My Augmented Reality
Monday, July 2, 2012
Tuesday, June 5, 2012
The End?
Today is the deadline for our final projects in Augmented Reality (the class that I created this blog for). However, I have thoroughly enjoyed blogging so I will definitely continue to do so. I am at about 600 views right now which is exciting considering I really haven't been doing this long and really haven't promoted my blog much. My hopes thus far is to try to convey my "unique" sense of humor as well as some of my writing. I surf the internet more than I should so it is nice to have a place to compile all of the things that interest me for you all to see. Thank you to everyone who has given up some time to look over this. I love you all.
-Brian
I leave you, for now, on this note.
No words.
Just emotions.
-Brian
I leave you, for now, on this note.
No words.
Just emotions.
Story Time
What Comes To Mind
Where
the fuck am I going to find the morning after pill in Keycut, Alabama? I
haven’t seen a Subway or a Starbucks yet, so I’m pretty sure the odds of me finding
a Planned Parenthood aren’t very good. I am on a cross country road trip with
my best friend Seth and his younger sister Ruthie, and I decide that boning
Ruthie is the best and most logical move for me to make at this point in my life.
Retarded is an exaggeration, but
it’s what comes to mind.
It’s
as hot as I imagine hell is and I’m in some of Seth’s tight fitting clothes I
grabbed as I stumbled out of the hotel room. His clothes smell like piss and they’re
itchy. The smell along with all of the booze still in my stomach is making me
feel sick and it is taking all the focus I can muster to not blow chunks all
over the uneven sidewalk.
It’s
been five weeks since my parents told me they were splitting up. I would be a
liar if I said that I didn’t see it coming, but I still feel like it’s all kind
of a dream. It blows. I don’t think anyone can ever fully prepare themselves
for something like that. It’s like getting punched in the face. Even if you
know it’s coming it still hurts like a bitch. Seth says a road trip will
revitalize my spirit. That the open road will free my mind of all the stress
coming from my parents split. Seth is always saying stupid shit like that. What
the hell does that even mean? I see it more as just transporting the prisoner,
because I still feel like shit, but now I feel like shit on a road trip. Not
wanting to hurt Seth’s feelings I acted eager and agreed. Two eighteen year old
high school graduates ready to take on the world. But Seth’s mom wouldn’t allow
him to take on the world unless we brought his sixteen year old temptress of a
sister Ruthie along. Seeing as Seth’s mom is a bitch and was letting us take
her Subaru, Seth didn’t argue, and seeing as I could be entertained on the long
drive with just looking at the eye candy that is Ruthie I didn’t argue.
I
feel like a salt covered slug leaving behind a trail of sweat as I slink across
the dusty sidewalk past a shot-down elementary school. I wonder how the school
could possibly even be open. Around the corner I find a beat down depressing
dump of a playground filled with kids.
Recess.
I
make a mental note of all the safety violations I am witnessing and wonder if
any of these kids would know where I could access morning after contraception
in this town. I don’t even know anything about the morning after pill. I have
only had sex three times. My first time was with a condom, the second time I
didn’t even “make it”, but at least I was in the clear regarding knocking the
girl up, and my third time was last night with Ruthie. Fuck. Seeing as the
average age in the playground is probably seven at most I decide to not ask for
any advice and continue my horrid walk through Hell.
We
left home four days ago and haven’t done much but drive, but we did stop at
Seth’s aunt’s the second night for dinner. I am not one for judging other’s
faith and religion and all that stuff, but Seth’s aunt’s house made me want to cannon
ball into a boiling vat of holy water. The walls were covered in a bunch of
knitted Bible verses that had a bunch of misspellings, and she had a bookshelf
dedicated to a bunch of Jesus knick knacks. I even zipped up my sweatshirt to
cover the Slayer shirt I was wearing out of fear of being judged. It’s not like
I am an atheist, I just didn’t grow up in a Christian environment. I can’t
complain too much though because the grub was good and I didn’t have to talk
much aside from Seth’s aunt asking me if I had accepted Jesus Christ as my
savior.
I said yes.
By
this time my morning drunk has worn off and I am completely sober. Now I just
feel like an ice pick is stuck in my skull and I just got run over by the
hangover truck. The sun is just making things worse. I remove one of the itchy
layers I am wearing and tie it around my waste. The smell of piss is not
helping matters. Seth must not shower as much as I thought because it really
reeks. As I struggle with my piss aroma dilemma I pass a house that could win
the “Shittiest House in the World” award if there was such an award. It would
at least be nominated. Up against the rickety paint-chipped stoop of the house
is a passed out sea cow of a man. A beat up hat is pulled down over his eyes
exposing only his chapped lips which are leaking chew-ridden drool. If it
weren’t for the almost undetectable up and down motions of the guy’s massive
gut I would bet he was dead. This town is really testing my stomach.
