drawing bright lines in the sand

Just a Reminder:

2009-07-14T08:44:00.001-07:00

The places to go are

http://www.facebook.com/brianbreed
http://www.twitter.com/brianbreed
http://www.themilieu.com

Lessons Learned in Vegas: Part 1

2006-06-26T12:50:00.000-07:00

1. It's hotter at 5pm than it is at 12pm.

2. You will see many asses. There is no avoiding asses in Las Vegas. In fact, Las Vegas loosely translates to "The Asses" in Spanish.

3. The Union looks mostly harmless, but is in fact big and scary.

4. Union workers look big and scary, but are in fact mostly harmless.

5. All casinos are the same.

6. If you're short-stacked. never take your 8/10 suited against the biggest stack, even when you have a great flop. He will get the King he needs on the River.

7. Addicts are literally plugged into the slot machines.

8. A job that appears small will turn out big. A job that appear big will turn out bigger.

[stay tuned for more]
-brian

How To: Meet A Celebrity

2006-06-15T00:51:00.000-07:00

We like celebrities. We do. But we don't know how to treat them right.

People do very strange things when they meet celebrities. It doesn't matter who the person is, or who the celebrity is. Almost universally, "fans" (conceptual or otherwise) act different around the famous. There are three basic responses.

A: The Scathing Amateur Critic
Some people, whether they dislike the actor, they don't know how to be nice, or (more likely) because they want to feel superior choose to debase the actor. These proud few insult the actor's choices in films, demean his talents as a performing artist, insinuate that his parents were never married, and suggest that a dog, a pile of feces, or (on the same level) even they could act better than the actor.

B: The "HeyYou'reLikeMe(BeMyFriendPleaseSoThenICanTellPeopleIKnowYou[AndCanValidateMyOwnSelf{WorthByPretendingToRespectYours)]}" Coolheaded Patron of the Arts
This person may or may not like the actor whom he meets, but will nonetheless instantly become self-assured and sympathetic upon meeting the celebrity. He'll say things like, "Hey man, I like your work," or "What's up?" or even offer a simple "Yo's." This fan's actions intone that he sees the celebrity as a real person, not just as a Hollywood prop. But what this guy really wants is to be invited to the next big Hollywood shindig. He replaces one type of objectification (namely, seeing an actor as a prop) for another (that is, seeing the actor as a golden ticket).

He almost never gets his wish.

C: The Choir
I call the third group the choir for two reasons: (1) they are the majority of the fan base, and (2) they can't stop praising the actor. They often scream, say things like "I can't believe it's [THAT CELEBRITY I LOVE]," or "SIGN MY BREASTS!" As you can guess, they're more often female than male. I don't know why this is. It's probably because guys think they win points by "being cool."

By the way, they don't.

Real Life
So the other day, when I met Johnny Knoxville, I saw this principle in action.

The scene: my coworkers and I are in a box truck on the Paramount Studios lot. We are waiting to set expensive drape for a camera show, wherein a popular company will peddle their wares to the cinematography departments at Paramount. We are waiting to receive our security badges while a drug dog sniffs our equipment (I guess they don't have one of those at the celebrity parking lots… ZING).

I see a man wearing a button-down Budweiser shirt. I note his spiky hair, lanky build, and aviator sunglasses. I ask a coworker… "Is that Johnny Knoxville?"

My coworker says, "Holy shit… that is Johnny Knoxville!"

He proceeds to go C on Johnny. He yells "Johnny! JOHNNY! YO JOHNNY! I LOVE YOU MAN!"

Johnny waves and smiles politely.

The other worker in the truck leans out the window and says, "What's up John-eeee!" pretending to be familiar with the guy. We see B in action here.

I feel compelled to do something. Now, I'm not a huge fan of Johnny's Knoxville's work, but I'm not the kind of guy to go depreciating the actor for what he does. After all, he's taken softballs to the groin from pro pitchers before. I mean, that takes some kind of talent.

So A is out of the options for me. B would be a lie (I don't know him, and I know I'm not cool), and C just demeans us all. So I go for the secret option:

D: The Tautologizer
Tautologizers do exactly what they sound like: they state an obvious truth as if it were a point in question.

