Saturday, January 26, 2008

Is this blog going to shit? On the contrary. It is the shit.

I had written of 2pac, Aristotle, and Voltaire -- but never the trip itself. I had crossed and reminisced over great intellectual chasms, fjords, and small, nearly land-locked streams leading to even smaller pools of reminiscence filled with runoff from a nearby reminiscence glacier -- without having told you of our own travels throughout this world. To which god's oblivion have the great travel logs of yore succumbed? (Those mighty tomes through which a hand could touch mountains, caress a dear -- gone).

The trip is the blog, and the blog is the trip, lest we not forget dear reader.

Lest we not forget.

Oh, dear reader, I had become shame. And shame is for the penniless and transgendered. Let shame find its way into the hearts of beggars and Cher replicas, but not I.

Brian is a poor slanderer. Brian is a cross-dresser.

Which brings us to the laser light show.

Was it not I, tender fool, who first alerted you to the great Radio Head light spectacle? Was it not I, soon-to-be-abandoned traveler, who openly craved a show drawing only the most sophisticated of Seattle's stoned middle schoolers?

The choir of heaven sings "yes!"

But your blasphemy sings "no!"

Why would I, a lover of all things majestic, forgo a chance to partake in a torrent of dazzling laser light effects synchronized with a groundbreaking 90's alternative sound?

Heaven intones once more, crying, "Nay, he has asked the unanswerable. Let us entreat him to enter through the Gates of the Lord."

Exactly! Brian you are wrong! See what they're saying? And hear them calling you a punk-bitch too? I do.

I do, dear reader.

So let the house that is glass not cast the first stone, for it shall inherit the earth. Let, conversely, the bush bird silence the falling tree in the wood, for it is of a meek nature, and deserving of a meaty, black-bird pie.

Much more than Brian could ever say about Seattle later.


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