It's not what you say, it's how you say it.

I was on my way home from a Paturday night (for those of you not in the industry of Saskatoon's dining establishments, that's a saturday night at the Pat), when I had a revalation. Which was strange due, in part, to the fact that I was in no condition to drive, let alone drive, air drum to lateralus, ponder and dance....This is a sight to behold, especially if you don't know what I'm capable of while driving -wink-.

I decided that something that'd I'd heard all my life was true. The saying that my title reflects, which I've heard every time I was unsure why someone was mad at something I said that I believed to be completely innocent. But, I always assumed that people were referring to the tone of things that are said rather than the actual words chosen to get said point across.

I decided that I can now, with my mastery of the english language (both written and spoken, though mostly spoken) I can get almost any point across and make it pleasant sounding, or at the very least neutral. Meaning, that it's not the content of what you're saying that's extremely important but the wording that you use to illustrate this content. I'm not going to let into any of the words/phrases/letters that I believe to be the most "pleasant", because that would take away from my edge.

I was out on a drive, on a bit of a TRIP!

So, as I sit here pondering what to do/where to go on my extra time holiday that may or not be surrounding the self-proclaimed holiday that represents the birth of a man who's status was literally elevated to that of god-among-men; an idea comes to me...

Why not just hop in the car and go somewhere? But where?

Is there somewhere that I could go that would be more fun than anywhere else? Why, yes there really is: Mexico...but, I can't really afford that shit right now...

Oh, I should be in PG for New Years....SHOULD. Throw me a party.

Um, Walks on the River, Mathematical religion, and Tripping over nothing.

So, I met some dude. His name is unimportant. I know that's a really strange name, but that's what it is, all right...That's what it is.

Well, we worked together, hung out a bit, and I found out that he's a flailer.

We did a quad and walked up and down and up and down and up and down and over the river. It was rediculously fun. Then, he decided at about 1200 that it was time for him to go home.

So, with nowhere to go, I decided that I'd do the same. Worste idea I've ever had, I laid in my bed for hours, terrified of the things around me that were becoming steadily more realistic. From my inability to think a good thought to my inability to close my eyes for more than 30 seconds, it was terrible.

Then, a few short hours later, and about a wink and a half of sleep, it was time to go to class. Philosophy. It was perfect, and in fact, was one of the only classes of that class that I actually understood. That's all for now.

Ontological Argument

A being than which none greater can be thought. (Conceived)

In Philosiphy class, I had this explained to me as a proof or argument as to the existence of god. After pondering it for quite some time, I realized that it must be true. And to my great dismay, I began to renounce my athiest ways. For, by definition, a being than which none greater can be though must exist. Because if you imagine this great being, and imagine that it does not exist, there is a being that must be greater. Imagine the same being but imagine it existing, that being would be greater than the original being, therefore the original being was NOT a being than which none greater can be thought...Because I just thought of one.

Then, I pondered this a little more and thought that the greatest thing that this being could do was reveal itself to me. And, by this argument's own argument, I disproved it that simply. Because, if only to me, I thought that a being with all these great characteristics that revealed itself to me would be greater, and since this being has not physically revealed itself to me, I must conclude this argument incomplete. Also, universal belief in this being would be pretty great, and I think this being would have to have the belief of all thinking creatures for it to be a being than which none greater can be thought.

I'm going to kiss and tell...the truth.

First off, I'd like to that Mr. Steven Colbert for that quote. There will never be a man that holds as much respect (from me) in the world (of news).

Actually, that was completely unnecissary.

Let's get down to brass tacks. This is a tale about a young(ish) man who did something that he's not too proud of. And, I (he) knows the only person he can really talk to is....um, well somewhere else.

Last night, I went to the bar with a woman that I fancy quite a lot. One might say I'm infatuated, others might say it's an animal lust, and still others might say that god exists. They'd almost all be true.

