Back in Black

I hit the sack?

Terrible lyrics. Hitting the sack doesn't sound pleasant. Unless they mean the sack as in the bed.

I'm having some trouble getting into the flow right now, it's been a while since I've written anything. I draw now more than ever, and I'm looking into painting. I dance. I love.

I had to correct that last sentence, something I rarely do. But here goes.

Tool has always held a special place in my mind. Perhaps it's the heart of my mind, perhaps it's the soul. I'll never be sure which or even if either one exists. As I sip my diet coke I try to recollect the exact combinations of thoughts and feelings that I experienced last night. My thoughts are a jumbled mess, and all I can come up with is a feeling that we're all the same. As different as we are, we're all the exact same.

I'll try.

Explain.

The inexplicable.

The night before the concert. The night before the concert... Doesn't matter. Useless backstory for an event that's whole in it's incompleteness. Perfect in it's imperfection. Blah, those are all useless descriptions. More opinions really than anything.

The night started before the night started. We had a goal: make this the best concert experience ever. Our first preparation stop involved LSD. Our second a jacket. We chose to go and purchase three jackets (one each for me, Will, and Matt, or Mike, damn) from value village. Three jackets for under ten dollars that could easily be left behind in the event that they went missing at the show. They are now even more beautiful than ever. Will's, an eighties, neon windbreaker model. Mine, a purple, down-filled guiding jacket. And Mike's, A plain bomber jacket. I believe they illustrated who we are as people. At least myself anyway.

In order to save ourselves the inconvinience of having to cart around the obscene number of shirts that Mike bought for people for Christmas, we decided to run them back to the car for the show. Unfortunately, you can't get in and then leave; a problem that we circumvented with little problems. Blah, all this is unimportant.

By this point, we (including Mike) were relatively interested in even the most visually uninteresting things. We decided to walk around to get a grasp on our surroundings. We were hours early for Tool. We arrived at about 645, when the opening band took the stage at about 8. During our wander, I started to categorize the people at the show.

Before I get into these categorizations (which I know are wrong), I should let you, the reader, know where we were seated. Nowhere. Floor was general admission, and me and Mike are huge. We were no more than ten feet from Tool the entire time. Though, it must be said that I fought tooth and nail for every spot.

Group one. The "Tool Fan". Noticable with several distinctive characteristics: large pupils, large hair, large beards, and large T-shirts from tours previous. They were automatically friends. Few conversations were had with anyone other than this group. They could be found as soldiers, soldiers in the tool army. Beside me. Sweating. Moving. Fighting.

Group two. The "Girlfriends". I felt bad for them. They clearly didn't enjoy the show, nor the "monsters" that their boyfriends had become. Draped in more exposed skin than necessary, they were ignored by all. Tool, at least live, supercedes woman. With few exceptions. It should be noted that not all the "Girlfriends" actually had boyfriends. They could be found trying to flatter their way past me, or hitting me in the back of the head as they "surfed" the crowd, which is an ignorant, and potentially concert ruining practise that should be punishable by death.

Finally, my least favorite. The "Drunken Douche". The party animal. The problem. They give people a bad name. Clearly there to party, and only to party in their way. They were always responsible for the song-calling chants, and any trouble that happened during the show. Easily distinguishable rom the rest of us by their blatant inhebriation, and inability to be nice. They could be found everywhere. Everywhere you didn't want them to be.

My mom was there. About a row behind me at some points. In the mosh. In the thick of it. She made fun of me for being a pussy.

I've now left this for another day, picking up where I left off. This is a study break. Lets hope it goes well.

Now that you're all aware of who was there, I'll try give you a rundown of the music.

The opening band, "Trans Am", were terrible. I felt so horrible for them for having to play in front of a bunch of overly-judgemental Tool fans with uber-high expectations. They sounded like a combination of whoever sung "Mr. Roboto", Daft Punk and a cat in a shower. It was Horrific.

Then, Tool. As they started playing, I leaned over and loudly thanked Mike for getting us there early. I don't know if I've mentioned it yet, but it was general admission on the floor. The mosh soon started. Now, I like to let go and let the crowd move me where it feels it must. This technique is only effective until someone tries to edge you further back. It was a constant struggle. I loved it all. My back did not. Fun. Pain.

I started thinking.

First, about the crowd. Being a good member in a crowd involves two things. Self-preservation (in relation to wanting to stay in your spot) and generosity. You must fight for your position while at the same time not fighting too hard in an effort to not piss off people around you enough that they move you. This also applies to everytime you're dealing with more than one person. A good example was the parking lot escapades afterwards.

Second. Damn, I don't really remember what else I thought about. I mostly just absorbed. Not projected. Absorbed and appreciated. Appreciated and absorbed.

