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Hello hello hello! Let's get one thing straight...this Act is going to be fun. Lots of fun. Fun fun fun for everyone. Why? Well...first of all, there'll be pictures! Pictures are always fun around here, right? Second of all, there's good Keneally news to tell you about. Now that's damn fun. Third of all, we've got a report from a party at Moosenet Headquarters, celebrating the 40th birthday of the one and only CEO of Moosenet himself, Mr. Scott Chatfield. Hot damn, we go' ha' sum fun now, fo' sure! On your marks, get set....

I say we go ahead and mix it up; news, pix, party stuff, news...completely against my anal-retentive nature, but the sweet young lady I met at the NAMM show would be proud, and that's becoming more important lately. Where am I going with this...mmm, that's right...pictures!! I promised you in Act 9 (and some curious parties even before that) a picture of the lady whose generosity and unselfishness with her computer make this all possible. I don't go back on my word...here she is, in the cyber-flesh, the sexpot roommate Joanne!

The story of our friendship is way too long even for this blowhard of a writer to explain on this page, but suffice it to say that we grew up around the corner from each other in Westfield, NJ, and due to the first letter of her last name, we shared a homeroom for 12 long years (please don't go asking me for her last name...it wasn't easy for me to get her to give me this leather-bound glamour shot of her). Not only has she basically underwritten this page by allowing me practically unlimited use of her trusty Packard Bell 486, she has also endured countless hours of live Keneally videos blaring through the stereo and TV in our living room while I carefully cataloged them. Adding insult to injury, after my job as catalog boy was complete, then Mr. K comes over and we watch it all AGAIN. We're talking 19 shows at this point. Joanne has an open mind to eclectic music, but not cracking after hearing the 13th version of "Your Quimby Dollars At Work" (which she claims, slowed down as we perform it live, sounds mysterious like the theme from "The Addams Family") requires the patience and understanding that could only come from someone as wonderful and downright gorgeous as she is. She likes to wear that leather thing around the house, you know. As I said in way back in Act 1, the sexpot roommate Joanne is currently taken by someone I introduced her to. Now you know what an idiot I can be sometimes.

We're bouncing around from thing to thing here, so it seems natural to talk about video after that last bit of roommate ass-kissing. Now, I haven't read Mike's latest page entry, so if this is redundant I apologize, but here's the skinny on the video situation...it looks like six videos will be made available at the inception of the BFD Video Club. They all have a special little theme, which could be anything from the NAMM show, to San Diego activities, to the story of the "LA Riot" show (dutifully reported to you in Act 5)...I don't want to spoil it all for you, but let me tell you about one in particular. On 2/22, my mom's birthday, we played a show at Musicians Institute in the capitol of la-la land, Hollywood. Last year we played there and, consumed by the nasty vibe of wannabe shredders and Jake E. Lee worshipers, proceeded to suck dick on stage for nearly 90 minutes. BFD vowed revenge and got it tenfold. Not only did we play what we consider to be our best gig to date, it was captured on a pro-shot 3/4- inch video master, along with great angles, close-ups, you name it. Our victory was complete when we listened to the DAT of the show...it is very, very releasable. Mike has been kicking around the idea of pairing it in a 2-CD package with what was going to be "Sort Of Live In Hollywood" (recorded "live" in a studio at MI, of all places) and calling the thing "Half Alive In Hollywood". He's so clever. So, there you go; the video compilation task is nearing the editing stage, and a new CD is in the works. Are we having fun yet?

I think it's time for another picture, this of the young, embarrassing type...

Here I am, in all my glory, in my dorm room at the Berklee College Of Music 5-week program in the summer of 1988. This was, quite obviously, before I became concerned about my diet and physical fitness, but having to eat at the Berklee cafeteria will do that to you. When I began taking actual college classes at Berklee in the fall of 1989, my weight was on the rise big time, eventually reaching the gaudy amount of 220 pounds. How do you lose 45 pounds in a month? You can either let Richard Simmons blow you, or you can eat the chicken in the Berklee cafeteria. I chose the latter, and as I bit into a particularly nasty thigh, blood spurted into my mouth (Brad Dahl, can you help me??). The case of food poisoning I received from that foul bird part was so severe that I ended up in the hospital twice in nine days, completely dehydrated and unable to keep any food down. Eventually, when I recovered, I discovered that my appetite had shrunk quite a bit, so I went with it...and a month later, I weighed in at 175 pounds. It's so easy! Just introduce this virus to you system and, presto!, just like that, get that waistline down and those abs in shape! The officials at Berklee absolved themselves of any responsibility for my illness by claiming that, since I hadn't eaten exclusively in the cafeteria for the three days prior to the bloody chicken incident, it could have come from anywhere. I ate mostly cold food the rest of the semester, with the occasional can of Dinty Moore beef stew in my room off of the hot plate. Those were the days.