Sorry, last night I went to the bar with someone I fancy quite a lot. We've been flirting back and forth at work, with the unnecissary physical contact, prolonged eye contact and the rest of the steps that fall into the ritualistic dance that is the forced akward intimate situation known as dating, or more accurately the week or so leading up to dating. All signs were pointing to yes, including two huge blue neon one's. Damn, those eyes.

So, we're at the bar, dancing away. (for I know she could only resist for so long once the dancing started). We're dancing away, when she asks me to go for a smoke and leads me outside. "Oh goody" I think as I follow. But to my dismay (in hindsight, to my great joy) there's no vehicular sex involved, only talking. The talking is of a young man, another young man. One that she's been dating for 2 years.

There aren't words to describe how I felt. Crushed by the gravitational weight of a thousand icy-cold suns might be the best possible english depiction of how I felt. Couple that with a hundred memories that instantly confused the shit out of me. Why dance with me when you already have a permanent partner? I am good though. Sorry.

Now, the alcohol lessened this blow slightly, so I finished my smoke and went inside to dance again. For there is nothing on earth that can hurt me when I'm dancing. Any emotion I feel is overshadowed by the flow. It consumes me. And, the bar we were at was like a gathering place for dancers. I made a bit of a spash.

So, I'm dancing away when she comes back and decides that she'd still like to dance with me. Really dance this time, not emotional hell-like dancing. So we're dancing away and happened to make eye contact. I don't know why I did it, I was drunk after all. Maybe it was to prove a point, maybe to see what kind of person she really was, but I kissed her. Long and well. It was a nearly perfect kiss. Then, I just up and left the bar without saying a word.

The main reason that I did this post was so that I'd have another post in here as I haven't been posting very much, but it's also because it's the first time I've ever kissed someone that was dating someone else that I was aware of.

And in doing so, I've been attempting to figure out who's to blame here aside from me, because when it boils down to it; isn't she as much at fault as me? If not more? And furthermore Susan, I wouldn't be the least bit surprised to learn that all four of them habitually smoke marijuana cigarettes. Reefers.

Where was I?

I awoke to find myself in an empty car in the middle of a gravel road. It was sweltering inside the vehicle that didn't belong to me. Looking around I realized the car wasn't the only thing that didn't belong to me.

Sitting beside me was an older woman. And with absolutely no recollection of who she was, I decided that I'd done at least something sexual with the girl.

And there was an odour. Some smell that I couldn't quite place but a smell that led me to recall terrifying memories of some fog-covered plain where a battle had been. A battle unlike any that I had ever seen. Friend blindly fighting friend for a prize that could not be seen or touched. A prize that wasn't there. The prize of faith. For it was in the winner that these people would put their faith, blind once again to the ignorance of their squandor and the hopelessness of their situations.

For, if I remember correctly, I was meant to win but somehow couldn't do it. I realized that when these people declared their faith in me, I would instantly change into that which I had hated and rose up against from the start.

And, the woman sitting beside me understood this. But she didn't know it yet. Just as I didn't.

3 days

Until:

3 days until I see the greatest band ever.

Tool. I can barely wait, and be prepared for another acid-inspired, semi-religious based post upon my return.

As per the Roses request.

There are some things that most people should never ignore. The need to urinate and/or fecate, a desire to eat and drink and a request from anyone with the last name Rose.

There's a reason that I don't have any posts in here, mostly because I haven't been home much. I'm literally home just enough that I may wash my nazi military uniform so that I may go to war with a clean one every day. Fortunately, however, I have been sleeping. I've found a cure for insomnia. Christie.

Since no one wants to hear me drone on and on about some woman from work that I'm currently infatuated with, I'll go through a typical day instead.

I roll out of bed at about 1pm every day. Don't be fooled, this isn't laziness that you are "witnessing", it's necessity as you are soon about to find out. All right, I roll out of bed, get up and watch "The Daily Show" and "The Colbert Report"which I have automatically recorded on TiVo and enjoy a cup of coffee from my french press. (which I am doing right now).