I made eye contact with Danny Carrey during his insane, mind-blowing solo. He doesn't even try. During said solo, the crowd tried to clap his rhythm he was on, and couldn't. Not one of us could understand it. No effort. It was unbelievable.

Maynard played us like puppets. Sending us into a daze, whether we were clapping for him, under his command, or singing for him (the vocals didn't sound right).

All in all, Edmonton show, or Saskatoon?

Musically, Edmonton. Everything just sounded better, and being in a seat; I was actually able to listen to it.

Fun-wise, Saskatoon. I simply enjoyed the show more. I was able to feel how the crowd reacted to it. I felt as though I, along with the rest of us, were a part of the show. Which was nice. Hands down, due to the fun factor, I think that Saskatoon was the better show, at least for me.

Wear the grudge like a crown.

Brandon Brown signing off. You start running, I'll start pulling.

Woah.

Had a pretty awesomeful (hard trance) dream last night.

Here I was eh, on this train that was transporting this extremely dangerous and powerful toxic weapon, when...obviously, as one would be, we were ambushed by jewish terrorists. The group that was responsible for the attacks of september 11th and the the battle that the movies 300 and grindhouse were based on.

Our only option was too unleash this terrifying weapon onto these poor, cruel, jewish souls.

Being in charge, the task of issuing this order fell directly on my shoulders.

"Do it." I ordered.

"But sir, do you know what will happen?" Said...some small, soon to die fool.

"Of course I do, I designed this weapon, but once those terrifying effects wear off, they'll be dead, and we'll be safe," I incorrectly stated.

One of the effects of this weapon was that, for a short time, all those infected became insanely strong and almost "zombie-like" before they died. In the lab, when they died, we simply put them into barrels and burried them in the ground.

We set off the attack. Green (obviously) clouds of doom spread around everywhere. Our gas masks saved us....for now.

The enemy twitched and threw themselves around the hillside and off the bridge that we were on. They all fell....We were safe....

Then came the shots....and the screams...

I was right in the middle of a fucking reptile zoo....or, moreover, a zombie movie....and I was untouchable...Jumping from one side of the train to the other, with an AR47 gas powered, semi-automatic weapon pumping round after round into the terrorist zombie scum.

Needless to say, I awoke with an erection.

Must Post Posts...Before it's too Late.

overcome by your moving temple
overcome by this holiest of altars
so pure, so rare
to witness such a lovely goddess

i lost my self control
beyond compelled to throw this dollar down
before your holiest of altars

i'll sell my soul, my self esteem
a dollar at a time for one chance, one kiss
one taste of you my magdalena

i've beared witness to this place, this lair, so long forgotten
so pure, so rare, to witness such a lovely goddess

and i'd sell my soul, my self-esteem
a dollar at a time for one chance, one kiss,
one taste of you my black madonna

i'll sell my soul, my self-esteem
a dollar at a time
for one taste, one tasteone taste of you my magdalena

I thought that it was the most beautiful love song I've ever heard. I still can't get past it. Ow, my eye, I'm not supposed to get pudding in it. Ow, I'm in hell.

Mixmaster me.

Mixmaster Mike tonight.

Nervous.

Excited.

Grinface

mook (m??k) Pronunciation Key n. Slang An insignificant or contemptible person.

Anyone who knows me.

Anyone who knows me knows me that I know me hating the laughter.


The Best Band EVER

But I don't pocess the necessary language to do so.

All right, here's the setup.

About 2 weeks ago I was informed that nutmeg holds hallucinogenic and delirient properties. Intrigued I gathered some fresh nutmeg and went searching for a guinea pig to give some to.

A dishboy at my place of employment fit the bill. He was dim, eager...and, ironically named Brandon. I fail to see the humor and don't wish to. Now, he injested them at work (never recommended) and noted the terrible taste/texture. The next day he called in sick, but the next time I spoke with him, he did his best to share with me his first psychadelic experience. Needless to say, he didn't handle it well (being alone high for over 24 hours) and I don't recomment Nutmeg as a beginner's psychadelic.

So, two weeks go by and I do my research. Reading people's trip stories on places like erowid.org (the greatest source on the internet) as well as others.

I found out that many people do not have good trips off of this. Though, these were almost exclusively kids with little or no drug experience that broke some of the cardinal rules of psychadelics. Several "seasoned" drug-takers' reports of their trips sounded right up my alley.

So, with a day off (yesterday); I decided to eat some of them. I carefully weighed out 19 grams. Appx 3 whole, fresh nutmeg (always weigh nutmeg, it's terribly easy to overdose), and planned my day.