I say (in my most sympathetic and reassuring voice): "Johnny! Hey! You have fans Johnny! Fans!"

This, by a surprising stroke of fortune, makes Johnny laugh and walk over to our box truck and give us all the knuckle. "Hey guys," he says, "thanks for supporting me."

After that, I act B on the outside, but I am all C on the inside.

[I love you JOHNNY!]
-brian

a great quotation

2006-06-10T17:25:00.000-07:00

'The only true currency in this bankrupt world is what you share with someone when you're uncool."

-Lester Bangs, Almost Famous

[that's that]
-brian

How To Have An Adventure #47: In Los Angeles

2006-06-04T02:16:00.000-07:00

1. Acquire a group of friends.
2. Find a free Saturday.
3. Plan the night before to go to a hip Hollywood restaurant for breakfast.
4. Set the meeting time at 10:30 a.m.
5. Proceed to stay up until 5:00 a.m.
6. Wake up at 10:00 a.m.
7. Skip the shower. You smell fresh already!
8. Arrive at your friends' house.
9. Drive towards LA.
10. Get stuck in world-famous LA traffic.
11. Get lost on world-famous LA streets.
12. Arrive at hip Hollywood restaurant in time for lunch.
13. Mock the pretentious snoblets.
14. Eat your sandwich and savor its taste.
15. Get up to go (after paying your check).
16. Go outside.
17. Notice that your car is about to be up on a tow truck.
18. Plead with the man to lower your vehicle.
19. Listen to him charge you $150 for the back-breaking task of lowering the car's front wheels back to the ground.
20. Say something about extortion as you begrudgingly pay him.
21. Get a call.
22. Learn that your house has been robbed.
23. See a pattern here.

[miffed out]
-brian

IKEA is Scandanavian for EVIL

2006-05-30T02:21:00.000-07:00

My friend Tim picked up a "build your own chair set" from IKEA today.

"How much did the chair cost, bud?" I said.

"Oh, not too much. Only fifty for the chair and thirty for the footstool."

It took a moment for those numbers to set in.

"How much?" I said.

"Only eighty dollars for the pair!" Tim said with pride.

I was left stupefied. How is eighty dollars a good deal for a chair and footstool? A chair and a footstool that you have to build?

"That sounds expensive, Tim," I said.

"It's not," he reassured me. "Now help me build it!"

I looked at the design and thought to myself, "Boy, this looks really simplistic for eighty bucks." But, being a good friend, I lent Tim my masculine prowess and went to it.

It was great. The building of the chair took about fifteen minutes, and the accompanying footstool took only ten. I looked (and tried out) the finished product, and realized how comfortable and sleek it was.

I had been wrong before. IKEA’s furniture isn’t "simplistic"—it’s "minimalist." And "minimalist" is okay. It means that the thing is straightforward and functional, not flashy and annoying. Plus, I enjoyed building the chair. It was fun. And the finished product was really nice.

It's odd how IKEA indulges the masculine impulses to build and use tools, and yet bends them towards creating something stylish. With products from IKEA, strength really meets taste. And for only eighty bucks? Suddenly the numbers didn't sound so high.

"I could get used to this," I said to Tim.

"The chair?" he replied.

"Well, yeah, but also building my own good-looking stuff."

"Yeah," Tim said. "I love IKEA."

I loved IKEA too. For a moment.

But that moment passed, and with it went my newfound affection for the Swedish furniture people. I was walking out of the room when it hit me.

IKEA was evil.

They're vice peddlers. Think about it: the first hit of heroine is always free. Why? Because the dealer knows that the buyer will come back for more. You're hooked after one taste. IKEA's the same way. "I'll just get one chair," you think. But you end up coming home with a chair, a footstool, a bed frame, and a bookshelf. Not because you need them, but because you feel good when you finish making them.

It's evil. It's insidious. It's… a damn genius marketing strategy. That's what it is.

IKEA is a horrible company.

And yet so good… so very good. Um… I've got to go. I think I'm just going to look at the IKEA website… just to see if my suspicions are correct, of course. Research. You know.

