big pockets

sundance 2012//rant//fuckLA

thought it’d be a good idea to get some extra cash moneys in my bank account which led me to responding to all sorts of “etcetera” ads off craigslist which next led me to modeling nude for a group of artists and also driving a chevy tahoe around park city for the sundance film fest. normally i avoid the festival by all means but this year being all poor and with extra time on my hands that i’d rather not have on my hands made me think it might not be such a bad idea to just drive some people around for a weekend.

SO here is my review of the damn thing as a local as a someone who drove rich asshole shmucks from shmollywood around for 15-20 hour days over the weekend and didn’t see any movies: 

bitter. i hate what it does to my small little town (yes i claim it to be MY town, i feel some kind of blood tie to this place, entitled on the streets even though i don’t know their names (seriously! kinda weird)), turning what is normally a relaxed quiet mountain town into LA, and yeah sure it’s only for a week out of the year it’s great for business it was great for my i.o.u.’s but i’m fairly positive that about 93% of the people DID NOT EVEN GO SEE ANY MOVIES, were only here for the parties, which everyone complained about (okay not everyone sorry for generalizing), like “who’s there” “is it any good” “is it open bar” “are we on the list” “where can we get some coke” “how’s the bing bar” “who’s at tao” etc. and once the party is over it’s like “wa wa all these parties are the same. energy drinks one or two celebs and shitty club music”. okay, fine, cool, WHAT ABOUT THE MOVIES, isn’t that what this is all about and it makes me want to knock on mr. redford’s door and say excuse me, what the fuck have you done to my town, mister. it makes me sick i tell you, it makes me bloody mad. all these people who sound all-important and valuable or “famous” and entitled er whatever, like super ego-driven mad men who design biological warfare and don’t recycle.

so me all monster-like and driving these guys around in a blizzard all day and they’re all upset with ME that we’re late to this or that, and sorry i can’t just teleport you to your magic little party, no i can not get you to where you need to be in ten minutes with white out roads and no i am not going to be available 24 hours a day at the drop of a hat to make sure that you are always at your super awesome events with free shwag. turned out to be an eye-opening experience in the sense that i learned that i can’t cater to wealthy scumbags, for my mental sanity/clarity to be at least somewhat sound. i am super grateful for all of my quiet friends. i am glad to be poor.

redemption was momentary but extremely impressionable—one magic event that happened when i drove a musician/actor around. i didn’t recognize him (didn’t even after i found out who he is/what he’s in), but i was the lucky driver who got to take him to the premier of red hook summer. our conversation started with water, him saying he felt a little sick w/the altitude, me recommending he drink water, him commenting on how much he loves water, what a miracle it is that we have water… KEY WORDS HERE for ye olde brynne so i start rambling about water, how i’ve been all starry eyes for water lately in love, and how our words and attitudes are transmitted through water and can transform and heal and have you ever heard of the book hidden messages in water? and he’s all into it, feeling the mysticism that i feel about water which was such a nice reminder of the beauty of souls, that even though there are some people out there who act demonic and moronic, there are angels who give good grace and i am so grateful for this nice man with so much soul, i am grateful for people who have soul, please give me more soul, my town once had a lot of soul but this film festival sucks the life soul of it dry hidden behind big name brands and big deal people and whocouldgiveafuck about these miserable wrecks (i’m so sorry i will end this rant yer all beautiful people keep up the good work kidz peace love rainbows and puppies)

i threw away my earring. well,
first i removed the earring from my ear, ordered my pupil in the direction of its gaping hole (and i mean who knows if that will ever close, do i dare care?), lost the back of the damn thing after dropping it against that black hole also known as the floor,
then i threw away my earring.
that aesthetic is over. time to move on. my ear will heal. my eyes have been trained to replace old wounds with new cells of skin, perhaps a scar will remain to remind me of what i once thought was rebellion, or beauty. i mean both. 
other scars remain as a reminder of What I’ve Lived Through, The Things I’ve Seen, Things That Won’t Go Away. like a dog bite. 
I won’t go into all of them. Not here,
not while I’m dreaming of bed, waiting for December. 

