ungainly

Right now I'm sitting in my favorite sittin' chair, laptop on lap, catching up on the current season of the television series 24. I'm also drinking tea because I woke up without a voice. Not fun. That's never happened to me before. All my dialogue today has been whispered, just like Jack Bauer when he's saying something important.

Well that sets the scene. Duuuuudes my weekend was swell. I mentioned the inversion last time, and it all came to a head on Friday night. I emerged from my subterranean Lair of Underemployment and found the world wrapped in a thick toxic fog. It was like nothing I'd ever seen before. Visibility on the roads was limited to maybe 20 yards. I couldn't believe how dangerous the driving conditions were so I texted everyone I knew about it.



I picked up terrence and went to the Urban Outfittings. There was nothing there for me. Unless you think green and purple plaid flannel would be a good direction to go in...

I did grab a new pair of shoes though, because I've had some recent success with dice games.

Went to Pat's BBQ, a happening little joint in a part of town where one could reasonably expect to witness a murder.


Actually it's just an industrial area full of warehouses and the like, but something about it feels murdery.

Get this. By the time we got to Pat's BBQ they had run out of food? All because of this guy!


Thanks a lot Guy Ferry. Pat's had been featured on his show Blah-Blah, Blah-Blah, and Blah earlier in the week and the place had been filled to capacity since. Well good for them I say. Nice to see a local BBQ place succeed in the face of stiff corporate competition like the McRib. Still. Look at that guy. I feel like he personally ripped a briscuit sandwich out of my hand and shouted "Now that's what I call food. Hey batter batter!"

Michelle was there. She has a reputation being lazy, and it's well earned. Twice this weekend I saw her just sit there and command complete strangers to bring her food! Geez lady.

After dinner (they still had some chicken left) we went to some cursed Frogurt place. Micky (new microsuede character) and I argued about whether a bed should run North-South or East-West. I guess we'll just have to agree to disagree on that one. Then I tried to prove that I had more Canadian street cred than EmilyA but she won out by being from Canada. Scott, fed up with my needless antagonism, punched me in the face and left an imprint of his skull ring. It's still there. Maybe now I can finally start calling myself the White Aaron Neville.

Wow, this blog entry has really turned into Link City.

Saturday morning I had breakfast with Andy at the Park Cafe. It was very crowded but still had food because Guy Ferry hasn't gotten his bleach stained hands upon it yet. There was a guy there with a t-shirt that had "I would die for what I believe in. Would you?" written on the back. On the front was the Safeway logo. Weird.

Saturday night I went to a soiree over on Woodshire. There are no pictures, but if you're reading this there is a 90% chance that you were there. Good party.

Sunday morning I fell into the sea.

That's actually a crab tank at the Ho Ho Gourmet (the original, not the new). EmilyA had the great idea to go there. I was disappointed at first but then an endless parade of Chinese snacks rolled by and all was well. I must have eaten over a dozen dim-sums as I watched the snow fall outside and delighted my companions with tales of the zoo. I want to make this place a tradition but sometimes you just can't recapture the magic.



After that I braved the snow and went to three different grocery stores, but was only able to find one jar of my Peanut Butter. I don't think my brand is affected by this recall that's going on, but this doesn't bode well. I may have to write another letter.

Then I saw Revolutionary Road.

I was reluctant to see it because movies dealing with suburban ennui tend to irritate me more than not. But this movie isn't quite as hard on suburbia as the trailers would have you believe. It's more of a personal story. I thought it was really good, but at times it was agonizing to watch. A lot of the things dealt with in the film spoke to the same issues that keep me up at night, for better or worse.

Here's the review.

of matters new year

Does anyone even like New Years Eve? Is there a more depressing song than Auld Lang Syne? No; no. That's the end of this discussion.

This Eve, or last Eve I don't know how to designate it, I hosted a Friendly Get-Together (not a party) and I think everyone had a good time. If you were there and didn't have a good time feel free to chime in. But you're wrong.

Best part? Obviously the Bryton Burgers. Or B-Burgers. The B-Burger is like a midnight kiss, but for your mouth. I kind of want a new name for them. Suggestions?



In all seriousness, thanks to everyone for coming. It was one of my best New Years', so right on.