[where's my VISA?]
-brian

text size = too big

2006-05-27T21:14:00.000-07:00

Today I was on my parents' computer, reading a paper I wrote, and just felt like something was wrong with it. I got to this passage:

"What, though, is reader-response criticism? The question requires no short answer. Reader-response criticism is the academic explanation of what we do every time we take up a book for leisure reading: it is an investigation of what actually happens¾not what might, ought to, or could occur in a reader. Reader-response is a loose affiliation of theorists around one key belief¾'The reader is a major player in the making of a text.'"

If you didn't read that [and I wouldn't blame you], it was a brief introduction to reader-response theory criticism. I honestly think it's a well-composed paragraph. I use just the right number of big words to make it look smart, and just enough small ones to make it look friendly. Smart and friendly. Yay!

But it looked dumb and silly to me when I was reading it. Now, on my [now broken] laptop, the text looked just fine. So I knew it wasn't the text itself. I checked my parents' word processor settings, and I noticed what it was:

My parents have the text magnification set to a ridiculous level. Read the paragraph again like this...

"What, though, is reader-response criticism? The question requires no short answer. Reader-response criticism is the academic explanation of what we do every time we take up a book for leisure reading: it is an investigation of what actually happens, and not what might, ought to, or could occur in a reader. Reader-response is a loose affiliation of theorists around one key belief: 'The reader is a major player in the making of a text.'"

The point being, the bigger the text size, the more stupid whatever you have to say looks.

[consider and grow.]
-brian

fortune cookies are fun again

2006-05-23T22:47:00.000-07:00

Okay, nobody really believes that authentic Chinese fortune cookies are Chinese cookies containing authentic fortunes. But we all open them up and wonder what the fortunes will say anyway. But often they're just dumb: sayings like "Lend a hand to someone less fortunate than yourself." Blah. Boring. I'm not consulting cookies to hear proverbs. I'm looking to be entertained and, perhaps, enlightened.

I don't know about the second part, but my friends taught me a game a few years back which has greatly maginified the fun factor of fortune cookies. It's called "in bed." For those of you who haven't heard of this, "in bed's" rules are simple: add "in bed" to the most appropriate (read: hilarious) part of the fortune. So, a boring fortune like "Lend a hand to someone less fortune than yourself" becomes about a thousand times more interesting when it reads "Lend a hand to someone less fortunate than yourself in bed."

Anyway, I so love this game that I actually keep the best fortunes on me at all times: they're in a special pocket of my wallet. So, without further ado, here are my best (actually discovered) fortunes:

10. "Lend a hand to someone less fortunate than yourself in bed."
09. "Be daring, try something new in bed."
08. "Your talents in bed will capture you the highest status and prestige."
07. "With integrity and consistency, your credits in bed are piling up."
06. "Versatility in bed is one of your outstanding traits."
05. "You create enthusiasm around you in bed."
04. "You will be successful in bed through innovation and determination."
03. "A great pleasure in life is doing what others say you can't in bed."
02. "If you continually give, you will continually have in bed."

And, my favorite, la piece de resistance...
01. "If you can befriend yourself, you'll never be lonely in bed."

[suddenly hoping fortunes do come true]
-brian

five funny things from this week.

2006-05-23T03:04:00.000-07:00

1. "Can we make this quick? I left my daughter and three dogs in the car."
--A woman at Coco's speaking to her realtor.

2. Bottled water has an expiration date. How the hell does water go bad?

3. A friend of mine was joking around about white supremecy. I pointed out that he had a shaved head, wore a leather jacket, and had a superman shirt on.

4. The funniest combination of sounds in the english language (divorced from meaning) is "semiotic poopjoint."

5. "I like me a lot more when I'm unconscious at night."
--Me, epiphonizing.

