Brian's Thoughts About Airplanes
Brian Spaeth's Dot Com Website Blog
From the category archives:
Okay, so this is my first post from the WordPress app on the Google Nexus One Excitement Phone, so bear with me.
I’ve been meaning to try this for awhile but only now got around to it.
That last sentence seemed awkward.
So did that one.
It’s kinda hard to write like this – everything feels like it should be Tweet-length from the phone, plus my hands hurt from playing Home Run Battle 3-D all night on this.
Cavs in 5 – that pic is a tease at the shoulder tattoo fix.
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“Hey, what time is it where you are?”
This is what I asked everyone I saw yesterday at the store.
Even when I would see two people together, I’d ask one person, and then ask the person they were with the same thing.
One time, both people answered, and I looked at them in a confused manner, checked the time on my phone, and then removed the confusion from my face.
I showed them the phone, which was set to a different time zone than theirs.
It was a double paradox confusion – not only did it appear we were in different time zones, but there was still no reason for me to ask both of them.
When this all happened, I was seeing Clash of Some Titans, so I wasn’t even in a store at all, but a movie theater.
This is why the couple was confused, and I convinced them the time had changed during the movie, and they better get with some daylight savings.
I wrote this (including picture) in exactly 3:57, proving that anyone has time to keep their blog updated.
That’s actually a really good idea for a blog – like fourminuteblog.com or something. I hate my brain, ugh.
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Sometimes I’ll see things that I think I must have created in Photoshop during my sleeptime and then put out there (also during sleeptime) for me to find during the day.
For example:
There’s a depth of concept here wherein everyone can take their own meaning home – to try and explain it would ruin it.
Another note from Twitter – this morning I said:
I don’t understand how peopleeatingipods.com is still available.
about 2 hours ago
Which inspired the following from @waffle1317:
@brianspaeth I don’t understand what you do all day
about 2 hours ago
Look, I don’t totally understand it either, but I feel like analyzing it too hard will make it stop happening.
It’s my greatest fear. You think I’m kidding, but I’m not.
Every night I go to bed wondering if tomorrow is the day I stop randomly thinking about websites based on people eating their ipods, and then admitting in public forums I was doing that.
Blessings, curses, etc.
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Old pal @robertcarroll Tweeted this up, and it’s like my new favorite thing.
A lot of times I come across stuff that I wish I had thought of.
It’s not often where I’m like, “That’s just beyond my thought-based capabilities…WOWEE!!”
This is one of those. I love that it’s that it’s totally not telling a story, but it makes you feel like it is.
I guess just progression/escalation of the situation. Anyway, watch it.
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If you’ve read my stuff for any length of time, you know the vividly horrific story behind my shoulder tattoo, and my embarrassed self-loathing I do at myself whenever anyone sees it.
If you’re new or whatever, this is it, all oiled up and stuff for you.
The time has come, at long last, to finish this mistake once and for all.
I’ve talked to people several times over the years about what to do about this monstrosity.
The removal options are bad – since it’s been done three times already and there’s scarring to boot, it just won’t look right.
I asked one tattoo artist about putting a roman numeral XIV over it, the rationale being that I could make up different stories every time someone asked me about the deep, hidden meaning of my ancient number tattoo.
This wasn’t going to be doable either, and every other tattoo artist suggested things that just wouldn’t work for me.
I always make this clear before these conversations – my number one option would be for it to not be there at all anymore.
Starting from there, I’m not sure how these people come to, “How about like a cool snake that’s on fire and goes from your shoulder all the way around your chest, and then is flowing into a skull that’s on your back, and it’s the skull of a naked booty stripper?”
Anyway, after many years and much thought, I am giving up…and that’s what this new version of the tattoo will represent.
Inevitably, someone will try and make it artistic or special or whatever.
No, no, nay, nay, booty.
I don’t want it planned or artistic or meaningful – I want it to look like someone scribbled over it in frustration…like which is what I feel about it with my special heart that is inside me.
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So I am very close to getting my Nexus One SuperPhone, and in preparation for that – as well as recuperation from WSM? – I am going away for a couple weeks.
I also have a script to finish that requires some underwater research – eliminating all distractions and not getting electrocuted is essential.
No blog posts.
No instant messaging.
No Facebook.
No Twitter.
I even deleted UberTwitter from my phone – frankly I need to rethink the manner in which I personally use Twitter altogether.
Anyway, I’ll see you on or around Monday February 22nd – of course I’ll have email, but like I might be deleting every third message just as a kind of sport or game of chance with myself.
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(This was in a Google Search for “dirt mine”. Would love to know what’s happening.)
Normally I’m not into this sentimental type of thing unless I’m listening to Dido, but this one’s for charity, and I was hanging out by myself listening to Dido last night.
Thus, my tears arrived and I began to feel emotion for the people being helped by this Tweetsgiving movement.