When I hear the buzzer from the washer go off, I shuffle over (I save all my strutting for work) and switch the laundry and go back to the computer or my lovely TiVo. After sitting there for a full dryer cycle, it's time to get ready for work, which takes a little bit less time every day.

I pack my Tool backpack with everything that I'm going to need for the day. A change of clothes for after work, smokes, a lighter, 200 dollars cash, my cell phone and "the cell" by Steven King, just to remind myself how easy it is for the entire world to all die at once.

Then, I simply drive to work.

Once at work I wait tables. And, who'd have thought; I'm very, very good at waiting tables. It's like my sense of humor, rediculous sales skills and animal magnetism all work to my advantage in this setting instead of against me as in other labour-based professions.

So, while rakin in on average of a hundred bucks a night in tips, one would wonder what I do with it all. Well, most wouldn't wonder, but I just said that ONE would wonder what I'd do with it all. He or she can keep wondering.

I go out.

Every night after work. For the most part, and get some hookers and blow. Just kidding. Seriously though, we usually just either sit in the moxie's lounge and have some beverages, or go to one of the other many lounges in and around Saskatoon. From there, we've been known to go to the hotel rooms where the moxie's trainers are staying and party there until the mid-range hours of the morning.

6am is my average home time, so you can see why I sleep in so late. It's because I've inverted my sleeping patterns. I love it, and Tess, you would too. I only see the sun for about an hour every day.

I can't sleep

Insomnia. When you have it, you're never really asleep and you're never really awake. Everything is just a copy of a copy of a copy. Reality melds with the dream world. You hear things that weren't said. You see the world as though you are looking at it through the eyes of a pet goldfish. Nothing seems as though it could be, yet everything has more being than it seems. Thoughts jumble inside the head as though you have no control over them. Emotions? Ha, I go from feeling nothing about everything to feeling everything about nothing. It's brutal.

It's not that I have anything better to do than sleep. Lately, I've just been laying in bed staring at the cieling or at nothing at all. Appearing dead to the world. My eyes being closed helps nothing. I simply lie there. For hours. It's excruciating, so I get up, read a book, or watch a movie or some bad late night television.

I say things that I shouldn't say. With my mental filter gone, all the things that I've "learned" not to say, I say. Things that offend. Things that shock. Things that put that "you're fucked" look on people's faces. Things I mean is what I'm getting at I suppose, though I haven't decided whether or not this is necissarily a bad thing or not. I mean, what's wrong with saying what you mean? Besides the fact, of course, that we've been taught our whole lives (especially men) to not say what we mean, feel, or actually intend. Choosing for a course of speach that leaves little to offend and even less to understand.

Unfortunately, I look like shit. Though be it asthetically pleasing shit, it's shit none the less. The bags under my eyes were checked at airport security and it took me two and a half weeks to convince them that they weren't full of heroin. Also, my memory and spacial abilities leave a lot to be desired. That combined with my slightly askew sense of perception makes waiting tables extremely difficult. And, I'm ranting. At work. To tables of innocent people and co-workers alike. It's giving people the impression that I'm wierd. Which I am, but in a setting like moxie's, which is essentially every good looking person from high school in one place, you can imagine what they're reaction is. Any straying from the status quo is strictly forbidden and harshly judged and "corrected". By both my "peers" and "management staff".

I've tried everything too, soothing music, chewing on honey comb, home remedies, Tea, babbling brook sounds. Nothing helps. I refuse to resort to perscription or over the counter meds as well as alcohol because they do not correct the problem and I haven't taken any over the counter meds in about 8 months. Just because, well, I don't know how much good they can really be doing us, and I'm fit as a fiddle. C'ept this damn not sleeping business.

Looks like the old blog is going to get some lovin, which it hasen't really been lately. And, I was accepted to U of S, and start on Sept. 6th, which means that I'll have a ton of time to study, but won't be able to remember any of it the second that I close my books.