On what it is like to work at a ski resort in the old mining town I grew in

Today I ate lunch in the cafeteria with a ski instructor, Marcel from Romania, who split his cheesecake in half to share with me. With name tags, people become a place a name a face and a department. Me, local, reservations. There is a guy, Brett, who I worked with back when I was 14 or 15 or however old you can be so that you are not as illegal as the people from Argentina. We smile and wave at each other, I’m sure I haven’t changed much from my quiet awkward teen soul. While working, I take phone call after phone call from guests who for the most part are pleasant, mostly people who have skii’d here for years and years and years, but then the snow comes up, and I can say things like “72 of our 100 runs are open” and “we have excellent snow-making technology” but “I’m right there with you praying or dancing or whatever it is you do for these snow gods to quit teasing us”. I ride the bus which runs twice a day for employees, and as the days get longer I see a little bit more of the sun each day, or really just the mountains and their shadows, mountains I’ve climbed and pee’d on for years and years and years, but I feel like a stranger to them, and I can’t but feel betrayed by this seasons anomaly. I’ve lived in seven different houses in this town, and all seven still stand, but the stores on Main Street have changed, and the preserve keeps shrinking, and my high school was completely remodeled since I graduated. Although my tag reads “Park City” I can’t but relate to our guests from New York or California or Anywhere, Earth, as a tourist here. Nobody seems a local anymore, and it breaks my sorry little 6year old self who moved here and thought the snow was salt. But! Not to write a glum obituary about my town, on a brighter note I am full of smiles and galaxies for being back, I am scraping pennies to make rent (sooo 99% of me), gaining weight and learning to love myself and my friends in marvelous ways. So we cool.

2011 i know you aren’t over, but you were like the weirdest year

location:
provo, utah: dagobah (that blue house with my east-facing pyramid room), the law’s house (one block away and the best neighbors you could ask for), rock canyon, provo canyon, all canyons, the herb shop, the bar on center street, the trailer park, the yoga studio, mountain west burrito, byu campus, y mountain. 
salt lake city, utah: that house by west high, by the baseball field, by the tennis courts, trax, pioneer park, above decades, jon’s house, the farm in eden, 9th&9th, the petersen art center, the capitol.
tokyo: chiyoda-ku, the apple store, onsens, sendai, shibuya, minato-ku, yokohama, chinatown, the pier, kamakura, the subway, the JR line. 

accomplishments:
apologized to my professor, graduated college, did some weird thing where i just stretched and meditated all day for a month and got a certificate for that so i can teach other people how to do the same thing, managed to remain sober while finishing school, quit smoking, sold my car, dodged a metaphorical bullet or two, danced, somehow managed to let go of and forgive someone who hurt a very important part of me, somehow managed to let go of and forgive someone else who hurt a different part of me, loved some, lost some, read like, so many books, learned a new language or at least tried for awhile there, climbed mt. fuji, kissed the big baby buddha, learned how to maintain a garden, ate (and drank) delicious vegetables and flowers and herbs and fungi straight from the dirt, ugh that’s it

guilty as charged:
gave up on something very important and precious, didn’t speak up enough, content to a fault, moved too soon, didn’t always recognize the things i need to be grateful for, spent money on things that i could have saved for better things, relied on family more than i would like to, lived in two places at once, didn’t give nearly as much as i received, tried hard to hold on to something that wasn’t helping anything, drank far too much that one time, stole some books, did other illegal things (weeee!)

grateful for:
the herb shop and all the people who work there, and at the yoda studio i mean yoga, for allowing me to be honest and open and accepted, and for giving me free food and free classes and free answers to all of my many many many questions about health, grateful for the people in provo who are all really fucked up and weird and really fun to party with, and by that i mean lovely souls who have all taught me very valuable lessons, grateful for byu (which is so weird because i really hated it for so long and was very bitter towards church-things, now i find myself missing stupid frustrating things like all those letters to the editor and dealing with the honor code or something, i mean yeah i definitely don’t miss going to see the bishop but i do miss that library etc.), for professors who went out of their way to help my rhetoric and who encouraged me despite my voiced annoyance. & well i could name a whole list of people who did something beautiful for me and maybe some day i will, but probably i will make that a private ordeal. grateful for an adventure to push my limits and to really test my loneliness and strength and grateful that the adventure is coming to a close. grateful for a healthy body and delicious food, 

okay alright you get it right? i am trying to filter the water in me. i am embracing the mysticism and god parts of me as well as cultivating the cold hard facts of science and statistics and trying to simplify and balance them all in order for to battle this fear and apathy and discontent i very easily fall victim to. struggling is cool! struggling is fun! fear is the mindkiller! etc. etc. 

also i am grateful for my dad, who last night asked me if i had any advice for him and i said “call more” and he started tearing up—only time i’ve seen him cry was at his dad’s funeral.

bring it on 2012!!!! 

