A to B through Z

I hope no one ever makes a documentary of my life. Not because I feel incapable of great deeds or am unsure of their coming. Rather, it seems that every biography papers over the indecision, angst, and apprehension that I sincerely hope has plagued the luminaries before me. I understand that Ernest Hemingway's bad poetry and Jeff Tweedy's shitty mix tapes make for poor prose, yet it makes relating difficult. The biography kick I have been on recently has made this obvious. A paragraph about lost years capping off a lengthy list of dates and places intended to sum up a childhood and family history, the dryness of which may only be topped by your neighborhood police blotter. Perhaps I'm not the target demographic, but if the telling of a lionized figure's life is not inspiring future genereations of partially-molded minds then what, praytell, is the point? We either need better authors or better youth. I suppose this entry forgoes the latter conclusion by its ver...

As the sun set just beyond the horizon, the curvature of the earth became thunderously apparent. Less so in the bend of the horizon, but rather in the gradual transference of orange to blue in grand striations. The lights of a familiar city receded as the creep of rural America extended far beyond areas best remembered. It's hard to imagine manifest destiny fulfilled when in flight. It seems less likely that man has conquered nature with his feverish grappling when viewed aerially. Rather, I see a species huddled in mounds and clumps, steeled against an enveloping blackness far afield of these hives of commerce. A journey into these dominant wilds with pack and pole only reveals this precarious state. And yet we journey on, perhaps for this very reason.

It's hard to remain optimistic about the nature of man in the face of horrible tragedies like today. There will be a lot of talk about gun control and second amendment rights in the coming days and months, perhaps all the better. Honestly I just don't know where to come down on the issue. It's one of those debates like unions, teachers, and immigration that seem to have no middle ground. Why can't we have common sense gun laws that the NRA and most of my Cambridge neighbors will hate, but everyone else would agree on? Again, I just don't know. I feel as though something should come from this. Twenty kindergartners getting gunned down has to mean something. It has to be more than just one man waking up, aiming to do evil. But then again maybe it's just that. Mankind has free will and twenty kindergartners are now dead. Twenty families are facing the worst Christmas of their lives. A hurricane rolls through and drives us to heroic acts of charity, then toda...

Got some old pepsi kegs on the Cape this weekend. Ann wanted to be a part of the picture and is also a massive dork. RAIN BOOTS!!!!!!11!!!!?1!!!! Lovingly, Bryan

So Ann's up here now, and she eats at a man's time like a theoretical puppy eats at an Asian girl's heartstrings. Not that that's a bad thing, unless you happen to be a diehard blog enthusiast. In a funny twist of fate, after writing those first two sentences I got side tracked making smoothies. Like I said, not a bad thing. Now I have a smoothie, so that's nice. The Brewery My dream brewery is nearly complete, and I was able to brew up 5 gallons of pale ale and 1.5 gallons of what I'm calling a "German IPA." If you're familiar with Sierra Nevada's famous pale ale, the former beer is a clone while the later is an interesting inversion of their classic recipe. After making the first batch by the book, you would typically throw out the remaining grain and usually lose some of the sugars or as I call them "pre-alcohol." This time, I circulated some more water through the grains to pick up this sugar and had about enough to make a ...

So after all the frantic tourist-ing I went through while my parents were here this week, it felt good to kick back and relax on a sunday afternoon. Oh and the jug of beer didn't hurt either. I have some more pictures and interesting stories, but it's beer time. Driving to the airport at 5:30 am + 64 oz of beer makes for some epic napping. Also, I've been trying to figure out how I feel about Perry's big "Prayer-a-Palooza" today. After much deliberation and 64 oz of beer, here's all I've got: lol. Insightful, no? Bryan

No clever introduction. My mom called me a foodie the other day, and I've been mulling over whether or not she may be on to something. Why I'll never be a foodie A. I refuse to take pictures at restaurants/bars/etc. I'm the kind of person who hates cameras. Now, I like being able to look back at pictures (especially of myself) as much as the next (arrogant) guy, but there's something very intrusive and unwelcome about pulling out a camera. Nothing sucks the air out of a room like flash photography. It forces an immediate self-awareness and reflection on a moment that previously had been unburdened by thoughts of future consequences. Coincidentally, this is also how I feel about cell phones omnipresence. Which is an odd opinion for a young tech-savvy guy to have, I understand. I remember when Ann and I first started dating, it took me many frustrating months to break her* of constantly  texting during dinner. Maybe my notoriously bad phone skills are a pendul...