The first 5 hours are all waiting, which I expected. Then about halfway through the 5th hour, blamo. Like I'd smoked a pound and a half of mushroom laced weed man.

Getting into the 6th or 7th hour, I went and saw pan's labrynth, a brilliantly directed spanish adult fantasy film that I highly recommend. Needless to say, I ignored much of the subtitles and instead focused on the stunning visuals and impecable musical score. Then, t'was home to bed.

I've read that many people had trouble getting to sleep on the old megtrain. I must have been the exception to that rule. Smoking about a gram of bubble hash will do that to you I guess. But, sleeping and more importantly dreaming seemed to be the best part of the trip. Extremely vivid, colorful, senseless flights of fancy filled my mind whilst I slept. And I awoke, about a half hour before my alarm was set to go off, more refreshed than I had been in months that early. And, luckily for me, still stoned off my tits. So, naturally I kept the party going and injested another 15-20 grams.

Philosophy class was terrific, though I did laugh inappropriately several times. I was slightly sedated by the Nutmeg, but it wasn't in such a manner that I was incapable or unwilling to move, I was just comfortable while not moving. (which is highly unusual for myself).

All in all I say that was a brilliant time. Not sure I need to do it again, as I'm going on my 48th hour tripping(?), and my stomach's now starting to get a little sore. Though, I'd give it a 7 out of 10. Where, be you a somewhat spiritual person, you should find it at least mildly informative.

I've got news for you. Yes man, I've got some news.

I've found a song that's summing up most of what I'm feeling. Well, actually; this was a alykhan find. Those of you that aren't familiar with Mr. Walji and his musical taste should be. That said, t'is a song by the faint titled agenda suicide.

you could follow logic
or contest it all
the work solution makes the common house a home

the element of progress
that you mention is gone
it de-evolved to something you were headed toward

as i lay to die the things i think
did i waste my time, i think i did- i worked for life

all we want are just pretty little homes
our work makes pretty little homes

like a cast shadow
like a fathers dream
have a cut out son
what's a worse disease
to get that pretty little home

as i lay to die the things i think
i don't want to regret what i did- and work for life

all we want are just pretty little homes
our work makes pretty little homes
agenda suicide, the drones work hard before they die
and give up on pretty little homes

(like a cast shadow)
our work makes pretty little homes
our work makes pretty little homes
agenda suicide, the drones work hard before they die
and give up on pretty little homes

What's really missing in your life?

After reading a respose to a blog from TR, I realized what I truly was missing in my life.

It's odd, you know. That, I now have money and a moderate amount of success in a glamorous industry, and I feel empty. As though, the world wouldn't notice if I just didn't wake up one morning. And, this isn't a good feeling. I'm sure many of you can attest to the validity of that statement. Whether you know from experience or from the lyrics of some lame ass simple plan song, the words aren't any less true. I'm not needed by anyone. Anywhere, as far as I know.

What could brandonbrown be missing from his life, you ask. Well, many things. Too many things. I seem to have traded everything that I had in my life for everything I didn't have while at the same time losing everything that I had. I'll tell you right fucking now, that; this time at least, the grass is white on this side.

But the most noticeable thing that's missing from my existence is a person to share it with. There seems to be no one that I can connect with on this side of the mountains.
Perhaps, you feel as I feel. That this is impossible, and that I must be doing it to myself. This is true. I'm conciously aware of it. I'm pushing people away that I may otherwise be the best of friends with. Even worse is my unwillingness to start a relationship with women due to the fact that I'm unfairly comparing them with a woman with whom I have such strong feelings for that I'm almost at a loss for words both in describing these feelings and how absurd and helpless they make me feel.

I can almost assure you, avid reader, that the person in question will undoubtedly not respond to this outpouring of emotion, just as she has systematically avoided every other post on the subject. For reasons that I understand all too well.

Furthermore, I have decided not to come back to Prince George to live for the summer. As disappointed as you may be. (are you?). I can assure you that I feel more than your collective disappointment. But, the way that I see it is that I now live in Saskatoon. I've moved on. Fuck, that's hard to read, but it stands as the truth. Don't get me wrong, I will be back. Perhaps to fix the relationships that I've ruined, or to try start new ones that I should have; but, I will be back.

Oh, I thought I'd take this time to wonder out loud why no one is making any fucking effort whatsoever to come and see me. I hear enough sob stories everyday about how upset people are that I'm gone. Yet, I've heard not one request for a room to stay in or a bed to sleep on. Nothing. Which, in itself is a little bit depressing. I don't know, maybe I'm viewing this incorrectly. Perhaps I'm just making some vain attempt to make you feel sorry for me. But, either way. A little word here and there isn't all that much to ask coming from me. The calls that I do get, god; they're great. Just know that I love you, and I have for as long as I've known you. Goodnight.

