Brett Rants

My Page About Me

But aren't they all...

They say that I'm a narcissist
But I'm not the only one
I hope some day you'll blog us
And the Net will cringe as one...

When I was but a wee child, there was the book called My Book About Me, which was a do it yourself, fill in the blank, questionnaire, activity book in which a child (with adult supervision, of course) would list out things about themselves, important stuff, just as one might find in a typical blog, like, for instance, if I could locate my copy of the book, I'd know exactly how many spoons and forks were in the silverware drawer when I was six, but oddly enough, know nothing about the knife count. I guess the latter being too dangerous for six year olds worry about. Any-the-way, this-here page is that-there sort of piece. Oh, and just in case you're wondering:

I own 0 spoons and no forks.

As what's her name in that movie once said, 'Depend on the Kindness of Strangers,' but perhaps I paraphrase out of context.

Screen Time

I know, unbelievable, but true.
I own a computer...
my screens, two laptops, a few phones, a fan in back to keep it all cool, with a scanner to the side. same stuff, different angle, if you look in the background, mabye you can see stuff I'd rather you not, who knows what lies in the reflections
Hey, but here's a more interesting tid-bit:
I have access to more computing power at this very moment than existed in all the world when I was born.

Computers aren't the most important item... in my life, which I own, that was close and ready to photograph when I decided to start this project. But they were the first group that came to mind and the first group that I photographed. Oh, and also, not shown, a camera, but that is being phased out.

In times past, I've done projects similar to this by just walking around wherever I lived at the time and photographing things at random... the piles of junk or whatever. I call these sets States of Being. And one of my favourite images from one of these States is a stereoscopic picture of a junk littered desk, shelves packed to the gills, with kites and streamers and home-made tie-dye tapestries hanging from the walls. It was very crowded. Oh, and I think I may have borrowed a honest to goodness vermin infested rat, so there might be one or two of those crawling around, adding a little ambience. And in an image like that, there's a great deal of information, which might be difficult to fully vet, so I won't post it at this time. Suffice to say, that between the knick-knack stuffed ammo boxes and other toys 'taking the field', such an image catalogues a degree of material ownership magnitudes greater than my current situation... that is, as long as one does not count digital content.

Creating digital content is a main thrust of my existence. So, in any meaningful Book About Me written these days, not only would digital content have to play a central role, the entire endeavour would likely only make sense if it itself was digital.

Ah, the subtle irony; I enjoy it so, when things come around full circle.

Big Balls

It's not bragging if it's true.
Well, OK. So, it's still bragging.

Point being:
I have Big Balls
And I bounce them every day...

Hey, now, wasn't there a song about that at one time?

a select grouping of medicine balls, weighted soft indoor shotputs, and a rubber bouncy ball of the type super, these would be a bunch of play ball, toys

So, like the question was, what to photograph next? Since a pile of shirts, shoes, and socks would be boring, I opted for, you know, that something that might set me apart. I like tossing balls about, playing with myself, and that sort of thing. There's an innuendo in there somewhere, easy to make, almost impossible to avoid; and so, why bother either way?

Being a grown man, playing with all sorts of balls, hasn't been a thing with me for that long, maybe half a year, but is has grown. Walking around town, in a shopping center, standing in a waiting room, I like tossing the super ball back and forth or squeezing it in my hands. Being a computer guy (please see above section on digital content and/or this very page, as previously mentioned, as an example forthwith), I spend a lot of time sitting down; and even when I've rigged a standing workstation, there's still not a lot of movement in standing still and (what amounts to) staring at a wall for hours on end. So, I'm a big fan of tossing a ball (big or small) around whenever I get the chance.

So, OK, let's, um, be pedantic, is that the right word? As a writer (of sorts, at least give me that), I find myself constantly short on words, so, you'll have to help me out here. What's the word? Condescending, overly self-important, stupidly informative, something like that, anyhow, I feel a list coming on, do you?
Longterm, I think I'd like to add a pair of drumsticks to the mix, but those have a certain sort of collateral-damage element, apparently to the back of my head, eerily coincidental, whenever I tap out a nice ditty on the fine china, so maybe it's best to wait. And then, I don't want to deal with real swords (a sharp blade slicing both ways and all that), but progressing from a stick, to a bat, to some sort of weighted pipe is alluring; but once again, not today.

