Snap. Crackle. Pop.

I don't know if it's the weather or what, but I'm convinced I'm getting sick. My left ear is crackling. That's probably not good. It sounds like its full of water and everytime I shift my head, so that the level of pressure is rebalanced in my ears, it's like little springs are snapping. I open my mouth, and a coil gets loose and bounces around my eustacian tubes. A Keebler elf is jumping trampoline in my ear drum.

Maybe it's the weather. It's been cold here lately. As in, freezing. And I've been walking home a lot. It's been snowing and I've been walking and breathing hard into my scarf and wool collar. Maybe that's it. But it feels so good to have hard pavement under your feet with cold wind in your face.

I never anticipated it'd be THIS beautiful out here. I drove into the canyon and through Heber Valley over the weekend. Even at night, I was just awestruck at those mountains. I was at a campfire on a summit of one of them, and it's intense how far you can see into the range even at 2 AM.

It's perfect for driving with a little heat on, listening to Jose Gonzalez and Bob Dylan. Did anybody get my Merry Christman 06 cd? Listen to it if you're ever out here and it's cold. It sits by you like a warm puppy.

Some people have less tact than Dick Cheney in a quail flush. I'll stop thinking about them.

Speaking of quails, there are quail everywhere. And we chase them yelling "Young Prince! Young Prince!" For some reason that makes us happy.

All I can think about anymore is US 42 in winter. I hope when I come home people will stay up all night, enjoying being outside in the middle of the highway, or parking lots, or car windshields, or music and empty parks again. That would be awesome.

Take it easy, love nothing

I'm at work again. Like everyday. I've been here too long, trying to make my hours this week. I want to be on a shoot holding a white board, making actors wince when I catch the sunlight right in their eyes. Not in my building. It's a wonderful feeling.

This place got more flourescent lighting. Being in here long enough makes me realize that they're blinking to stay alive, these lights. They jump against my face like the Scera marquee, all neon whites. It's like a snow covered tv screen after awhile. All you can see is the swirl of black and white.

I want a sandwich, a drink, and sunlight.

Update over.

If love is blind it must have an Oedipus-complex because it hurts like a motherfucker.

Reasons why I've decided I was cooler as a 9 year old.

Being at work allows me a lot of time to do, well, absolutely nothing. Most of my time goes into reading wikipedia articles. A lot of them. Because of this job so far, I am way more knowledgable on the topics of Conan O'brien, The White Stripes, The Soledad Brothers, Space Ghost Coast To Coast, Adult Swim, H. John Benjamin, Squigglevision, the first season line-up of UPN, Brendan Small, Michel Gondry, and a number of other unrelated, worthless subjects. But surfing through a lot of these pages has caused some hardcore nostalgia. And, I'll admit it, a little bitterness. The result of all this learning has lead me to realize this simple fact:

I was way cooler as an 8-10 year old than I could ever hope to be again in this lifetime. It's true. It's the simple truth. I was way cool. I was part of trends that didn't become trends until I started driving a car. I was part of a culture that was maybe 20 years older than me. Which is weird to think of. I'm not half as cool as I was back then. Not even. If I met myself, I think the 8 year old would blow me off and go back to playing with Alien toys and watching awful sci-fi movies. The reason for this coolness was almost certainly my innocent curiosity. If it was new and intersting, I wanted to be a part of it. This is the reason I started collecting old bottles. And sea glass. And out of date action figures. This is the reason I spent hours drawing up lists of the things I knew about, connecting television show writers to comedians to producers. I once linked the entirety of the Loren Bouchard/Brendan Small/H. John Benjamin collaborative work together. I'd seen every episode of Just Shoot me by the time I was 10. I was unstoppable. That's not all, in reflection, I've come up a lot of other reasons why I was way way way cooler as a young kid. Let's review:

I’d frequently stay up far too late watching new episodes of Home Movies, Dr. Katz, Dilbert, and Space Ghost Coast to Coast.

At the age of 8, I was enamored with Bob and Margaret, that Canadian-based show about the orthodontist and podiatrist. I’d stay up until 1 AM trying to catch it on the Sunday night slot, Oh Canada received.

I’d viewed almost every aired season of Brady Bunch, The Facts of Life, and I Love Lucy.

I was privy to the amazing guerilla marketing and creative take-back that was “What a Cartoon!” show. I gobbled up this new style of cartooning and ad marketing. It was new, incredible, and I think is the main cause for every single bit of neurosis, paranoia, and compulsive awkwardness. Think of it this way. Space Ghost was awkward. So I had to be.

I watched Baby Blues debut on the UPN. And cheered when it came to Adult Swim. And cried when it left.

I downloaded Barenaked Ladies songs for mixes that included Flogging Molly, Boyhitscar, Polaris, and, of course, the Transplants.