We
drove for 44 hours straight after leaving Seth’s aunt’s house. My ass had never
been so numb. We didn’t talk much during the drive. Seth and I would alternate
shifts driving and sleeping while Ruthie went about her business driving a few
hours here and there. Aside from a little chit chat from time to time about the
band we were listening to, a funny road sign, or asking if anyone needed to go
to the bathroom, Ruthie and I didn’t talk much. I looked plenty, but we didn’t
talk much. Seth and I have been friends for about three years, so since 10th
grade. Ruthie was always cool. I never gave her much attention and she never
called for it, but over the past year nature has taken its toll, for the
better, on Ruthie and she has gained my
attention. It’s always weird. You know, that
feeling of guilt when you “appreciate” the opposite sex when you know they
aren’t aware, and when you know that maybe you shouldn’t. This is how it was
for me with Ruthie. Take that and mix in that she is also my best friend’s 16
year old sister.
Clusterfuck is probably a juvenile
term to describe my situation, but it’s what comes to mind.
After
driving for two days straight we decided we needed to stop. We stopped in
Keycut at the “Inn and Out”. Seth and I went to a convenient store on the way
and I distracted the attendant while Seth stuffed two fifths of 151 and a pint
of peach schnapps into his pants. Much more alcohol than we needed. I had drank
a few times throughout high school but Seth never had. After four shots Seth had
already puked and was snoring buried under pillows and blankets. Ruthie then
talked me into letting her drink and made me promise not to tell Seth. Why not?
Seth and I were supposed to share a bed and Ruthie was supposed to sleep on the
hide-a-bed the Inn had provided. At one shot I was still ready to carry this
out. At two shots I noticed how attractive Ruthie looked as we shared a
cigarette. I was surprised she wasn’t coughing from the smoke. I tried to be
smooth and brush her hair out of her face but my watch got tangled in her hair.
What a fucking idiot. But she laughed, scooted closer, and held my hand. My
heart started pounding. We continued to hold hands and she asked me about my
parents. She asked how I was dealing with it and told me I could talk to her
about anything. People always say stupid stuff like that. “You can always come
to me.” Or “you can talk to me about anything.” I am not normally one for
cheesy shit like that but I believed Ruthie. She smiled and looked me right in
the eyes. I looked at the ground most of the time. Even with some alcohol in me
I felt shy. What a schoolboy bitch. I was caught off guard when Ruthie brought
up my parents because even Seth and I didn’t even really talk about it. It’s
not that Seth doesn’t care. Or at least I don’t think that’s the case. It’s
just one of those awkward subjects. Like what do you say? I have known people
that have had family members die and stuff like that and I don’t know what to
say. I mean I guess it’s nice letting people know you care, but does it ever
really make them feel better? I don’t think so. But Ruthie seemed to actually
care. I had never felt that. It was nice.
Ruthie
and I talked for about an hour. At three shots I felt a little more confident
so I kissed Ruthie. Score. After awhile we went back inside. I turned off the
lights and we stumbled through the dark onto the shitty hotel bed. We kept
kissing and all of a sudden I found my hands struggling to undo her bra. Four
shots was glimpses of Ruthie’s naked body through the limited light in the room
as we “investigated” each other. Five…well, five was me making a big fuckin’,
condomless, mistake. Six was climax, and the last thing I remembered before
falling asleep.
It
must be the hottest day in the last decade. Even my sweat is sweating and I am
still uncomfortably sticky from the night before. Not good. I keep spitting to
try and get rid of the taste of 151, schnapps, tobacco, and Ruthie from my
mouth, but it doesn’t help. I see a sign up ahead.
Ice Cream.
Ice
cream is probably one of my favorite things in the world, but it doesn’t even
sound appealing right now, and seems like a really dumb stop to make at this
time, but at least it will cool me off and hopefully help me get rid of the
taste of bad choices from the night before. I pull the door open and a pathetic
bell rings. I welcome the cold air of the parlor and approach the counter. The
kid behind the counter is a goofy looking kid with floppy Dumbo ears. This kid
looks like he is at that awkward stage in puberty where your voice teeters in
pitches. I look at his nametag: DARBY. Fitting.
Darby gives me a huge goofy smile and asks what I will have. I gaze up
at my options:
VANILLA CHOCOLATE STRAWBERRY
Three
flavors. Three. Fucking. Flavors. You have got to be kidding me. Burt Baskin
and Irv Robbins would be shitting in their graves if they knew about this
calamity. Slinging only three flavors of ice cream could get you killed in some
places. I guess it really doesn’t matter all that much. They will all taste
like alcohol anyways. I let out a dazed chuckle thinking that choosing an ice
cream flavor is my number one priority when eight hours ago I had unprotected
sex with my best friend’s sixteen year old sister who was drunk off of alcohol
I gave her when her brother specifically made it clear he didn’t want her
drinking. I choose chocolate. I tip Darby with the change and eat my cone
inside.