[a good week]
-brian

how to ruin your day #17

2006-05-22T01:39:00.000-07:00

1. wake up and go to church.
2. volunteer to record the service.
3. realize you don't know what you're doing.
4. manage to record the service anyway.
5. sing as you get in your car.
6. play one of your favorite cds as you drive home.
7. take a nap when you get there.
8. get up and go get a nice, footlong sub for dinner.
9. dress up.
10. go to a really good play.
11. mingle with the cast and listen to them say neat things about you.
12. sing a jingle or two on your way back, like "eight-hundred five eight eight two-three-hundred, EMPIRE!"
13. add the finishing touches to a one act play that you have spent 50 hours writing.
14. save.
15. stand up.
16. remember your laptop.
17. think, "oh gosh, it would be horrible if i dropped this right now!"
18. drop "this" right now, where "this" is any laptop containing YOUR WHOLE F'ING LIFE.
19. try to catch it, only to ensure that it lands flat, but hard.
20. look at it.
21. realize that it's not "alive," where "alive" is any condition other than "dead."
22. try to turn it on.
23. hear very distressing buzzing noises.
24. receive false hope when the apple logo and the spinning wheel appear.
25. receive even MORE false hope when the computer shows the "starting mac os x" panel.
26. wait twenty minutes, checking every ten seconds to see if it starts working.
27. wait twenty more minutes.
28. watch the bar fill!
29. watch the bar remain full!
30. watch the bar do nothing!
31. turn off computer.
32. reboot.
33. instead of an apple logo, see a crossed-out circle.
34. pray.
35. go to sleep.

[groans all around on me!]
-brian

things never said.

2006-05-19T17:19:00.000-07:00

I talk. A lot. And I say a good deal of the things on my mind. But lest people should think I have absolutely no discretion, I am about to prove them wrong.

There was a girl. Her name was "Gingersnap." It wasn't really. But [as I've done before] I call her "Gingersnap" just so you won't ever confuse her pseudonym with the Gingersnap you know. So... if you know a Gingersnap, change her name to "Cinnamon Teardrop." And if you know a "Cinnamon Teardrop..." I dunno, just do whatever the hell you gotta do to understand that you don't know who I'm talking about.

backstory:
[I met Gingersnap at a favorite restaurant a few years back. We became friends and talked from time to time. Eventually I asked her out on a date. So Gingersnap and I went out once about a year ago. Why only once?

Well, shortly after, I asked her out a second time, and she said yes. She told me to pick her up from her house. But when I drove over see her, she wasn't there. So I knock on the door, her mom answered, and said that she didn't think Gingersnap was expecting anyone.

I called Gingersnap, and she said she was on the freeway and would call me when she got back. She didn't that night.

Or ever again.]

That sets the stage for the following events.

Today my best friend and I go to aforementioned family favorite restaurant where Gingersnap works. She's on the clock. She tries to avoid me, but is apparently told by her boss that customers have to be served. So she comes us and feigns surprise at seeing us. "Brian, hey!" she starts. "I haven't seen you in, like, forever!"

There is so much I want to say.

Considered responses:
-Not since you stood me up.
-That's what happens when you intentionally avoid me.
-Your plan worked!

Actual response: "No, you haven't."

Later on in the conversation, I ask how life is going.

"Pretty well," she replies, "but I feel like I'm stuck in a rut."

Considered responses:
-You look like it too.
-You are.

Actual response: "I'm sorry to hear that."

The food comes, Nick and I eat. We overhear an elderly woman say to a consultant: "Can we make this quick? I have my daughter and three dogs in the car."

We laugh, and imagine all the ways that could be construed. I can't help imagining a newborn surrounded by two unfriendly rottweilers and a pug. Anyway, Gingersnap returns to give us our check. We chat again for a bit.

Finally, she says, "Gosh, I've been 20 forever."

Considered responses:
No more than 365 days.

Actual response:
"No more than 365 days."

...

Oh well. I guess nobody's completely tactful. Least of all me.

But I can keep things to myself.

[peace out]
-brian

post-script: it just occurred to me that i may have kept it to myself then, but i didn't now. but that doesn't change the fact that i have... a head.

insomnia in stock now!