Only a couple of other New Years Eves stand out. Like 2006 when I went to Beaver to work on my as yet unpublished coffee table book, Chairs of Central Utah.


In 2003/4 I celebrated New Years in Times Square. I was a couple days late but I'm counting it. Strangest thing. Times Square was completely abandoned. It was 11pm on a Sunday. Not a soul around. It was like Vanilla Sky. Underrated movie if you ask me, but maybe you disagree.


Funny thing. I don't remember how I got to Times Square. Not because time has past. I didn't remember even when this picture was being taken. I do remember that I gave a dollar to a bum because I thought he was Strider the Dúnadan

Resolutions? Nah. I mean, the standard ones I suppose. I'd like to be better. I'd like everything to be better. There we go.

2009: More Betterness.

the frogurt is also cursed

Friday. The Avenues. Next to the Haunted Tennis Court. Cold. The facts:

eggnog frozen yogurt = tasty
gorilla costume = neededThe Fall = good movie

I'd say more about The Fall but again Becky has beaten me to the punch. The turnaround time for her blog is much faster than mine.

This, in the stairwell of Becky's apartment:


A dirty magazine, just sitting right on top of the garbage can! When I was 12 I dreamed of finding such a thing. Finally all these years later that wish is fulfilled, and instead of thinking "yes!" and grabbing it (which let's face it, would be gross), all I can think is "well, here's something to mention on the blog."

Saturday, get this. I worked hard. I've made a good life for myself by hardly working, but all last week I was really busting my crackers at the office. And you know? It really felt good. Hahahahaha, no it didn't.

The Punisher: War Zone. The third try at a Punisher movie, and they still can't get it right. I'm baffled at some of the film-makers' choices, including the costume design.

The last time a Punisher movie came out I thought it would be a good date movie. Not really. But I did see it on a date because the gal wanted to hang out and I wasn't all that interested and wanted to see Punisher so why not? Then we ended up dating for like five years. Huh, I thought that would be a better story when I started typing it.

Sunday? More like Extreme Close-ups of Desserts Day.


(apple stuff)


(pecans)

(mint slim shady oatmeal cookies)

(the lazy debutante)

(not sure, and I kind of regret posting that picture now)

(pears)

(becky, with capital)

Everyone is having babies these days, am I right? I met Thandi, the newest member of the Family Gatsby. Look how content she is, all wrapped up in her giraffe blanket.


Hey Thandi, are you excited to meet Uncle Baby Bry?

Nope.

third base!

I've been watching a lot of baseball lately. You probably know this. The problem with watching a lot of anything is that you end up watching a lot of commercials. The same ones, over and over again. Commercials that are irritating the first time grow exponentially irritating with each viewing. Like the Giant Umbrella commercial. I hate it. Such a misguided attempt at whimzy and wonderment. Then there's that ad for some new fancy tv, where the guy is like, "You don't have to be an astrophysicist to understand this fancy tv, but I am an astrophysicist so gaze upon my giant face." You know the one I'm talking about? With this guy?


Whatever. Go Rays.

Saturday I went to a fundraiser for Obama, featuring all you can eat sushi and all you take stickers.


Just kidding, it was one sticker per person, strictly enforced. This guy Rob, a fairly pivotal figure in my history, is a big time sushi guy. He's been rolling rice for years.


From Rob according to his ability, to me according to my needs.

Doesn't this look good? It's like fresh ripe fruit. Fresh ripe fruit made out of a tuna.


The great thing about having a blog is that you can post overly flattering pictures of yourself to make the world think you're cool. Like this one of me eating a brownie.


After the brownie I washed my hands in the BATHROOM OF INFINITY!


Snow (snow!) had just started to fall as I was leaving. I captured some in the headlights of my white Lincoln Towncar.

What? I drive a white Lincoln Towncar now.

iron like a lion in scion (hahahahahahahaha, get it?!?!?!?!)

I don't even like the new car smell, to be honest. It kind of makes me sick. Not sick like ill, but sick like sick of the materialism our culture so reveres. Actually wait, I did mean sick like ill.