The non-conformist, sarcastic, smart-ass, tool loving stoner

This is some brutal fuckin shit. 13 days of finding out how many grams of chicken there are in every Moxies resturaunt in western canada. Then you take that number, divide it by the number of Chicken tandori ricebowls there are to find out how many ounces each one contains. But, before we get to learn about the menu, we have our "uniform check" which consists of all of us lining up like cattle, then being individually "checked" or "strictly and mercilessly torn apart" by the poorly dressed, messy haired, extra-ordinarily ordinary looking, bitchy coach woman.

I don't handle this well (no matter how good I look), as they try to get me to do things like "lose the faux-hawk", and "youre lip ring might not fit into the regulations for facial piercings", and always the "did you shave today?"...Though, at every possible chance, they are telling us how much they "still want us to keep our individuality and be ourselves", to which I snicker and the response is "Just, the best possible version of yourselves".

WHAT?! Hail Hitler. There's a small group of us, I call us "the smart ones". That's all I really wanted to say. There's a very small group of people there that actually have a head on their shoulders. Sad to say. But, at the same time happy, as it is infinitly times better than being the only non-conformist, sarcastic, smart-ass, tool loving stoner in the group....And that's a pretty narrow category.

Self-Loathing

Well, that title may have been a bit inappropriate, but I thought that it was fun to type, and may lead more people to read this. It's not as though I care one way or another who happens to read my "Insert Blog Title Here" blog on blogger.com...Which is the best site on the internet ever, and can be found at http://www.blogger.com. The preceeding message was brought to you by blogger.com which may or may not share some or all of the opinions or views written here.

I've been depressed lately. And I don't mean, "Hey, I'm a little depressed today" I mean I'm in a state of catatonic despair that's lasted almost three days and I'm unable to find the source. Now, some of you might be saying that this is an underlying (or overstanding) psychological condition that has both a name and treatment, but I believe there still must be a trigger.

Could it be my new job? Perhaps, the fact that the Moxies corporate staff who have stated that they encourage "individualism" are fucking liars. There's like a checklist of about 10-20 traits that everyone in my fuckin training class fit into. Well, the women anyway. I think they just hire the males to do all of the heavy lifting because you couldn't classify the FIVE of us into one mold. there's two "bigger" guys, obviously hired as they would be no threat to new waitresses. One long-haired, skrangly kid, that's obviously hired as a busboy (which he knows and has stated. Cool kid), a giant that's obviously got the bartender position as he has a "flavour saver" (see below), and myself (Insert brief physical description if you would like).

Could it be the fact that I MISS MY FUCKING FRIENDS? Yes, I'm sure that might have some small part to play in it. Or some immense part. See, it's not that I think that no one misses me, for it's been stated that they do, and I see no reason for all of them (you) to lie to me. For I believe that you do, but that's now making it worse. For, I know that if I up and left Saskatoon right now. Right this very second. Only one person would notice and moreover care that I was gone. My mother. Love her to death. But, she's not exactly going to smoke a doob with me and go over "Super Troopers" quotes with me and explain to some random why it's the best movie ever made.

Could it be that I haven't done anything fun since Motion Notion (best weekend ever)? Yes, I'm sure that I'm suffering a bit of cabin fever, and I feel a small sense of fear at the idea of leaving the house. Maybe I'll become a shut in, I think that'd be fun. With the yelling of people and throwing cats and whatnot. I've vowed to go out tonight, I know that bottled fun isn't quite the same as real fun, but when combined with smoke-able fun and sex with a stranger, it's close enough and sure to ease some of this tension (not the right word, but it worked) that I've been having to deal with on my own.

Writing this out made me feel worlds better. And what kind of saying is that? Worlds better? That's stupid.

*Note: Flavour saver: Type of facial hair located between the center of the lower lip and the chin, made popular in my circle by one Lil' Dave.

My spare time

I was google-ing myself today, an activity which takes up much of my time, and came across these things, enjoy.