2006-05-16T04:03:00.000-07:00

at 4, i'm still up. very awake.

i don't have homework. i'm not watching a movie. i'm... this is going to sound weird... afraid of my bed.

about a week ago, i was supposed to go to sleep, but i had drunk 64 ounces of diet coke at denny's and just couldn't. so i stayed up until 7 playing smash bros. melee with my roommates. yes, this is extremely irresponsible, but shut up, i was perked. needless to say, when we were done playing, i crashed. and hard.

but since then, my sleep schedule has been comepletely f'ed. (by the way, "f'd" stands for "frustrated." just in case you were wondering.) the next night i went to bed at 6, then it was 4, then 5, then 3, then 6, then 4 again.

this doesn't explain why i'm afraid of my bed. in truth, i don't know if i can explain it well enough to satisfy a person's insatiable curiosity about my various [ridiculous] neuroses. but i will try.. take this account for what it is.

so after staying up 'til 7, when i went to bed my body felt very... weird. heavy in spots, twitchy in others. it was unsettling. i mean, if you can't feel rested after staying up for twenty hours straight, hopped up on diet coke, then when can you?

since then, i've just been... i dunno... uneasy about my bed. i feel great in the rest of my house, but whenever i lie down, i kind of tense up. i wish this wasn't the case, because being tense before trying to go to bed is a recipe for insomnia. which, if you have read thus far, i've been enjoying lately.

it would be nice to just fall asleep. i'd appreciate me a lot more if i was unconscious for the night.

-brian

2006-05-16T03:55:00.000-07:00

I know I haven't been very good at keeping this blog updated. But I have a good reason.

Well, actually, I don't. But I don't need one. A blog is a voluntary thing, right?

I think I'm supposed to say "Yes!" to that, but in reality, I feel a sort of obligation to write more regularly than I have. If not for your enjoyment, then for my own retro-spection.

About once every week or two, I look at my old blog posts from the previous year(s). This is a sort of ritual for me, a touching-base with my own past to get an idea where I am, and where I've come from. But if you look at my blog, it isn't "Dear Diary" crap that I'm talking about. Sometimes it's theological or philosophical musings, sure, but more frequently it's this or that funny experience that lets me reminisce. Besides which, I feel the need to "tell" about the humorous.

So what does the notable absence of posts suggest? I guess there's a few options.... funny things are happening to me less, I'm finding some other outlet to tell those stories, or I've forgotten how to tell about the funny things that happen. I'd say that maybe I've lost my sense of humor, but my friends would mock me incessantly.

Why am I telling you this? I don't know. I don't really care if anyone reads this, either. I just needed to tell it. Maybe in saying something about my writer's block I can at least chip away at it.

-brian

pug dealings.

2006-05-10T01:18:00.000-07:00

There is the matter of Patrick the pug.

Patrick is a six-year old dog who lives with some of my good friends. He is brown, and ugly. His eyes almost always have dollops of yellow mucous on them, and his ears perpetually smell. It is a strain for him to climb onto the couches, and he steals your seat when you get up because—hey—your ass is somewhat like a couch cushion heater.

The other night I visited these girls. I went over there to do homework, actually, but ended up watching video clips on the internet for about three hours instead. When I got worn out, I stretched out on a couch to rest my weary eyes.

I heard wheezing, so I opened my eyes. The wheezing was coming from the ugly, yellow-dollop-eyed, brown pug. He was on the floor looking up at me as though tired.

"Hey Patrick," I said.

He licked his feet in response.

"Do you want to come up?"

He looked at me, and turned his head to the side as if to say, "Words mean so little to me."

So I patted the couch cushion in what I hoped was an inquisitive way. But it might have been imperative. I'll never know, because I can't talk to dogs. Whatever the case may be, he wheezed much harder as he tried unsuccessfully twice to make it up onto the couch.

Then he gave me a look which might have been inquisitive or imperative. I don't know exactly what happened, but I got the impression that I should help him out. So I picked him up.

He settled on my chest, facing me for a second. I stared past his dollops of mucous, and I think we had a master/pet moment.

Then he turned around, settled his ass directly in front of my nose, and passed doggy gas. Promptly thereafter he fell asleep.

There was no guessing after what I smelled: the meaningful look in his eyes was not inquisitive, or imperative, but simply indigestive.

But I love him nonetheless. At least he's cleverer than this parrot.

[what's that—oh, PATRICK!!!]
brian

choose your own adventure: part 1

2006-04-05T02:14:00.000-07:00

I went through a phase when I read Choose Your Own Adventure books as a diversion. In case you're not familiar with the concept, Choose Your Own Adventures were sort of like paper-bound role-playing games. You assumed the identity of the protagonist in one of the stories, and were called upon to make important decisions at different junctures in the text. Depending upon what action you took, you faced a new gamut of decisions ad nauseum. Eventually you were called to make one final decision, and you would arrive at one of many different endings.