I was obsessed with Yu-Gi-Oh, Final Fantasy, and anime classics like Cowboy Bebop, FLCL, Outlaw Star, TriGun, and Akira. I was unashamed in everyway. I knew I was cool. I wasn’t just cool. I was badass.

Even I knew the PJ’s was a bad idea for a tv show.

I beat the hell out of a kid who called me gay one day. With my broken arm. I had broken my wrist by jumping off of a bmx ramp on a mountain bike. I flipped the bike and broke the wrist in two places. I then neglected the injury for two weeks, finally acknowledging its presence when I re-broke it in my sleep watching the UPN show “Bad Girls.” I got the cast on and decided it would be a good idea to use it as a weapon. It was. I was feared.

No shoes was a standard.

I watched Adult Swim evolve from its original air date. I was appalled when they deserted the original swimming pool bumps.

I constantly referred to Salute Your Shorts, Stick Stickly, and Hey Dude in middle school when it was apparent that everybody else was too cool to remember their childhood.

I was too cool to remember my childhood when it was cool to remember your childhood.

It's depressing to know you reached your peak so long ago. Maybe I'll go try and build a blanket fort. But even if I do, I know it won't be nearly as impressive as the one I constructed in the 7th grade (a whole basement. Like. the entire basement. With a sky light. An atrium. Auxillary entrances). It's impossible. I'm giving up. All that's left to do is write letters to the past, hoping one of them succeeds in breaking through time and space and ends up in the hands of former self. Here's the message,

"Never lose it."

How's it gonna do?

I keep wondering how life could have turned out lately. Not in a way that laments my current position. I'm happy to be where I am. I'm happy for the choices I've made, and the things that have happened as a result of that. It's just an old game I play in my head, imagining where I could be right now at this minute if I'd done things differently. I think I started playing when I was about 9 and some wise 4th grader talked to me in circles about the existence of different universes. I would sit for hours absent-mindedly thinking up what could be different in those universes. "There'd be ducks. But they'd be purple. And in another universe off of THAT, the ducks would be purple but I'd have new air jordans. And in another one off THAT one..." and so on. I still don't understand why all I ever altered in my dream universes were the coloration, size, and frequencies of populations of ducks. But some mysteries will never be solved.

So I sit and think about where I could be. Of course to do this, it implies that I know where I am right now. Which, maybe I don't know so much about.


We can start with the surface: I'm on a couch that sort of smells like pee. I'm in an apartment that almost always smells like bacon. I'm in a cold state. There's one light on in the apartment. I represent 1/6th of the apartment's population, 1/72th of the building overall.

We can dig a little deeper: I'm getting tired. I feel sort of bad because it's two minutes from 3 and I promised Natalie I'd actually try and get to bed before 3 tonight. I'm craving green apple Mundet. I'm reading an A.J. Jacobs book and I just watched 10 hours of conference talks over the weekend. I feel church-y.

From here I could think about the things I want: I want it to snow. I want to be warmer in my home. I want to have enough money to get the hundreds of photos I have left to develop. I want to scan in all my other photos. I want to not go to work tomorrow.

But then again we could think about the things I'm grateful for: I'm grateful for the Restored Gospel. My family talking to me while they eat dinner. I'm grateful for my eyesight. For my hearing. For great music on my zune. I'm grateful for pretty nice roommates. I'm grateful for good friends. I'm grateful for the existence of green apple Mundet. I'm grateful for the ability to choose my own life. I'm grateful for my Lord.

Actually, I'm thinking maybe I do know a lot about myself. So let's play the game.

In an alternate universe, I'd be going to Ohio University. I'd get wasted every weekend. I'd grow an awful beard. I'd have a million friends. I'd probably smoke and have a puffy vynll farming vest for the winter.

In an alternate universe much like that, I'd go to Ohio University and I'd have no friends. I'd be awkward to talk to and I'd take to wearing thick-black rimmed glasses that I don't necessarily need. I'd respond to people much too quickly. When people asked me where I'm from, I'd nearly cut them off saying, "Nowhere!" I'd wear a hunting hat like Holden Caulfield. I'd be involved in a very unfortunate event involving my roommates and the girl's dorms, wherein I'd never live down the nickname "Boss Ross."

In an alternate universe, I'd still be in Northern Kentucky working at Domino's. I'd start selling drugs with my manager Jeremiah who, I swear to this day, was Biggie. I'd use the words "shiii" and "gimme a smoke bitch" a lot.

I think if I had my pick, I'd choose the final one. Notorious.

Que?

Watch this. It'll change your life forever.

Things I've learned at college

Here are some things I've learned at college. Take notes:

-If you're in a lecture class and you have a laptop, eventually, no matter who you are, you'll play solitaire.

-Anyone with a general parking pass will soon despise the term "A Lot."

- Alexander the great looks pretty dead on Brad from Home Improvement.






Alexander Ty Bryan