Tuesday, August 16, 2011


I think I might get a tumblr account. Looking through pages and pages of lost memories and posts is really fucking unnerving. I forgot about it for a while, and then I just came back to the blog and I see a bunch of black squares with exclamation points where pictures are supposed to be and I start to think, "What the fucking fuck!?"

Thank God for that word sometimes. For words at all. I think if I went far back enough on the blog I might find, (IF blogger has yet to implode the post) a video link of Frank Zappa talking about the power of language and words. He was right. And I'm proud to be a free-thinking, speech-spinning, American Born blogger with very little concern for what offense the reader...yes, you, my solo creepy reader...might take to the occasional F-Bomb, or S-H word, or otherwise. Pick a letter, follow it up with the word "word", and chances are that I have dropped it here on the Evolution a time or two, and that's the point of the whole thing right this very minute, is that THIS moment is the EXACT moment in time that is now and is worthy of a word that so perfectly describes my disdain for the fact that my posts have been diminished and become of less consequence or significance because the pictures have almost all just disappeared. And sorry, there's no better way to put it than that it's simply kinda F'ed up. The more I fade into the future, the more the reality sets in that they aren't going to magically re-appear, and my Doogie Howseresque diary of sorts (Fuck you, too, Austin), is but a glimmer of the blog that it once was, it could have been, it never will be. Oh well.

Truth be told, it's probably better that I learn to stand upright in my shit talking posture, leaning not against the crutch of pretty pictures, or a joke that can only be told in the wordless thousand words that are captured in a millisecond. I'll leave that work for the photogs, and the tumblr peeps, and maybe, just MAYBE I'll start one of my own...if I ever get off the box long enough to quit crying and start posting pictures of stuff I like. Like everyone else does. MOSTLY just other people's shit, to be quite honest! The more I think about it, most of the pictures I see on other people's tumblr's (is that srrsly how you spell it, btw? wtf!) are of stuff they didn't make, think of, or even photograph! Gosh, the more time I spend ranting about it the more I am beginning to think that the written word is where it's at and all you fools living in Tumbler Land...that's the way it's spelled, THAT's the way I WOULD SPELL IT...you fooooools all think you are putting something out there into the world that represents you or what you dream about or what you WILL do or WOULD do and by that attachment somehow, some WAY you are actually creating something!! (Not you, Hodges, I just realized this is beginning to get a little racey here, and you post a lot of vanity photos, sure, but mostly funny stuff, and you actually do have a little bit of talent to back it up, so pardon my aside, but I wanted to clear your name before proceeding to say) YOU ARE CREATING ABOUT AS MUCH AS A 7 YEAR OLD MAKING A COLLAGE WITH PASTE AND SCISSORS AND PEOPLE MAGAZINE!!! Seriously, I think I'll have Sean grab a bunch of my mags and a pair of scissors, and I'll see what HE COMES UP WITH and I'll call it an experiment into the tumblr thing, because that's how interesting I find it to be when I'm studying your page which studies everyone else's page studying celebrities, and models, and on occasion a picture of an ACTUAL WRITER! Well, not that you KNEW he was a writer, but he had a cool beard, and the picture must have used a cool filter like Lord Kelvin or whatever, so it looks all olde-tymey and stuff, and OMG LOOK...it's another shot of Ryan Gosling...better PUT IT ON MY TUMBLEBLOG!!!

Yeah, after further consideration, I will be sticking to this pathetic excuse for what used to be a blog full of oft-beautiful content, and do my god DAMNDEST to make it interesting from here on out. With WORDS! With content from inside my brain. Or at least, if it's truly content from within someone else's brain, I'll do my best to give credit where credit is due. So THANK YOU, fucking FRANK ZAPPA for telling it like is was and still is, and THANK YOU Ernie Hemingway for not really giving two shits, and THANKS MOM AND DAD for making me the way I am, and THANKS Uncle 'Trick for sticking to your writing guns and always giving the shout outs when I needed them, and THANKS siblings for reading the blog even though 33.3% of you really thinks I should tone it down a bunch, but mostly A THANKYA JEYSUS for inventing the Internet, computers and cocaine, 2 of which I am using right now, and I won't say which. If you have to ask yourself "Is he serious?" you have totally proved yourself to be a qualified candidate for tumblr. Again, Hodges, not you...your's is cool.

Did I thank Austin again? He was, after all, the one who showed me the Doogie Howser mirror and made my smile vanish into the ether yet again, like so many times in the past 25 years...you have a gift. Keep reading anyway...I like your shit talk. I feel like we are doing it right now...a dialogue stretched out over time, my understanding that I am not truly insane and speaking to myself supported by the occasional, brief, and mostly uninteresting anonymous comment you like to leave. And the one time a year you get drunk and call me. I know you have a kid now, but I still expect some shit talk...you owe me a phone call anyway, so I'll talk to you soon. YOU've been called out.

That's what this is, anyway...a dialogue. That's what all of the great writers did and do and will continue to do is keep pushing forward, keep inventing or re-inventing, or describing or articulating the way it was, is, might be, should be, never will be...it's one big, long conversation that spans the ages, and when done with creativity, consideration, and originality, can stand the test of all tests...to be timeless...to live on immortal. And who of us shall really be so lucky, who of us shall write that which will be great!? As I sit, stewing over lost pictures and time, I realize that it shall not in fact make me any less great. I will not fear greatness, because whether I was born with it, I achieve it, or I have it thrust upon me, it will be mine. I didn't really invent that last part, by the way, I saw it on a picture on a tumblr blog. It speaks to me. But the real point is that even if it is not greatness from within, I will do my best to edify the greatness I see around me, in my kids, my friends, my enemies and the strange passers-by...in all the world there is this greatness, and I will continue to do my best to elevate it here on the Evolution.

And I'll call it a day for now. This has been a rant.


mohap247 said...

I like you.

'tricko said...

JAYzzzzzUSSS be puh-RAYYYYuzzzzz'd!

Mighty fine rant, Bri', whether you've recanted in the legal dock of the Almighty Tumbl'Net or not. You are most definitely NOT one of those who think "rant" is the past tense of "run" . . .

I don't know the entire backstory of what lit your torch, but I like the light it's throwing around this dark-filled world of the InterWebNets. Wherever you land, keep it going, and good luck recovering whatever you can from what apparently got 86'd (ask your Uncle Paul what that means; I was going to say ask your Grandpa O'D, but. . . well) from this blog o' yours.

And one more thing: The word verification challenge for me in posting this comment is, appropriately enough, "WEENAS" -- I'll let you decide whether to take that as "victors" . . . or as "scummy little low lifes."

Your pick.

Ellen said...

"baby I need your lovin'"