Choose Your Own Adventures were cool for many reasons. I got to take control of the narrative. My role as the reader was very important. If I did not make the right decisions, the world might be taken over by Nazi Germany or Kelbatron and his dark robots from Olbakrine Theta! Adventure called—and I accepted the charges.

Destiny was in my hands.

At least, I thought so. But the damn books never worked right for me. I would go through once and get an ending—often the one I didn't want. Choose Your Own Adventures were designed to cultivate critical thinking skills—if you arrived at the wrong ending, you needed to retrace your steps and find out what error you made. But for me, this was always an exercise in futility. Kelbatron would win, so I'd retrace my steps and find a juncture like this:

"You see a bright silver disk descend from the upper atmosphere and hover over the earth. Your heart beats faster, and you feel torn between two forces: curiosity and fear of the unknown. What do you do?

If you approach the silver disk, turn to page 43.
If you run away and examine the scene from a safe distance, turn to page 92."

The first time, I'd turn to page 43 because—hell—the disk took the time to travel all the way through the upper atmosphere. Someone's got to greet the occupants! I'm a curious cat.

So I'd turn to the appropriate page and meet this:

"The flying disk turns bright red as you approach. It begins to spin faster and move towards you. What do you do?

If you stand still and see what happens, turn to page 15.
If you break into a run and fly in the opposite direction, turn to page 77."

And—again, being a curious cat—I'd inevitably choose to stand still and see what happens. The disk responded to my presence, didn't it? I was getting an answer from something new!

So, on to page 15, where:

"The spinning red disk flies through your neck and severs your head from your shoulders. You die and Kalbatron takes over the world.

You should have run away."

Utterly defeated, I would restart. And I was determined to change my future!

So I'd get to the first decision, and struggle with it, and eventually say to myself: "Oh, it can't be all that bad to approach the disk again. Who knows what will happen?"

To page 43, and the second crisis.

And when I considered what I'd do, again I would wait and see what happened. In real life, I'd be just as ignorant as the first time through. So I turn to page 15 and get my head chopped off. So I'd use an expletive and turn to the beginning and try again.

But I just can't help it—I know what I'd do. In real life, I'd go towards the saucer, wait while it changed color, and stand idly by while it chopped off my head. I just would. That's the kind of guy I am. I really stand by my convictions.

And get my head chopped off again and again.

[crap]
brian

befuddled

2006-03-25T15:21:00.000-08:00

the funny truth is, more people come to my page to stop sweetgum fruit more than anything else.

-brian

I'm starting up...

2006-03-22T14:41:00.000-08:00

perkleate again. that's where i'll post lyrics, poems, quotations, and brief reviews of art that really moves me. go there.

[so]
-brian

these days

2006-03-16T01:16:00.000-08:00

-"These are my best pants!" Tim said. And then he just threw here pen away.

-Passing... We are all passing.

-Critical theorist Walter Benjamin intrigues me. He makes the following argument: industry, its reproduction of artistic works, and its medium of film, have had a profound effect on "art and its traditional form." Through reproduction, art has become widely available at the expense of authority (uniqueness of substance) and venue (uniqueness of location). Art reproduced ad nauseum loses its "aura"—the perceived distance between the object and the viewer, a certain respect for the "otherness" of the object—in the viewer's mind. This aura is sacrificed for the sake of an ever-expanding "sense of the universal equality of things."

-Has art really lost its aura? Or did it just go somewhere else?

-The last two thoughts were probably not interesting to anyone else.

-"the distance between
thinking and perceiving
grows with every
passing evening"

-Some people become less talkative as soon as they enter a classroom, and more talkative once they leave. But I've never met a person who works the other way around.

-Maybe we have celebrities so that we can find a release for our bad impulses. They really are a bunch of assholes, taken as a whole. Seriously.