The BrandonBrown Doll
http://www.hasbro.com/default.cfm?page=browse&product_id=14086

My life as a lover
http://detumescence.com/e-books/brandon-brown/

A video I apparantly made
http://video.google.com/videoplay?docid=1946860048873187940

Something I did in Cindy Crawford's house
http://www.roomstogo.com/index.cfm?fuseaction=showItem&ipac_id=9487&fc_cid=cid810

My additions to the Urban Dictionary
http://www.urbandictionary.com/author.php?author=Brandon+Brown

My honorary Canadian Citizenship papers
http://www.jenn.com/canadian/cert.cgi?name=Brandon+Brown

Some quotes
http://en.thinkexist.com/quotes/brandon_brown/

I'mma big city lawyers
http://pview.findlaw.com/view/3231902_1?noconfirm=0

Please don't kill me
http://web.amnesty.org/library/index/engAMR510102002?open&of=eng-2am

Vote for Brandon Brown
http://herndon1.sdrdc.com/cgi-bin/com_detail/C00400325
http://www.evote.com/players_section/candidates2004/SC_Brown_15080.asp

I miss...

I miss my friends, first and foremost, they're my chosen family. I love you all.

I miss being able to say what I wanted when I wanted, with the only one consequence: someone else saying what they wanted about what I'd just said.

I miss being able to walk into someone's house without knocking. Sometimes this had some interesting consequences, but I miss it none the less.

I miss knowing where people would be at certain times of certain days. At about 4:15 everyday, everyone in the cote' residence would be down in the garage. Between 11am and about 6pm on sunny days, the people could be found at Fort George, not Connaught, fuckin connaught. There are no parks here.

I miss knowing what's going on. Like, what the fuck's going on here tonight? I don't know.

I miss being able to walk wherever I wanted to go. It actually takes longer to drive some places here than to walk to most in the P dot.

I miss people that know how to fucking party.

I miss my favorite families in the world.

I miss me in PG.

Where have my thoughts gone?

Usually, I would have already filled this space with thoughts regarding the nature of existence, or my own self-diagnosi of my seemingly endless list of mental conditions that I may or may not actually have. But, lately I've been unable to produce, why is this?

TITLE

Intellectual side (spelled correct?) ??, no for I use too many different kinds of .... damn what's the word... punctuation, yeah that's it, man that took a while. Damn comma splices and run-on sentences put me in a class of grammar all my own; lets call it: Brammar. Yeah, just so that I get my name in something else....What? Nothing.

I had a fun weekend this weekend, went to the old lakesbie, played some beersbie, and saw some people that I hadn't seen in about 10 years, t'was quite random.

This blog, as many that preceeded it had no purpose, storyline AKA plot, or meaning.

Letter To Talis While Stoned at 1230 Named Like a Random Painting

Hey,

Haven't talked to tal in a while, heard she went to Whistler or something. No more ... um, fourth person I think that was. How the hell's Whistler, I think that's where you are. Oh, HEY...HI.... Email me back though, I love getting emails....Like regular letters in the mail, only faster and less personal...I wish I could handwrite email, and like draw pictures and stuff, that'd be great. I got a new job, cause my last one wouldn't let me work while going to school, so I serve at moxies. I bought a new car also, and just realized that I love making really drastic changes to my life in a short period of time. Know what else? I saw the northern lights tonight, and I"m stoned and went swimming earlier. I had hamburgers for dinner and swimming was fun. That might be the most random thing I've ever said. Bye.

Missin pepe's is:
BrandonBrown

P.S. Haha, pepe's

The northern lights.

I just saw the coolest northern lights ever. I know they were because I've seen the northern lights every time they've happened ever, and this time was the coolest by far. But, what's their gig?

Hmmm

As this is the fist time I've tried this here "blog", or wait, no it's just the first time I've used bloggER, is it more blog? Is that what they're getting at?

I wrote this blog just so I'd write it and then when I'm finished I'll have written one. Just to try out the ol new space. Don't expect any great insight into myself or life. In fact, you're still reading this and are unable to stop even though you know that this blog is about nothing.