Point is, I got a new car this weekend. My old one broke, so I threw it away (parked it in front of a dumpster). I've been looking at this one for a while. Gets over twice the mileage of my old car, and it kind of feels like driving a racecar. It has an ipod connecter too so you know, modern.

Buying a car takes forever. Did you know this? There's all this stuff you have to sign, and then you have to wait for photocopies and then some other fat guy comes out and shakes your hand and talks too fast and starts going off about Platinum this and Gold that and Silver it and then they're like "here's how the windshield wipers work" and you're all "I have a BBQ to go to" but then you don't go because you went to Greek Souvlaki and felt all gross afterward.

pressure drop

You can stop sending me your e-mails an petitions. I'm fine, and now I'm back to blogging regularly. Let's go. Recognize this?

Look up there. ^^^^. The Microsuede logo is based on this painting, "Chop Suey." It's my favorite painting, and the MacGuffin that kicked off my weekend, which was as awesome and exhausting as a twenty-two inning baseball game.

I'll get you caught up. Thursday I did a heap load of moving and I'm closer to getting settled into my new place. It's a basement apartment, and upstairs live a cat and a middle-aged woman and ... my idiot brother Michael. Long story, ask me about it sometime.

I forgot that the local Fox Sports channel shows Rockies games. Last season I got all into the Rockies so I'm a perfect bandwagoning fan. While organizing my new domicile I flipped on the game. Six hours later the game ended. 22 innings of baseball excitement. The best part was around the 14th inning when the announcers ran out of things to talk about.

"I might head down to the Walgreen's there and ... get some of that stuff you put on your lips ..."

(40 second pause)

"Lip balm?"

The game ended around 2:22 and I hadn't even packed yet and still had a ton of stuff to do. I had to leave the house Friday by 8am so I didn't get much sleep.

I planned this trip to see an exhibition by my favorite painter, Edward Hopper. Kind of a once in a lifetime opportunity to see all of his major works gathered together in one place. In a series of remarkable coincidences, I found out that my favorite band was playing that weekend and that my good friend Rudy from San Jose would be in Chicago at the exact same time.

At the airport I stopped to buy a magazine and there was a lot of upselling. "That's it? Just the one paper? For only a dollar more you get a bottle of water. You're not going to try the new '5' gum?"

I ended up getting a water. And I had to buy gum because my total came to $6.66 and I didn't want any part of that.

I was tired, but I could sleep on the flight right? Nope. The stewardess had a voice like a number 2 pencil, and stood in the aisle next to me talking to some passengers the whole flight. My ipod couldn't drown her out and I didn't want to turn it up too loud since my hearing is still damaged from shootin'.

I walked through O'Hare and "Song for Bob" from the soundtrack to The Assassination of Jesse James by the Coward Robert Ford. Give it a listen here, if you'd like. Hearing this song in an airport makes your life seem much more dramatic than it really is. For a while everything was moving in slow motion.

There were a lot of sailors running around in the airport. Ensign, stop! You've got the wrong type of port!

I realized that I was completely unprepared and didn't know how I was going to get from the airport to my hotel. For all I know a cab would be a hundred bucks. I called Sean.

Sean: "This better be important!"
B: "Oh, uh, what are you doing?"
Sean: "Eh. Nothing."

I ended up taking the train. I liked the image from the top of the stairs. Like something out of a dystopian nightmare.



Here I am, boldly gazing into the future.

From the train window I spotted Ira Glass, just hanging out.

The train went subterranean and I realized I had no idea where I needed to get off, and no phone reception to verify. There was one other guy on the train car with a suitcase, so I followed him when he de-trained.

Once I got topside I was overwhelmed. The buildings in Chicago are way too big! I felt like a farm boy getting to the city for the first time. I'm no yokel, I lived in New York for a while (twenty non-consecutive days), but I was intimidated by this place.

On the way to the hotel I stopped to rough up Dan Rather, then met up with Rudy and we went to the much acclaimed Chicago pizza chain Gioardano's.

What a dish!

View from the 41st floor. The second building from the right is the Tribune building. I think a wizard lives there.

Rudy was in town to see a show by a guy named Saul Williams. The concert had been sold out for a while but I was able to buy a ticket from a sad young French girl who didn't realize it was 21+. I hope she didn't have to travel to far to get to the show.

