in several circles. When he decided that he would give his own Harry Potter audio book a shot, it wasn't far from what he was used to. The result is Wizard People, Dear Readers. It works as an alternate audio to the Sorcerer's Stone DVD. The "chapters" of the "book" correlate to the chapters on the DVD which makes reviewing a particularly favorite part or taking it in during multiple sittings very easy. It had a successful tour at indie film theaters but was stopped due to alleged copyright violations. My personal opinion is that it is parody at it finest, an homage as opposed to taking advantage of the source material.
But lucky for you, dear readers, it is available for free on the intertubes if you look hard enough. (I feel the need to mention that I did not upload these. . . I simply found them and linked to them)
PART 1
PART 2
INSTRUCTIONS: Pop the DVD in, press play, turn the volume all the way down, and play the audio AS SOON AS IT STARTS (You'll know it's synced when you hear and see "PRIVET DRIVE").It syncs nicely.
Please, please take two hours out of your day and listen to/watch this. It is a gem that truly needs to be shared.
There once was a man named Brad Neely. The story goes something like this. . . if I remember it correctly. Brad and a friend were playing pool when they noticed a nerdy guy wearing headphones playing alone. They discussed at length about what he could possibly be listening to. Eventually, they came to the conclusion that it was Harry Potter and the Sorcerer's Stone on tape.
Mr. Neely has made several web cartoons and is well known in several circles. When he decided that he would give his own Harry Potter audio book a shot, it wasn't far from what he was used to. The result is Wizard People, Dear Readers. It works as an alternate audio to the Sorcerer's Stone DVD. The "chapters" of the "book" correlate to the chapters on the DVD which makes reviewing a particularly favorite part or taking it in during multiple sittings very easy. It had a successful tour at indie film theaters but was stopped due to alleged copyright violations. My personal opinion is that it is parody at it finest, an homage as opposed to taking advantage of the source material.
But lucky for you, dear readers, it is available for free on the intertubes if you look hard enough. (I feel the need to mention that I did not upload these. . . I simply found them and linked to them)
PART 1
PART 2
INSTRUCTIONS: Pop the DVD in, press play, turn the volume all the way down, and play the audio AS SOON AS IT STARTS (You'll know it's synced when you hear and see "PRIVET DRIVE").It syncs nicely.
Please, please take two hours out of your day and listen to/watch this. It is a gem that truly needs to be shared.