-"the distance would grow
more grieviously
if not for more of you
and less of me"

-Someone had a thought project: "Imagine if there was an experience machine which you could plug into. You could program it to give you whatever set of experiences you would like: as much pleasure, as little pain, whatever God, society, etc. you desire. As soon as you were plugged in, you would forget that you were ever a part of any other world. Now would you choose to live in a fabricated reality that felt every bit as real (and much better) than 'real' reality?"

-I would never choose the experience machine. I am not God, and don't want to be a god of my own privately-defined reality'. The losses would be too great. I would lose reality for illusion, my friends for friends', my God for God'. My world, for world'... I live too much in world' already without the interference of an experience machine.

-Give me truth, and I will see.

-Tomorrow is today. Tomorrow is a big day. Today is that big day.

-It is good to be here.

[well. yeah.]
-brian

lull

2006-03-03T16:07:00.000-08:00

it's hard to blog when you say everything you want to say to people...

i said something funny the other day:

[watching jeremy play a video game]
brian: what game are you playing?
jer: need for speed undergound 2.
brian: you're not doing very well.
jer: nope.
brian: can i try?
jer: sure.
brian: [time passes] i suck at this. [drops the controller]
jer: at least i finished the race!
bri: at least i know when to quit.

[ouch]
-brian

guppy

2006-02-19T20:01:00.000-08:00

I played Scrabble(tm) with my best friend tonight. Usually, by the third round, he's kicking my ass so hard that I swear that I'll never use words again. But inevitably I break that vow when I tell him what he's done to me.

Why would I do such a stupid thing? Because (for whatever reason) Nick gets:
a. all the good letters
b. all the good bonus tiles
c. random letter combos that just happen to make words (gaby, anyone?)
d. all of the above.

and that flusters me. Me, the English major, lose to Nick!

...

See? Even thinking about Nick's little victories breaks my syntax.

But tonight... tonight is a night that will go down in my Scrabble book forever.

Tonight is the night that I opened with "martini" (22 pts + 50 pt bonus = 72 pt opening) and followed that three turns later with "material" (20 pts + 50 pt bonus = 70 pts).

Rock rock. Two seven-letter plays gave me a 150 point lead by the end of the first five turns.

Chew on that, Nicky-boy.

---
and chew he did.

He played "axel," "quits," "ozone," and "sac." Odd word choices, but also aggravating because he played them on triple-word scores. He closed the gap (Brian:362 to Nick:340), but mostly because I spent ten turns in the middle looking for an opening to play "guppy." It's a funny word. A word I want to play every time I get the letters.

Oh well. I will console myself with the fact I managed to play "sex" and "skid" in the same turn.

So, in the end, I scored a narrow victory but got some laughs out of it.

[guppy]
brian

Yes!

2006-02-09T01:39:00.000-08:00

I spent a few hours today cleaning up my room. I brought in a new bookshelf, and fixed an old broken one (with a hammer and everything!). I also cleaned a file cabinet which had apparently been used to catalog a large group of various poisonous spiders (still breathing), hung up some really cool (and sentimental) art, and dusted. Yes, dusted. It's important to dust.

My room feels more comfortable now. Papers no longer occupy the floor. Books no longer haunt the dark corners of my room. I have, as the Germans say, made a space for myself.

It feels good.