Thanks to @jeannevb and @CTK1 for bringing this at me.
Anyway, here are 397 things I’m thankful for. In no particular order…
- lamps
- @NDEddieMac
- Dustin Pearlman
- cold air fusion (speculative)
- My special book-selling technique that only I know
- LeBron’s 2007 season
- Google Documents
- That I can type “LOL!” and get away with it as performance art irony
- Brad Radby
- My outstanding Athens, Ohio arrest warrant
- Rebecca Blum
- Dancing With the Booty Stars
- @iamboney
- Twitter
- Atlas Shrugged
- The guy at Borders who used the phrase “long-haired alcoholic”, because I don’t know what that means but it’s now in my phrasical lexicon.
- When I see that something I made up entered someone else’s phrasical lexicon.
- phrasical lexicons
- Jasmine James
- @alexiskn
- That you’re realizing that you will indeed read all 397 at this point
[Like here is how to read the rest.]
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(This screengrab is from Flickr.)
Awhile back my friend @JessicaRandazza told me I should sign up for this newsletter called Tut’s Universe Adventure Fun or whatever.
You get like a daily quasi-inspirational message like this.
Brian, if you don’t dream big, I can’t scheme big. Does that pretty much settle things?
- The Universe
I’m not against stuff like this, but this morning I unsubscribed. This is what I put in the “why did you do that” box.
The use of my name in the message just creeps me out for some reason. Also I dislocated my shoulder this weekend. :(
I can’t decide if I’m out of line or not. That’s really all I got – see, I had something on my schedule called “B23 POST (NOT ABOUT WSM?)”.
For real though, it was messing me up, cause sometimes it would be like this.
Let me tell you something, Brian, about how motion of action processes in the cosmos.
That was creeping me out because I was like, “Wow what kind of world do we live in where they can Find/Paste right to the middle of sentences like that.
Should I have unsubscribed or not and why.
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Look at this eagle, it’s running running running,
Look at this eagle, it may be a hawk!
Look at this eagle, it’s running running running,
Look at this eagle, I wonder if he talk!
Talk eagle talk!
Say something good!
Talk eagle talk!
Do you drink blued!
Look at this eagle, it’s running running running,
Look at this eagle, it has strong legs!
Look at this eagle, it’s running running running,
Look at this eagle, I wonder if he talk!
Talk eagle talk!
Talk about your running!
Talk eagle talk!
I wonder if he talk!
Do you think the eagle can talk and what do you think it would say if it could. Also, is it actually just a hawk that thinks it’s an eagle.
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I spent a good four or five hours in a Borders on Saturday, reading my own book, Prelude to a Super Airplane.
(My ego isn’t that crazy – something I’m working on has a a few loose tie-ins, and I wanted to make sure my continuity wasn’t getting screwy.
That said, I’ve read it purely for pleasure something like 27 times.)
In any case, I didn’t get much reading actually done, since the two elderly ladies over my knee there spent lengthy amounts of time talking about the merits of Nick Cannon, whom one of them referred to as, “that colored fella from America’s Talent Show“.
As if that – and my need to IM everything I was hearing to a friend – wasn’t enough, at a tumultuous moment, the following seven people came in and sat at a nearby table.
- white female/21
- white male/52
- latino male/16
- white male/28
- white male/48
- latino female/58
- white female/35
This was an amazingly odd grouping of people, because they didn’t seem to know each other at all.
Book club? No books.
Parent-teacher thing? No – there was a lot of introductory conversation, and the mix wasn’t right.
Fellow Nick Cannon enthusiasts? No mention of Nick Cannon.
It was really starting to bother me – there were no logical scenarios.
My IM companion said I should go sit down and apologize for being late, which I considered, along with simply asking them, “WHO ARE YOU AND WHY ARE YOU HERE, YOU SOBs. ALSO DO YOU WANT TO BUY MY BOOK.”
You may think I wouldn’t do this – I assure you I would, minus the SOB-calling and book-selling.
I didn’t have to though, because the 16-year old boy was squeezing the 21-year old girl’s leg under the table. She smiled, and had braces – I reasoned she wasn’t 22 at all, but rather 15 or 16 herself.
Then a flurry of info came forth – 35-year old whitey has infertility issues. She said this with a conviction and volume that amazed the entire cafe section. 52-year old white male runs down his family’s health history.
Adoption and “staying in the baby’s life” are discussed.
28-year old whitey – now reasoned to be in his mid-30s – tries to discuss Madden 2010 with the boy. He’s full of wonderment about how, “All the real players are in the game now…wow, how neat.” Buddy, they had that 20 years ago when you were growing up – did you only play Metroid and Zelda.
In any case…these teens were pregnant, and having a nice meeting about giving the baby away.
At BORDERS.
By the way, if you go to that Borders, there’s now a signed copy of PTSA randomly placed in the Cooking section. Where would you have your baby-momma adoption meeting.
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