The Floater

"Swanburg" I pleaded," do you think I can hold on to your cooler? Last time I didn't have a cooler, people left me."

"Sure thing Britt but, remember, it's an important job that requires a lot of focus, concentration, and commitment."

Ten minutes later I saw Swanburg again and sure enough he asked why I didn't have the cooler.

"Fuck yo' cooler" I yelled.

Not knowing what to do next, I put on this face and made this shadow-puppet:

That's when Swanburg called me a "tool-fuck" and started swimming back towards the shoot where I'd lost the cooler and its contents just 5 minutes before.

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In other news:

This is the face I make when I think no one is looking.

This is the face I make whilst pissing myself.

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And before you ask, I don't know what it means to be a "tool-fuck" and it was a unicorn. My shadow puppet was a unicorn.

B.C. The Fisherman

Today, with the help of my best friends Swanburg and Charlie, I caught my first fish ever.


As you can see, Norman couldn't quite get the worm and Charlie made love to him. All-in-all, it wasn't Norman's best day.

Debate Superstar

I used come home from middle school and talk to my cat, Mr. Mistoffelees. I'd dress him up like a Senator; sometimes a princess and then we'd chat about things.

That's how I got into debate.

I started working the amateur circuit when I was 13; three years later I was unstoppable. Here's a picture of an interview I did with CNN at the NDT along with the accompanying transcript.


Reporter: What are you doing?
Me: Debating. Definitely debating.
Reporter: I meant in front of the girls' bathroom?
Me: Well Steve, can I call you Steve? If I've read that sign correctly, a female invalid should be rolling by any second.
Reporter: You're waiting for a woman in a wheelchair?
Britt: Steve, Britt knows what he wants and tonight he wants an invalid.
Reporter: Why would you want that?
Britt: When you resort to attacking the messenger and not the message, you've lost the debate.
Reporter: So what's the message?
Britt: Girls without legs can't run.
Reporter: Good point.
Me: Of course it's a good point. You're debating the B-Man . . . good points are the only kind he's got.

The Astronaut

I used to sniff a lot of glue and spend hours looking at the stars. Sometimes I'd bring my viola; sometimes it'd be just be me and the stars.

I guess I'm a lot like Eminem in that respect. We both loose ourselves in the music; we both reach for the stars. I've never met him but I bet we'd be friends. I bet we'd have a lot to talk about.

(Eminem at Space Camp '91)

Like I'd tell him my name is B. Clark and he'd tell me his name was B. Rabbit; I'd tell him stories from Space Camp and he'd probably just sit there and listen . . . maybe tell me some of his own.

Like this one time back in the summer of '94 . . . first day at Space Camp, very first day. Me and a bunch of the flight crew were standing around, and I see this girl. All the other guys were too nervous, so I go up to her . . . in front of everyone . . . and I'm like, "Hey, are those Space pants?" There was a pause and I was like, " Bamm . . . because your ass is out of this world!!!"

Using bamm in a sentence was kind of my Space Camp trademark, but get this . . . they really were Space pants!!! Can you imagine? The guys and I were fucking dying. My one friend with a spastic colon laughed so hard he shit himself. Scouts honor, Lyle laughed so hard he shit his pants.

Oh the good ole days . . . we were crazy back then.

BC: The Violist

There I am eight-years old, $3 in my pocket, nothing in my stomach but the remnants of my last trick. I say to my dealer, "I need to get high," to which he replies, "I got just the thing."

I put out my hands and what does he hand me? I shit you not he hands me a viola.

"A viola" I yell, "how's that going to get me high?"

He looks me in the eye and says, "Just play it son . . . just play it."

So that's how I started playing the viola . . . true story.


Anyway, I work my way up the viola playing ranks and people take notice. I'm kind of a big deal, kids at school know me, I get high-fives, that kind of thing. Anyway, All-State tryouts are up for grabs and they want me to do this Mozart number. I can't do it in warm-ups. I keep saying to myself "you can, you can do it Britt, I know you can, just trust it" but it wasn't happening.

Warm ups are done and I walk in for the real deal and you know what happened? I just start fucking screaming. I swear. I just start yelling and cursing like I have Tourette's and next thing you know I'm belting out this song on my viola. It was wild.

And you know, looking back on it, that's when I knew what my dealer was talking about . . . making All-State Viola was the highest I ever felt.

The Underdog Story

My life has been a jeremiad since as long ago as I can recall. You see, I wasn't always an all-state violist . . . I didn't always have the libido of a monk.

There was a time when I called rock bottom home but that was a time before Space Camp. There was a time I couldn't look in the mirror without crying but that was a time before debate.

Through this blog I want to share my story. It's a story of hope, it's a story of triumph but most of all, it's the story of me. I hope we can share this trip together.

"If you had . . . one shot, one opportunity . . . would you capture it . . . or let it slip"
-- Eminem