The BrinkGuide adventure continues to unfurl, a fluttering cloth on the horizon. A way-station in the desert, promising water and shelter from the sun.

Some projects unroll at a slow, deliberate pace. Others jump out at you unpredictably. The BrinkGuide continues to be something of an unusual animal, to describe it mildly, with so many loose threads crossing such tremendous distances. Constructing the BrinkGuide has linked together bizarre, creative, and in almost every case audacious individuals from all over the place. The complete hilarity of some of these reviews, the brazen and unabashed criticism of others, has convinced me that the experience of reading the BrinkGuide might very well be as entertaining as the experience of visiting some of the places reviewed – this is not [and I repeat, not] a usual occurrence.

The temptation is quite tremendous. I’ll tap my pen against the desk nervously and gnash my teeth at the ceiling tiles. When the temptation becomes too great, I eventually give in; I launch my web browser and begin to sift through all of the failed monuments to travel writing – to writing in general, in some cases – that are hiding out there in the ether. And believe me when I say, there are more than just a few.

The problem, really, is this cult-ish worship of most restaurants, movie houses, music venues, and nightclubs. Expressions like ‘very great’ or ‘very cool’ or ‘very’ anything leap out from the screen, or off the page. Sure, there are plenty of words carelessly thrown at scintillating neighborhood pubs and restaurants in these ads, but so very little is actually communicated. ‘Things this shiny,’ on may begin to think, ‘can’t possibly be for real.’ And when confronted with such sycophantic, almost scripted adoration, it’s hard not to feel robbed, though all you’ve lost are a few minutes of your precious time.

Let the restaurateur do the advertising without soliciting fake or glowing reviews from friends and family, local newspapers and public relations firms. Let the critics do their job unencumbered. Everybody already knows it: if the food is inedible, there’s no amount of ad-copy or other cheep tricks that will help. In fact, with the BrinkGuide, we’re here to make sure that it doesn’t.

Of course, the other end of the spectrum rears its ugly head, too, and with increasing ferocity; blog threads and websites abound, dedicated to lambasting anything and everything that crosses its path. These neo-sophists are nothing more, really, than self-satisfied pedants whose one-dimensional diatribes do little to elevate anyone’s knowledge or experience. ‘Everybody’s a critic,’ as the man says, and so much more these days than ever before. There’s certainly entertainment value, and don’t we all enjoy spitting on the places that have burned us in one way or another. But then there’s the negative feedback loop, and it can be difficult to outrun. In the final analysis, the middle ground is the safest place to wander, but not in any political sense. No, it’s the balanced scale that we prefer, and it’s the low middle valley that’s the least explored, and promises the greatest reward.

Our reviews are as honest as we can make them, and we’re getting close to announcing a launch window for the product. It’s got us all pretty excited here at our Tucson Headquarters. Product testing is slated for next month, and then to the stars…

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photo credit: joland

The call of the road – it’s a wonderful thing. A low grown, a quiet voice tempting us to part with our hard-earned money in exchange for a few days of much-needed rest. The call of the road is a beautiful thing, even in these strange times, and the thirst for adventure is as alive now as it ever was. The sick sad fact, of course, is that our time always runs short, and the task of mapping-out uncharted terrain can be a difficult one. Newsstands and travel guides abound, filled to the brim with the worst kind of mediocrity; all the reviews read the same, and you always have this sneaking suspicion that all of these polished, positive reviews were flat-out bought – like ads in the PennySaver or the classifieds – and you realize that the treacherous beast of corporate banality is rearing its ugly head.

When a restaurant sets out to write its own review, something awful is in the works; the lie promises to wreck your voyage before you’ve even purchased your ticket. When you’re treated like a wallet with legs – a dumb, lumbering beast with money to burn and little else – there’s a good chance you’ll feel a dull sting in your gut while making your way back across the interstate, back towards home.

We’re working on this problem for you: a travel guide for the people, by the people.

Our soldiers are out there, in every major city, making sure that all of the secret little places – the hidden diners and back-alley art galleries, the rooftop gardens and relaxed local pubs – leap out from obscurity and into your pocket. You don’t need to live there to have the benefit of knowing exactly where to go – at least not anymore.

Our project is moving forward at breakneck speed and we’re proud to announce that, in the months to come, we’ll begin to unroll our restaurant reviews, entertainment venues, and hidden treasures, and all of that with the kind of character, honesty, and humor that you’ve been missing. We’ve been receiving submissions from contributors all across the globe, separating the wheat from the chaff, and we look forward to sharing our hard work with you soon.

Keep your eyes peeled.

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photo credit: joland