Remember the skunk with a cup on it's head? How about a guy with a cup on his head?

Nope. Not nearly as cool.

I'm not sure what I expected from Saul Williams, but it certainly wasn't this.

Spoken Word/Hip-Hop meets Nine Inch Nails meets Feathers meets Facepaint meets Spiderman.
He closed with a cover of "Sunday Bloody Sunday" that would make Bono choke on his own sunglasses. Pretty rad.

Next time: Chicago, day 2

it's time i got back, it's time i got back, and i don't even know how i got off the track

What? You'll have to speak louder, because I can't hear you. I'll explain later.

Action packed weekend. Friday night was the Bees home opener, and you know how I love the Bees (don't you? is anyone even paying attention here?)

Beautiful night for a ballgame, except for the part where it was 30 degrees.



It was a fun game. The crowd was into it, and there was a lot of scoring. (both on the field and off, if you know what I mean!)

The Bees ended up losing for the first time this year, which I blame on poor fielding, and also poor pitching. Best heckle of the night, courtesy of Lee: "Nice catch, idiot!"

I should mention that I could have been killed by a foul ball. None ever came our way, but still.

Afterward me n' Lee had a very pleasant dinner at the Training Table. Bleu Bacon Burger and Cheese Fries. Not to be dramatic, but I could have died of a heart attack.

Huh?

That's funny because I've always called music "a bleu bacon burger to your ears."

Saturday I did a lot of moving. My stuff, Chris's stuff, a little of Emily's stuff, more of my stuff. If I had to describe the day in one word it would be "sweaty." Maybe I could have been crushed to death by furniture.

Daniel and Scott had been calling for adventure all day, so finally a group of us saddled up and headed down I-80 west, Tooele bound.

Here Scott (professional geologist) explains something about landslides.

The route takes us past the Big Salt Lake in all its majestic glory.

Tooele County is where my pappy done come from, so I'm a little bit familiar with it. It has everything you could ever need. A haunted valley, a mysterious military base, nuclear waste, toxic nerve gas, chemical weapons bunkers, underground fires, the new Area 51, and a very spicy pickle.

More importantly, there's a lot of open country for the discharging of firearms.

Conversation in a gas station in Stockton, UT (pop. 443):

"Is there a good place around here to go shooting?"

"Shootin'?"

The fella was a little perplexed by the question because really the whole county is one big shootin'. gallery.

We drove into the desert along the Old Mormon Trail, the same trail the pioneers used when they wanted to go shootin'.

By the time we found a good spot the sun was heading downward.

Luckily we found an area that had a pre-made foxhole full of shootables. Like a half-empty propane tank.

Scott got a new handgun recently. A .40. Same kind of gun a lot of cops use. It's really fun to shoot, but at the very instant this photo was taken I went deaf in my left ear.

Ear protection should always be used, kids. I'm a little better now. For a while everything sounded like it was coming from a broken radio and the ringing was non-stop. It's weird though, when I touch my ear it feels like it's numb. I'll give it a few more days before panicking.

Camera phone in one hand, gun in the other. Weird.

Lee had some fun taking shots.
We finally decided to shoot at the propane tank from about fifty yards away with Scott's Soviet SKS. We hid behind the car (fearing explosion) while Scott plunked away at it.

It didn't explode so we all took turns. I'm such a good shot I didn't even need to look.

Kapow!

We stopped shooting because we ran out of bullets.

Next on the agenda? Why food and sports of course!

Tooele has a dance-club/sport-bar called Tracks. Don't be fooled by it's location! It's very hard to get to. There was a time it seemed that we would never make it, and that not even Barabus could save us. Finally it was within reach.

We settled in to watch the last quarter of the Jazz game. I was watching the middle tv.

Everything was cool until they made us switch tables so they could clear out the dance floor. We left some time later and there was no dancing occurring.

Sunday, more moving. Also had the family over for grilling and the goose didn't even bother me too much.

I guess I haven't really talked about moving much on the blog. Anyway, I'm moving. Here I am building my bed.

Baseball? Guns? Tools? I feel so manly right now. Totally cancels out the messenger bag and my general spaziness and the fact that I'm unclear on how to jumpstart a car.