[spaces for everyone!]
brian

Mao

2006-02-04T03:03:00.000-08:00

Deity: Let there be a card game, and it shall be called Mao.
Lesser Deity: Mao?
Deity: Mao.
Lesser Deity: Why Mao?
Deity: Why not Mao?
Lesser Deity: Good point.
Deity: I thought you would agree.
Lesser Deity: So how does one play Mao?
Deity: That.... is unknown!
Lesser Deity: Unknown?
Deity: Unknown.
Lesser Deity: Why?
Deity: Why not?
Lesser Deity: Because if people do not know how to play, then they will not know how to win. And people don't like to play games that they cannot win.
Deity: You have turned logic against me, fiend! I shall fly at thee!
[Deity flies at thee]
Lesser Deity: Wait! Instead of hurting me, why not make up rules for the game?
[Deity stops flying at thee]
Deity: I shall consider this. [considers] You make a compelling argument.
Lesser Deity: Good.
Deity: The rules of the game are... that there are no known rules of the game!
Lesser Deity: No known rules?!
Deity: Precisely!
Lesser Deity: But then people cannot win!
Deity: Yes they can!
Lesser Deity: How can they win if there are no rules?
Deity: Who said there are no rules?
Lesser Deity:You just did.
Deity: Did I?
Lesser Deity: Yes!
Deity: DID I?
Lesser Deity: I heard you say that there are no known rules to Mao---
Deity: Precisely!
Lesser Deity: What do you mean?
Deity: There are no known rules for the game of Mao. However, there are rules.
Lesser Deity: How will the people play then?
Deity: [considers] I have it! Some few shall know!
Lesser Deity: But who decides who shall know and who shall not?
Deity: Hush, Lesser Deity, lest I fly at thee again! Will not the Mao go whither it goes?
Lesser Deity: Uh...
Deity: It shall! Let there be no confusion. Mao shall make its own way in the world of Man!
Lesser Deity: But how?
Deity: Are you sure you want to know?
Lesser Deity: Not really.
Deity: SURE?
Lesser Deity: Uh... yes...
[Deity looks left, right, left again]
Deity: [whispers] Come in closer.
Lesser Deity: What?
Deity: [whispers louder] Come in closer!
Lesser Deity: [comes in closer] Okay.
Deity: Mao shall make its own way in the world of Man, through...
Lesser Deity: Through?
Deity: Through....
Lesser Deity: THROUGH?
Deity: [whispers] Secret knowledge.
Lesser Deity: ! Brilliant!
Deity: I know!
Lesser Deity: So how shall we begin to spread the Mao?
Deity: Let us make just a few rules, and don the garb of humans, and give them what's for!
Lesser Deity: Yes, let's!
[Voices trailing off]
Deity: So I was thinking that the Aces should work as [!*#*@!]...
Lesser Deity: I see. And the 8's, what about if they [$&*_@$$]?
Deity: Brilliant!
Lesser Deity: What a good idea...

[go play it. if you dare.]
brian

a.to.z.

2006-01-30T20:39:00.000-08:00

My taste in music says a lot about me. This last year has been like a music class in which I've learned a lot about both what I like, and what is good. If you want to know something about me, then take a look at this music which I have sometimes discovered, and more often been introduced.

Click.

["they all understand days that are over will not continue to last"]
brian

And So It Ends

2006-01-30T13:17:00.000-08:00

Yesterday, I said goodbye to something I have come to love very much.

I said goodbye to my break.

This was perhaps the most bitter of all farewells I have ever paid. I think it was because my last semester was just so rigorous. I took five courses, all of which were upper-division. Guh.

This semester looks to be quite a bit lighter. I only have four courses this time around, three of which are upper-division, one of which is a 200 level survey for my major. Why the hell am I taking a survey course here and now? It baffles the mind. I will be a senior in a class composed almost entirely of sophomores and freshman. I'm a moose in a dog kennel.

Moose in a dog kennel? Hm.

So, here goes the grind again. I'm off. Or on. Or back. :-
[break>school]
brian

Redrawing the Gender Lines

2006-01-25T01:07:00.000-08:00

Girls and homosexuals are not the only people who buy and/or want candles. I am tired of that stereotype.

It bothers me because I happen to like candles, and happen to be coined as either [a]homosexual or [b]a boyfriend who needs to get a gift fast. This is a fascimile of a real conversation at Pier 1 that I had:

Brian: How much is this Indonesian Teak candle?
Employee: $20 for the pillar.
Brian: Thanks.
Employee: You're welcome. Is this for your girlfriend?
Brian: [indignant] No.
Employee: Oh, I'm sorry! ... Is it for your boyfriend?
Brian: NO!

What is so unbelievable about a straight man wanting a candle? Candles are great, and they accomplish many things at once:

[1] They provide illumination at night.
[2] They create ambiant atmosphere for less than track lighting.
[3] They eliminate bad odors from a room [men make these].
[4] They often add good scents to a room [men don't make these].

Is it so unbelievable that a man might want to have a room look, feel, and smell good? Goshhhhhhh!

Well, I'm done ranting. Now if you'll excuse me... I have to go listen to some Kenny G while drinking rose tea in a bubble bath.

[kidding. i hate kenny g.]
brian