One day I am walking along minding my own business and just you know doing my thing or whatever, when I pass a familiar sign for the Giants. I’m thinking to myself “did I just see that right?” and “what the hell are the Giants doing in Japan?” and “I thought their season was over” “maybe they love Japan” “maybe they love Japan so much that they play here just for fun”. Goes to show how much I know about baseball, or at least how much I know about baseball in Japan. So I text my dad (he is a Giant’s fan, but first we are a family raised off of going to A’s games so that is where my heart remains) and I ask “What the hell are the Giants doing in Japan?!” He responds with “LOL!” and nothing else. Great, dad. Once I return home he hands me tickets to the Yomiuri Giants game for the following Wednesday.

So here’s the deal about baseball in Japan from the limited perspective of an American girl: The fan base is infuckingsane. The cheerleaders, the songs, the organization of movements and the choreography of exposing the larger-than-life posters of the players left me with my mouth agape in wonder. Giants fans at the game wore a bright orange towel around their neck, to be spun around during various chants and songs. My dad thought it’d be pretty funny if he went in his SF gear. (It actually wasn’t really that funny, mostly it was funny by concept, and I’m pretty sure we were the only ones there that thought it was even remotely funny.) There aren’t many differences in the actual game (other than a game ends whether it is a tied game or not), but the experience felt more akin to attending a high school basketball game when your best friend or your boyfriend or maybe your family member is playing, cheerleaders and mascots in their costumes and all. I’m used to a more drunken crowd that cheers or yells according to the plays on the field; this crowd seemed happy chanting and singing whether their team was ahead or behind. The only other difference I noted was that instead of creepy old men (okay fine they are not always creepy old men) selling cracker jacks or cotton candy etc., the vendors were sexy Japanese girls in short shorts selling beer. Only beer.

Overall I’d say it was a pretty dull game. Sure I’m biased but, for me, nothing will beat a game at the Coliseum. And with that I leave you with my weekend plans which include going to see Moneyball.

Alright folks this is how it’s going to be: reblogs are going to http://okayalrightfine.tumblr.com/. Follow or don’t, frankly I don’t give a damn. Brinley is for Brinley only. DEAL WITH IT.

All must be given away, given away every day, because to be human means:

1. To be good
2. To save nothing

— 

Dave Eggers (via thevulgar

)

(Source: mourninglatte, via thevulgar)

youmightfindyourself:

Quote I found in the momofuku book (Taken with instagram)

from “A Map/A Method”

A METHOD

Me and her, we fight about the method we should use to map the woods behind the park. I say we should follow the paths deliberately, marking down all the forks and shortcuts, until we have followed anything there is to follow, until we have connected all the connections in these woods. She says we should start with the strangest landmarks, build our map around those, forge our own paths through the woods, and only then mark our routes in ink. I tell her that’s not practical and she tells me my method is too logical. We debate about the symbols on our legend, the direction that our compass should point. I try to color code the different areas in the woods, but she tells me my divisions are arbitrary and unnecessary. She draws things on the map I have never seen before, and when I point to them and ask her about them, she says they do not exist yet, no, they are the things that we will build, me and her, here in the woods behind the park. I tell her that we cannot add something to the map that isn’t there. It might be misleading. Sometimes, she tells me, it’s better to be misled. Where are we on the map? I ask. I ask her this and she says to me, we are nowhere. We haven’t been built yet.

