Whatever Happened to the Brick Man? Part 1: Me and the Devil Blues

As every structure begins with a single brick, so does our story. Well, technically first you have to make sure the ground is stable, build a foundation, and then... Yeah, yeah. Whatever! Mr. Architect over here. Mr. Architect? What is this some bad 90's stand-up comedy bit? What do you know about 90's stand-up comedy...you didn't even exist yet! Touché, sir.   Where was I? I believe you were starting the blog post with a bad metaphor. Oh yes, right.

We began this tale with Brick and we shall end it with Brick. It is, after all, his story, even if it doesn't always seem like that's the case. In case you didn't know, Brick was an aspiring musician with stars in his eyes and that one guitar. Foreigner jokes aside, it was that guitar that stood by him since the beginning... of the story.

Brick was a simple child, too simple. Level 1-1 simple. He was a decent student (when he wasn't challenging his teachers to music showdowns... long story). He spent half of his youth in a daydream and the other half wishing he was in a daydream. He was never a good looking fellow. He was so ugly, but that's okay, cause so are you. He always had problems with authority (which explains why he got kicked out of boot camp.)

It was Brick's avid desire to be creative that served him well throughout his life but it was also his greatest weakness. Oh jeez, we're talking about weaknesses. In fact his overactive imagination had been the source of 99% of Brick's problems. (See what we did there?)  If there were anything that could have saved Brick, it would been the ability to wake up and face what's in front of him, but that was never something he could do.

It was this condition that made Brick very susceptible to G Mod's offer of fame and fortune, despite the fact that G Mod's legendary music studio was just someone's basement in California. If he wasn't so trapped in a waking mix of dream and reality, Brick never would have signed his life away to pursue something as fleeting as fame, as petty as money.

As Brick stood on the porch of the MFUJ retreat, staring into the restless grimaces of the Occupy protesters that had come for him, he was finally facing the aftermath of following the relentlessly evil G Mod down a road of insatiable greed.

Brick had sold his soul and his friends, his delusions, had paid the ultimate price. And soon, soon it would be his turn to face the harsh light of day. For now it was just him, the devil and an angry mob out for his hide.