Things I'm missing.

Now, usually I would fill a blog with this title with the combinations of letters that make the words that represent the things back home that I'm yearning to see, do, or be with. But, right now. That's not on the top of my head. Actually, nothing is really on the top of my head.

I seem to be in a downswing in some ways. No matter the event, or the people there, I can't bring myself to be happy about it.

I ate some food, watched some Stewart and Colbert and sat down to an unfinished blog and realized how drastically my mood had changed. Some further realization made me realize that I'd done this all to myself in the name of "my future". Whatever the fuck that means. Though, if there's one thing that I've learned is that the things you want and miss, aren't always the things that you really want. You simply want to want them so bad that it nearly becomes reality.

Up until recently I believed that I only had one love in my life. Dancing. I haven't been dancing lately. I'm depressed. The best dancing comes from the disturbed mind. Perhaps I'll pick up the beat again. Until another time. B.

I have swallowed the poison of being me.

Mood: Unknown.

I'm catatonically depressed about a possible future-based near-fantasy that I'd been holding. To think of it brought joy to me. Lately, that possibility has been crumbling. However, as depressed as I am, I've learned something.

Just as with every situation that seems hopeless to the point of absurdity before this one, I've come out of it with a greater knowledge of myself, those around me, and the human race as a whole.

I'd first like to apologize for my lack of typing skills, as; for some reason: I have none right now. My word wizardry has simply carried out the window and left me here to suffer alone. Completely incapabable of transferring my disappointment in one person and hatred of another. That's all I'm going to say, as things may change. Though, if there's one thing that I've realized is that the only way to never be disappointed is to have no hope for the future.

Lesson fuckin learned. I'll see everyone in the summer. I cannot wait.

If Brandonbrown could feel,

He'd miss home.
He'd long to hackey sack in the park at the bandstand.
He'd be excited about summer.

Today, a man on acid realized. Or, learned.

That the universe has supposedly been proven as finite. That shook my world.

Apparantly, I'm

I am 44% Geek.

You probably work in computers, or a history deptartment at a college. You never really fit in with the "normal" crowd. But you have friends, and this is a good thing.

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Yesterday A man on acid realized.

That all matter is just energy condensed to a slow vibration. We are all one consciousness viewing itself subjectively, life is only a dream and we're the imagination of ourselves.

I can now rationalize my belief that I, and everyone else is the very centre of their respective universe. It's really quite simple once you wrap your head around it. Since the universe expands an infinite distance from any given point within it. Every point in the universe is a theoretical center of it, and therefore, my mind, for me; at all times is one of a limitless number of possible and actual center points of the universe.

A and B

Girl A and my feelings for said girl always get in the way of any possible relationship with girl B. Just because she's not girl A.

I forgot.

I forgot how much I love Benny Benassi.
I forgot what it's like to look forward to something.
I forgot what it's like to be a celebrity.

A gentleman from "The Overdrive" international nightclub came into beily's the other day, walked right up to the bar, and handed me a stack of free tickets to Benny Benassi at the end of the month.

"Can you bring people?" He asked.

I laughed and took the tickets. I'm uber-pumped. I decided to download some benny tracks, and realized that he's a fuckin amazing DJ. No lies. I'm retardedly excited. Only problem is that there are going to be several people that I work with there. Oh well.

Also, this Sunday, there's a staff party. First, a treasure hunt. Something that involves changing people's signs, stealing things, and generally causing a rucus. All of which I'm good at. Then, we have dinner/drinks, then...haha, we're going bowling. Which will be awesome, then back to somewhere else for drinks. Only problem is that there are going to be several people that I work with there. Oh well.

Finally, yeseterday saskatoon had the worste storm in over thirty years, or so I'm told. I was snowed into my house due to the fact that visibility was limited to about five feet. two people died. Froze to death I'm told. Everywhere in saskatoon closed down, and many many people had to stay at such hotels as "sobey's", "costco" and more.

Priorities shifting perceptions and people.

Funny story, on new years, I spoke with some random woman outside and after about 20 minutes of some of my best ranting, she was literally holding her head. About ten minutes after our conversation, though be it a little one sided, one of her friends, after I said hello to her, quickly responded by telling me not to say anything to her because I fucked up her friends head. I don't know how to feel about this, I'm a little proud, a little shameful and a little impressed.

Today, on the drive home, listening to the streets, I realized that my priorities in life have changed completely during 2006. I am now mostly focused on furthering my education and making money, where I succeed; which is unlike last year in that; last year, my main priority was fun, where I succeeded. I'm curious now as to how much of this is due to my "growing up", and how much of a good thing these priority shifts are.