My Eyes

Bunching them all up for a photograph
seemed like a good idea at the time,
that is,
until I forgot where I put them...

Glasses, a photorgraph of glasses, oh, yes, this is narcistic, inane, bordering on the point of self indulgance, ok, way beyond the point of self indulgance, but ask yourself, would you rather be looking (or reading about) a half eaten hamburger (so juicy, so good, but the fries a little soggy) or something more off center Two, two, two picturs in one, or two images of nearly the same thing, three pairs of glasses, do not bother to ask how I managed to get the shot in focus, heck, do not really know if its in focus, still have not found where I put the blessed things

There was a time when I used to imagine, dream, hope for, pray that I would be whisked away to some fantasy land of make believe, like to somewhere from Out of the Looking Glass or clear on to Never Never Land. I don't any more (not as much, not on a clear day). So, maybe I grew up and I lost hope. Or you know, how long can one believe...

Anyway, in that game of make-believe, in the mental preparation for the trip, and as guidance in my life, which is amazingly on par with spending one's time deciding what they would do if they won the lottery, I came to the conclusion, that if transpored to the imaginary land, or, you know, if I just visited The Realms on one of those extended visas, keeping my glasses in working order would become a critical priority, and how, exactly, would I get them repaired if they broke or replaced if I lost them. And yes, The Realms is notoriously lacking in good optometrists. Short sighted, whatever's, having been hunted to extinction long ago.

Sick of reading?
Eh, well, I'm sick of writing.
I take my glasses for granted.
That's perhaps a mistake.
And in a listing of important material things in my life, they should perhaps go at the top of the list. But I photographed them third, so here they sit, smack dab in the middle of the page.

Testicles, Spectacles, Wallet, & Watch

Testicles not shown;
and no,
we'll have none of that,
no, no, I can see them,
the speck in the upper right corner
jokes, if you please.

If I'm going for a walk, this would be the minimum Life Support that I lug around.

Clearly, a listing should go here, can you feel the wavy lines forming, or does that only work for flashbacks?
Oh, I've been known to carry a lot more; but even my more is less than most.

Ah, I love the English language.


It's not just for breakfast, lunch, and dinner, anymore.
There be chocolage in them thar cupboards. I like to keep a healthy supply of the black and sticky lying about.  Of course, one persons healthy is anothers chronic affliction.

Some folks horde cigarettes, making sure to always keep one tucked behind the ear... or a spare bottle of scotch, tucked under the driver's seat, always in easy reach. I am more of a chocoholic. Or if that's unclear, I like my theo-bromides.

The stocks are getting short. But rumour is, we'll be shipping out soon, relocating the base camp, as it were. So in a bit, all that will be needed here is enough for when we get back and our first few days in town.

Swim Gear

Last and, um, yeah, least
a nice quick dry travel towel, stylishly out of date swim trunks, and two pairs of water goggles, clear and tinted

This is the type of image that gets posted near the end of this type of piece when the author has said what they came to say but aren't quite sure whether they want to expand the scope and go on or not.

Well, I don't...

Who knows what I'll post next?
next Brett Rants entry

Not willing to take the gamble?
Can't say I blame you.
Home Brett Rants Index

Or for the more adventurous,
Paufler Home
Or at least, my home away from home.

I once knew a man,
who said no one should own
more than 1,018 items.
Something about it being
the third multiple of six,
or something like that,
which it, clearly, isn't.

But whatever.

The thing is,
even at the time,
I would have had to acquire
most of that number
just to come up to the mark.

Some other day,
perhaps I'll sing the praises
of borrowing over owning.

Also, 1018
clearly beats
the Hindi's 108
by a factor of 1.
So, take that

© copyright 2016 Brett Paufler