Was that fun? I'm not being as fun as I should be. Let's talk about real fun about to happen...the BFD tour. Have you seen the "BFD Upcoming Giggage" at the top of the Keneally Home Page? It's starting to look like the back of a Metallica t-shirt up there, isn't it? Let's give credit where credit is due...to the home of the bloody chicken, Berklee College Of Music. Jon Finn, a teacher at Berklee as well as a fantastically gifted guitar player with an album out ("Don't Look So Serious", Legato Records), acted on a hunch that he could sell the Berklee brass on us to perform a clinic and a show in the beautiful Berklee Performance Center for some decent bread, and he was right. We're currently in the process of booking as many gigs as we can around that locked-up date, April 17, and we owe Mr. Finn a huge one for acting on our behalf as our gateway to the East Coast. Dude, you rock. As far as other dates, everything is happening so fast, the best way to not receive incorrect information from me is to check the gig updates often. God, between videos, shows, tours, pictures...are we having fun now or what, eh? Eh???

Oh no...not again...oh Christ, please somebody do something before...ugh.

I swear, we'll get this readership back down to seven people if it kills me. It's possible that there are some people who jumped on ship midway through this saga, and since the page has been reformatted (we'll talk about that in just a bit), the main drag picture from Act 1 no longer appears automatically. Some of you new folk may be shocked, even offended. All I can say is, read Act 1. And to those of you who've been there from the beginning, let's not forget our roots, OK? Even the CEO asked me why I wanted to go here again...I guess I just wanted you to know what it's like trying to urinate in a contraption like that. I don't know how many women there are reading this thing; my guess is not too many (after this, we're talking zero, boys), but you women got it rough for sure. Ain't we havin' fun???

And how about that new "Life Of Bryan" graphic, huh? And the spiffy new Act by Act layout? Mr. Scott Chatfield is the Chief Executive Officer of Moosenet., Inc. His responsibilities include naming all of the Acts of the LOB, scanning the pictures for your viewing pleasure, and just running the whole fucking site in general. Without the sexpot roommate Joanne, I couldn't e-mail Scott the Acts, but without Scott, there would be bupkis. I didn't even know he was going to redo the "Life Of Bryan" page format, he just did it. And Act 8, the e-mail special, required lots of font-altering and editing. No fat cat CEO's here, I tell ya. Whadda guy! I've submitted his handiwork (for which he bashfully doesn't like to receive praise for) to Net Magazine-- personally, I think that the Mike Keneally Page is a lock for Music Site Of The Month, if not just an "A" rating. Honestly, have you ever seen a more thorough web page for any person, company, or multinational conglomerate? No lying now...have any of you actually seen everything on the Keneally page? I'm pretty sure that even I haven't. That says something...either there's a lot of completely worthless shit here, or this thing is a huge fucking masterpiece, a shimmering palace of crystal off in the hills above the information superhighway. I think the latter.

On to Mr. Chatfield's 40th birthday party...me and Joe Travers headed down early, with the intention of hanging out and eating and mingling and drinking etc.etc. until Keneally arrived at 10:00, at which point we would play in the CEO's living room. The house was set up by his wife Karen as a "this is your life" TV set, with pictures on posterboards ringing the walls in chronological order (Scott as a high school subversive, Scott as a CEO in training at his job, Scott with his lovely wife Karen...Bryan is to Joanne as Scott is to Karen, except, unlike dumb ol' me, Scott kept her for himself. A wise choice.). Anyway, me and Joe, both single and in our mid-20's, stood mostly dumbfounded at the parade of baby-boomers who strolled in with their spouses (and sometimes, children!!). Joe's response was to partake in his favorite herbal vice; mine was to attack the food table (old habits die hard). So eventually Keneally showed up, and Joe was happy, but I wasn't feeling too good, because while I was busy eating everything in sight, I was drinking vodka and orange juice right along with it. The food slowed the alchohol's effect, and before I knew it, a whole flask (10 shots or more?) of vodka was gone. I wasn't drunk, but I didn't feel quite right.

Keneally's feeling bold now, and the first thing he kicks into is "Andy/Inca Roads". Joe smiles and follows along; meanwhile, I feel this pain building in my upper left chest area. By the third or fourth tune, I could barely breathe. This must be heartburn, I say to some concerned individuals. But, remember, this was a different age group we're dealing with here, and they tell me, someone who had food poisoning on three different occasions but never before been afflicted with a simple case of heartburn, that heartburn would be in the middle of my chest.

This was possibly a heart problem...maybe you should lay down. I'm thinking like big John Bonham nightmares at this point. I went to lay down in a dark room somewhere in the CEO's castle, barely able to inhale, while Keneally and Karen Chatfield checked on me every once in a while to see if I was still breathing.

I could hear the CEO playing my bass in the other room as I lay in agony, jammin' the blues all night long. The next morning I woke up and felt fine. I guess the next time I want to down a whole flask of Smirnoff, I shouldn't eat 18 pounds of pesto mini-pizzas and chips smothered with spinach dip. But, let me tell you, if nothing else was fun, THAT WAS FUN.

So, did I deliver on a good time? We met the sexpot roommate Joanne, we had new Keneally CD's, videos, pictures, tour updates (we're going up the West Coast also...I just realized that I completely neglected to mention that above. Check it out at you know where), stories about my delicate gastro-intestinal composition...don't say I never did anything for you. I don't know why, but something tells me I might have quite a bit of news for you by the time the next Act rolls around...or maybe it's just that chicken I had for dinner. I'd better go now............B.B.