By Sam Mortone (via Pank Magazine)

Fashion is one of the very few forms of expression in which women have more freedom than men. And I don’t think it’s an accident that it’s typically seen as shallow, trivial, and vain. It is the height of irony that women are valued for our looks, encouraged to make ourselves beautiful and ornamental… and are then derided as shallow and vain for doing so. And it’s a subtle but definite form of sexism to take one of the few forms of expression where women have more freedom, and treat it as a form of expression that’s inherently superficial and trivial. Like it or not, fashion and style are primarily a women’s art form. And I think it gets treated as trivial because women get treated as trivial.

— 

Fashion is a Feminist Issue: Greta Christina (via genghisgenghiscohen)

Suddenly my wardrobe crisis seems a bit more noble.

(via bareandbleached)

How To Get Rich From Mail Orders

1. go down the rabbit hole 2. write poems in the shape of “i.o.u.” with magnets on the fridge 3. draw charcoal on the shapes in the ceiling, create a childrens story 4. talk with your friends about what songs you can sing along to 5. think about books on tape, listening to books on tape, recording books on tape 6. get kissed a million times on one cheek on a saturday night in april 7. be pregnant with words, one day give birth 8. brainstorm ideas for how to be ‘successful’ 9. email grandma about how she is the no. 1 woman in all of logan 10. get a good nights rest 11. read psalm 137, about zion 12. stop acting like you know what you’re talking about when it comes to government, or politics, or all of every form of power. just because you read some books doesn’t mean you understand human nature 13. hair as evolution: hair as emotion, hair as feeling (hair as whiskers). 14. drink beer in park, fall asleep on blanket 15. make a unique pizza for a friend, make sure it tastes extra interesting 16. wish you had a dog, later realize that maybe you don’t have the capacity to love anything but yourself 17. find a way to get over that 18. think about stealing books 18. lose your memory, your awesome memory that you used to have of even knowing what number comes next in a list 19. instead of asking for birthday presents ask for pictures from your childhood 20. get a free battery and keyboard replacement from apple care! 21. kiss a veteran 22. bail out on a friend when you were supposed to watch a movie together 23. talk about and think about that movie all the time, and talk about and think about how you are in love with the whole world and how most of your world sleeps across the pacific today stick your feet in that pacific

“For the last 200 years or so, man has had a significant influence over the environment, and at this stage it’s not absurd to think that we can have a more positive and controlled influence, and not simply a by-product of our activities. [sic]”

-Jerome Kasparian on making rain with lasers 

Trailers - EAMES: THE ARCHITECT AND THE PAINTER →

The only thing that is awful about this is that it isn’t playing in Japan anytime soon.

This guy Nelson Boyer is one of the kindest humans on this planet—I was lucky enough to get to work with him at an herb shop in Springville, Utah. Here is a clip of an email ([sic]’s and all) he sent to me after I hinted at the fact that I am disappointed to find out that I’m not as strong as I thought I was:

“People tend to think that they should know better and beat themselves up over it. The truth is if they truly knew better, they wouldn’t be where they are. Sure, you can know in your head some of the cause and effects of things, but our problems tend to be a little
more complicated than that.

Smokers tend to beat themselves up because they ‘know’ that the smoking isn’t supportive to there health. So they try and quit, start smoking again and get angry at themselves and tell themselves that they’re weak. The truth is that they aren’t smoking because they want problems, but because it fills a vacuum, and other reasons that are better approached with love.

Someone asked me what to do to quit drinking last week. I told them to spend time in gratitude for alcohol and all it has done for them, to make friends with it and hold it in a place of love. If they do decide to drink, I told them to feel gratitude to take the charge out of the action.

This sounds like whitewashing to most people, and that a guiltless approach might prevent someone from progressing. But beating yourself up just gives the things you fear more power over you. Then you feel worse and want the ‘bad’ habits to comfort you. The action is punishment enough, and if someone really needs to get disciplined or scolded that can be done, but only within the greater context of acceptance.

Jesus taught “If you salute them which salute you only, what reward have ye? Do not even the publicans and sinners do the same?” The idea is if we’re only nice to people who are nice to us, we don’t really get it. But more importantly, if we only accept ourselves when we are doing everything we want and being successful, we will be missing the big picture. We need to love ourselves when we’re at our lowest, and acknowledge our worth when we cause problems.”

Bumping into this sign made me feel like a hysterical janus mask—it is so hilariously true and it is breaking my heart