Category: Jon Brasfield and Amanda Richardson

Right now people searching for breakdancing videos still comprise the vast majority of my bandwidth users. That’s just not right, and we should fix it. But how, you say? By shooting breakdancers. The end!

Oh, and also: Jon’s got a new EP out, and you can download it! It’s called West State Line and it’s amazing to hear his music finally given the pro treatment it deserves. There are snares and backing vocals and even a little bit of string! Let’s listen to it together! I’ll make popcorn! I will also make calf eyes at you.

My favorite parts so far are Ghost Town, especially the bridge, and Meg White, which needs to be an indie anthem.

I like movies. Sometimes, I hate movies, because I realize that hundreds of people spent a year of their lives each, along with tens of millions of dollars, making Son of the Mask. But I really do like them in general, even the kind of movies that wins Oscars. If I was in high school and Mr. Munson took two days out of Multicultural Literature (it was a great class, title notwithstanding) to have us watch Hotel Rwanda, I would be moved by it. I would tell my friends about it and do research to find out more about the situation. I would value the experience.

But if I’m sitting at home with nothing to do and I’m like “hey, let’s rent or go to a movie,” there’s no way I’m going to pick Hotel Rwanda. I just don’t hate myself that much. As a result, I never watch great movies and David Clark embarrasses me in Team Movie Pong.

Since my solution to many of my personal flaws is rigorous scheduling, here’s my idea: Sad And Happy Movie Day. Maybe one or two Saturdays a month, I’d get together with other humans (assuming I could trick anybody else into it) and two movies. One would be a great, depressing film about human nature, like Hotel Rwanda or Dancer in the Dark* or Boys Don’t Cry or The Mission. The other would be a goofy big-Hollywood popcorn flick, like Ocean’s Twelve or The Scorpion King. Maybe something chop-socky like Ong Bak, or something happy-indie like Garden State. Maybe Hackers, the foremost cinematic achievement of all time.

We would watch the sad movie first, and sit there slumped over, realizing that all human hope is a doomed, brief match-flare against the endless dark. We’d take a half-hour break to make popcorn and go get some Sourpatch Kids. We’d walk it off a little. Then we’d pop in the happy movie, laugh and ooh, karate-chop the couch and go home feeling generally not suicidal.

This is not something I will likely start soon, and if it does start I probably wouldn’t be able to host it myself. Still, would anybody else be up for it?

* Actually I am immune to Dancer in the Dark now, thanks to Jon, but I can still inflict it on other people.

John and Jon

I finally convinced one of my relatives to get a blog! My uncle John, about whom I’ve written before, has already started things off on the right foot with a post about how bad for you blogging can be. I wholly support this!

I’m hosting somebody else’s blog now! This makes me really excited!

Well, actually I host two: Jon, King of Former Roommates, started his songwriting journal back in December and then forgot about it. You’re fired, Brasfield! Hand over your badge!

I should go ahead and make the co-opted Crummy Standing Offer here: If you are part of my family (and this includes more than just my relatives) and you want a place to keep a journal, I will gladly host you.

In addition to Caitlan’s car, which (after its acrobatics last Wednesday) is totalled, Ian’s car is now a danger to drive; he’ll probably have to sell it for parts. Regarding Mom’s van, the mechanic told her to keep driving it for what time it had left, then leave it wherever it broke down.

Jon and Amanda, on their way to Tennessee for Christmas, skidded on ice and ran head-on into a truck. They’re okay, but the car is gone, and Amanda’s collarbone is broken.

It has been a bad December for cars, and for my family; but I am shaken by how much worse it could have been.

A year ago I was writing about the earthquake in Bam. I thought an earthquake death toll of around 50,000 was the worst I’d see in my lifetime. I was wrong, of course.

Update 2330 hrs: And my grandparents flipped their truck on ice on their way to Florida for Christmas. They are also miraculously okay, and also currently without transportation.

That accursed picture

First Leonard called me out on it, then Maria called me out on it, then Leonard sent me a text-only debunking, then tonight Jon of all people sent me the definitive Snopes proof. Yes, I would have noticed the weird TV shadow and the odd intersection of the panel and the teletype if I’d been looking for it, but I wasn’t, OKAY? OKAY! I TAKE IT BACK! I’M SORRY! I QUIT!

I don’t actually quit.

New friends and old friends

I have had occasion in four separate instances, lately, to play with a new baby puppy. It’s a girl puppy, a Yorkie, who has recently taken up residence at Maria’s family’s house to keep her mom company. Her name is Sadie. She is very small and not at all yappy. We are napping buddies. How it works is this: I pick her up and put her in my lap, and then we both fall asleep almost instantly. This is basically the best of all possible worlds.

In the midst of the most recent puppy-time but one, I got an unexpected phone call from Jon, which at first I believed to be the unintelligible noise of somebody who has accidentally called you by not putting on his key lock. After a moment, though, I perceived it as actually a live bootleg from the BNL concert he and Amanda were attending at that very moment. It was the sound of our collective favorite band playing “Lilac Girl,” which they never play because nobody but us three and Canada knows it–it was on their first release, The Yellow Tape, and nothing else. So it’s a rarity and a great song, and I was really gratified that Mr. and Mrs. Brasfield thought to call and share it with me.

Jon and Amanda are married!

Last night I went to my first-ever rehearsal dinner–pancakes at Cracker Barrel, followed by a leisurely visit and then a hesitant drive to the chapel out in the middle of Shelby County. It was hard to find, but deservedly so: it’s a gorgeous spot, and somehow entirely cicada-free.

I got to host Jon’s bachelor party, which consisted of coming back here with Ken, Chris and me and watching A Mighty Wind and laughing a lot. We throw some pretty wild parties.

This morning Ken kindly picked up Maria and me and drove us back to the aforementioned chapel, where we took pictures (one of Jon’s WWE-style entrance, one of Amanda’s, and then some less important ones) and waited.

Eventually there was a wedding. The bride wore flip-flops, and the reverend’s microphone kept fuzzing out. It was sunny, and outside, and butterflies kept zooming through the service. Amanda and Jon were very beautiful, and I’m so proud and happy that for this little while, I don’t even miss them.

I’ve been meaning to post both of these things forever. First, even though Jon and Amanda abandoned their blogs, they do have a homey little site now. It’s even got Lucy’s cell number on it! Watch out for those “for a good time” calls, Lucy.

Second, Mister Munson found my posts about him and wrote me! He seems like he’s having a great time, especially in his new science fiction class; as part of that, he says he finally taught Ender’s Game, which I badgered him to do for about half of my junior year of high school. I’m pretty sure that means I win. Or really, that they win.

This makes two people I know (Sumana being the other) who have taught a sci-fi literature class. I’ve never even had the opportunity to take one! Injustice!

Lady In The Next Cube must be having a rough day–she turned on the radio at 0900 and hasn’t turned it off since, which means that since the batteries are dead on my Discman, we both get to enjoy it. As I told Maria, I now understand that they really meant Soft Rock Music. All Day Long.

So yeah, basically I’ve spent the day trying to decide whether I could crash through the plate-glass window wall, and if the resulting fall would kill me. Soft Rock Hits. All Day Long. I didn’t think I was going to make it, but then–could it be? Yes!

I was saved by Wham!. Careless Whisper came on and revived my flagging spirits by reminding me of the BNL live cover to which Jon and I used to rock out in college. Glory be.

It was quickly erased by Sheryl Crow, of course, but still.