Shelter…it’s the wrong term but
it’s what comes to mind.
Love.
“Life’s greatest mystery.” Well, aside from Bigfoot. I do believe in love I
just don’t think many people ever find it. I read something a while back, in a
magazine at my dentist’s office I think, that something like 52% of married
couples split nowadays. “Bullshit” I thought. Since then I have started to
believe that it’s true. I often wonder if my parents were in love. I guess not.
It’s depressing. Maybe they were in love in the beginning, or maybe they
thought they were. I dunno. Whatever they felt they didn’t feel it any more. I
also look at that 48% that stays together and wonder, “Out of all of those
couples how many of them are actually happy? Actually in love?”
30%?
20%?
10%?
It
seems after awhile “love” might just become something someone gets used to. Like
the smell of a paper factory or something. Maybe you just get used to love. Emotions
on cruise control. A static heart.
Fuckin’
cross walks. If I had to make a list of ten things I hated, cross walks would
make the top three. Every time I hit the silver button I wonder if it is even
connected to anything, and everyone seems to think the more you hit it the
faster it will change. I think it is just there to keep people busy during
their wait. The best is when the sign says don’t cross and there are people on
both sides. Everyone eyes each other like they are about to cross a mine field
waiting for the brave martyr, and as soon as one sheep goes they all go. I love
it. This crosswalk is ancient. There is not even one of the seemingly pointless
buttons. I look down both sides of the road like they teach you to do when
you’re little, and cross.
I
hear the town bells (yes the town bells) toll ten and realize I need to move my
ass if I am going find what I need in the middle of God knows where. Actually I
don’t even think God knows where this place is. I can’t blame him.
I
kick a rusted beer can and continue down the shitty sidewalk that looks like it
was surveyed by a bunch of high school drop outs. Probably drunk on the job. I
pass a beat up football field. The only way I can tell it’s a football field is
by the leaning goal posts at each end. The field is probably 80% dirt. 15%
grass. 5% garbage. But it’s 100% shitty. On the side of the football field
there’s a rickety set of bleachers with a hand painted sign above.
Go
Sparkplugs!
Shit.
As if these kids didn’t have enough to be depressed about. Shitty town. Shitty
field. Shitty team name. I imagine Friday nights here in Keycut. Whole families
probably gather to watch the Sparkplugs play football here. If they can even
see through the dust.
At
this point reality sets in. Aka reality takes a shit on my brain and I realize
how awful my situation is. I’m screwed. I’m fucked. I was screwed and because
of that I am fucked. I give up and plop down at a bus stop and put my face in
my hands. The international body language for, “what the fuck am I going to
do?”
Seth,
the punctual prick, is probably going to wake from his drunken coma soon and
want to leave, and if I show up late and he asks where the fuck I was I am
going to have to tell him where the fuck I was. I decide that my strategy of
just walking around aimlessly people watching and sucking down ice cream is not
very efficient or effective. I need guidance. I spot a shitty (big surprise)
gas station with a little shop and decide that I just need to grow some balls
and ask someone.
I
cautiously enter the scanty shop half expecting it to collapse in on me, and
approach the counter. Hidden behind a copy of Peterson’s Field Guide: Advanced Birding is a kid that could not be more than twelve. After
noticing he has a potential customer the kid closes his book and looks up at me
through his cheap drugstore purchased reading glasses. Poor kid’s balls haven’t
even dropped yet and he needs glasses to read his bird book. Now this is just a
big fucking pile of awkward. This kid’s biggest concern is how soon the
Black-Throated Warblers will be migrating south whereas mine is figuring out a
way to execute Plan B without my best friend figuring it out. I decide to not
burden the kid with the explanation and instead buy a pack of cigarettes. I
pack the smokes nervously and ask the kid for matches. He hands them to me and
asks if there’s anything else he can do.
Fuck it.
“Listen kid. I am kind of in a
shi—a bad situation. Do you know by any chance where a Planned Parenthood is?”
The kid looks at me for awhile blank faced. Figures. I turn and head out of the
store when I hear the kids squeaky voice.
“Yup, but the nearest one is 20
miles north in Slatesborough, but it’s closed on Sundays I think.” I turn and
look at the kid shocked. He puts a bookmark in his book and continues, “We sell
condoms if that’s what you need, they’re over there by the beef jerky, and the
church a little further down the road has a bunch of pamphlets on stuff like
that…you know like sex stuff. What are you lookin’ for?” I slowly approach the
counter thinking in my head how to word it.
