brazil Effingham Fish I had an idea for a story while watching this movie, once. It had to do with a man who took his five-year-old son to work with him one day, as part of a national government program, building a highway through the middle of nowhere to another city some thousands of miles away. All the father really had to do, though, was sit back and let a machine do the work while he supervised it, to make sure it didn't break down, except it did, just during lunch. So, the father radioed back for a replacement part, and told the son that they'd have to wait for the truck to arrive with the part, else there'd be Hell to pay. Can you see it coming? 'Cause here it comes. Flash forward twenty years or so, and they're still out there waiting. The machine is a rusted, ruined heap. The father is a senile old man who has forgotten everything except that he must wait where he is, or there will be Hell to pay. The son, now a young man, finally gathers up his courage and abandons his father, leaving the road and trekking into the wilderness. There, he meets more people roughly the same age as him, all of them coming from the same predicament. So they band together, build a little village for themselves, and begin to finally live their lives. The trick ending comes a few years later, when the roads are finally finished, all of them leading right to their village, turning it into a central metropolis. Score one for the bloody empire, eh? I suppose I really ought to get around to writing it one of these days. 011231 ... Kate Tracee and I will go see that once you write it and it comes to the Cedar Lee. A pep band song that we play in band, and will be playing for our final concert on Thursday. Part of the senior pops concert, when Mr. Betchel will say all sorts of nice things about the seniors and it will be the last time we ever play together in band. Greetings from Brazil 05.07.02 Hints of you remain like the grimy outline of a band aid. The waving and flailing of long white-sleeved arms as you play a big ass wild bongo solo fills my peripheral vision. The catalyst is you. I restrain my smile enough to continue breathing and playing. Measure numbers and drum breaks contain unwritten emotions, unwritten cues of when to look and when to turn away. 020511 ... /anon Brazil! Funnya movya! I sawd it das oter day wit my friends and ish looked to me like they were on high! or I wash highesh anyways I lub dose mobies dey coo lik jacobs ladder and rezavoir doggies and akira the cartoons that are violent and bloddy and evil lik end ofsh evangelion ish scare me's and ghosties in das shells and bebops and trigun and das movie clock workish orangie funny and old ultra violent and bonnie and clyde! 030401 ... no reason i wonder if there's a trip there anytime soon or ever. i'd love to go, and not ONLY for the drumming/music. k bye. 060317 ... zheng he brazil is not a movie, stupid. is a great country. in many ways.. 061212 ... nom no_reason!! sao_paulo!!! 080525 ... god i will return 080526 ... no reason i want to try a caipirinha 080526 ... nom god i hope i can get there 080831 ... minnesota_chris brasil 080831 ... nom so many words 081002 what's it to you? who go blather from