“Uh well I was hoping to find a
morning after pill. Last night—well I just need one.” The kid continues looking
at me blank faced taking his time to answer.
“Hmm well I think you’re out of
luck here in Keycut for somethin’ like that. But my sister got one once and it
was a few days after and she had no baby. So I think you got a few days until
it’s bad. You should probably go to a doctor or somethin’. I think you can get
one from doctors but I dunno.” The kid picks up his bird book and begins
reading again. I thank the kid and leave.
I
definitely did not expect that from a little kid, but at least now I feel a
little better. I guess I am going to have to tell Seth so that we can go to a
hospital or a pharmacy or something. He’ll probably punch me right in the face,
but he’s sort of a little bitch so I am sure I can take it. Besides, I kind of
deserve it. This also will probably mark the end of our “road trip”. Whatever,
I think my spirit has had all of the revitalization it can handle for now.
As
I retrace my steps I pass by the ice cream parlor once more. Darby waves at me
from inside. What a goofy kid. Sure friendly though. To celebrate my small “victory”
in at least deciding what I am going to do I decide to get another ice cream
cone for the walk back. One last thing to remember Keycut by. I go inside again
and nod to Darby. This time I go with strawberry.
Sunday, June 3, 2012
My Mind Has Been Officially Blown
So for Memorial Day weekend this year I traveled to The Gorge in WA to attend the Sasquatch Music festival. For those of you who haven't been to The Gorge, or know what it is for that matter, it's a huge concert venure where the stage is set on a cliff and the background is a huge canyon with a river running through it. It's beautiful. See for yourself.
The picture doesn't even come close to doing it justice. Although I got to experience The Gorge in all of it's beauty for four days it was not the most amazing thing I saw.
This was...
Weird fill-from-the-bottom beer machine- 1
The Gorge- 0
The picture doesn't even come close to doing it justice. Although I got to experience The Gorge in all of it's beauty for four days it was not the most amazing thing I saw.
This was...
Weird fill-from-the-bottom beer machine- 1
The Gorge- 0
Saturday, June 2, 2012
Friday, June 1, 2012
Tarantino's Created His Own Universe
I found this and thought it was interesting, especially for those Tarantino fans out there:
It's well known that all of Tarantino's films take place in the same universe - this is established by the fact that Mr. Blonde and Vince Vega are brothers, everybody smokes Red Apple cigarettes, Mr. White worked with Alabama from True Romance, etc.
As it turns out, Donny Donowitz, 'The Bear Jew', is the father of movie producer Lee Donowitz from True Romance - which means that, in Tarantino's universe, everybody grew up learning about how a bunch of commando Jews machine gunned Hitler to death in a burning movie theater, as opposed to quietly killing himself in a bunker.
Because World War 2 ended in a movie theater, everybody lends greater significance to pop culture, hence why seemingly everybody has Abed-level knowledge of movies and TV. Likewise, because America won World War 2 in one concentrated act of hyperviolent slaughter, Americans as a whole are more desensitized to that sort of thing. Hence why Butch is unfazed by killing two people, Mr. White and Mr. Pink take a pragmatic approach to killing in their line of work, Esmerelda the cab driver is obsessed with death, etc.
You can extrapolate this further when you realize that Tarantino's movies are technically two universes - he's gone on record as saying that Kill Bill and From Dusk 'Til Dawn take place in a 'movie movie universe'; that is, they're movies that characters from the Pulp Fiction, Reservoir Dogs, True Romance, and Death Proof universe would go to see in theaters. (Kill Bill, after all, is basically Fox Force Five, right on down to Mia Wallace playing the title role.)
What immediately springs to mind about Kill Bill and From Dusk 'Til Dawn? That they're crazy violent, even by Tarantino standards. These are the movies produced in a world where America's crowning victory was locking a bunch of people in a movie theater and blowing it to bits - and keep in mind, Lee Donowitz, son of one of the people on the suicide mission to kill Hitler, is a very successful movie producer.
Basically, it turns every Tarantino movie into alternate reality sci fi.
Or try this one on for size, it's a stretch, but in a sense it did turn my memories of my nine year old self to shit.
None of the babies in "Rugrats" actually exist, but they are all instead figments of Angelica's imagination, as result of her parent's negligence.
Chuckie died with his mother, which explains how much of a nervous wreck his father is.
Tommy was a stillborn baby, which explains why his father, Stu, was always in the basement making toys for the son he never had.
Finally, the DeVilles had an abortion. To compensate for not knowing the sex of the baby, Angelica invented twins in her head, one boy, one girl.
Thursday, May 31, 2012
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