The one with Location, Location, Location.

There is a certain footnote to taking a photograph. In fact there are many. But one in particular has always bothered me and in the past few weeks has really just pissed me off. It is commonly believed that you must take a photograph in an exotic place, to get a rock star of an image. I hate that so much. It is so untrue it gives me an ulcer to think about the poor people that believe it. And I almost began to believe it recently! Until my angel of an instructor Gary Sutton commented “You don’t have to be in an extraordinary place to take an extraordinary image.” Truer words have never been spoken. (Unless you count the whole ‘One small step for man’ thing) Anyway, recently I have been trying to really capture things around me and embrace this mantra. I’m trying to find the actual photograph and not find a location to photograph.

I just bought a 4x5 view camera. If you are not familiar, they are amazing. The quality they output is better than digital. The negatives are the most beautiful things I have ever seen. Anyway, I think I’m going to mash up the perceived ‘dirtiness’ of the mantra and the beauty of the 4x5. This is going to infuriate my fellow photogs so much. I can’t wait.

Im Still Alive.

This may come as a surprise. But I'm still alive. I know, and I'm sorry. I've failed to write anything in quite awhile. I will truly try to keep up better once summer is over.

Travis

The one with A Little History & An Update

Hello faithful readers. It’s been a long time since I last infiltrated your self-imposed moral responsibilities (wrote a blog). As always I have no viable reason for this other than my obligations as an erotic fiction writer have more than doubled with the onset of summer. That was a lie. In actuality I’ve been getting a lot of business as of late and have been busy with that. And as usual my wife that is art stole back my attention from my mistress that is writing. But alas! My bastard child, who is undoubtedly this blog, has been rescued from the cold, damp, locked basement.

Here is a history lesson. I used to be a “scene” kid. Tight pants, band buttons, punching whilst dancing, and underground concerts. I then realized what I looked like tied a noose of strong rope and hung my…tight pants up for good. You thought I was going to kill myself didn’t you? Inappropriate? Screw it. Anyway, I’ve been getting into punk music again recently. One band that I really like and that is also paying me nothing to write this is “Cage the Elephant". As far as I know they only have one CD out on iTunes. I’ll be honest, I bought it because it was cheap and I needed some new music. AC/DC LIVE, that I’ve been listening to since junior high, was getting old. So I bought this cheap CD. The music is actually pretty good. I mean, you can’t really expect much from the music industry lately; with the RIAA being the anal-retentive bastards they are and ‘Hanna Montana’ music being taken seriously. But it’s nice to know that good music still exists. Speaking of music, why won’t rap die?! It’s been around for nearly 20 years. It’s time is up. But you all know my position on rap.

As I write this I am travelling cross-country to Washington DC for some photo business. Here are a few quick observations: Indiana is a crapshoot, Ohio is beautiful, Chicago is nuts, paying a toll every five miles is annoying, and the great lakes are really huge.

One last quick note. I tried early last month to become a video blogger, or a ‘vlogger’ for you hip 10 year olds out there. It didn’t work. I feel much more at home with lines of text then a looking at a box, with a single infinitely deep, black eye staring back. So that’s enough of that. For now my home resides here at the Mashup, well that and my local gentlemen’s club, and the liquor store…and that Opium den down the street from my house.

Travis

The one with A Bumper Sticker & Canada

Bumper stickers. A great way to communicate your lack of refinement as a human being without having to speak. Kickin'. My eyes were burned recently. I saw a bumper sticker that said "God, Guns, Country and Hockey too!" For the love of Jerry Lee Lewis. Is it possible to sound more redneck? To make matters more hilarious this sticker also read "McCain/Palin 08"; for the bonus funnies someone had attempted to take it off but that red blooded American sticker held on like a fat, beer drinking, grass chewing hick holds on to his gun. Man what a metaphor. As a side note, I just want to say I love "McCain/Palin 08" stickers that are still on cars. They are just a beautiful representation of the typical American stereotype. But lets throw this bumper sticker's manufacturer a bone and try this out mathematically. God + Guns ≠ America. Country + Hockey ≠ America. Okay so this isn't looking good, lets keep working. God + Guns = Terrorists. Oh man, not good. I'm afraid to go on. Country + Hockey = Canada. Heaven's to betsy! That man was a Canadian terrorist! Someone call the Pentagon! (I don't have their number anymore. It's kind of a long story. I mean, we dated, once. I tried to kiss the Pentagon at the end of the night, but apparently the Pentagon doesn't put out on the first date) Wow, I guess anyone can be a terrorist these days. Who knew the Canadians would come after us? Me. Thats right. I knew. It makes sense. We have football, cheese burgers, gross overweight people and gross underweight people (for balance), government wire tapping, and to top it off Hummers. Bam. Suck it Canada. All they have is Hockey (as we discovered above) and maple syrup. Sure, thats a stereotype but lets be honest. Its true. (I'm just kidding Canada. Seriously, please accept my citizenship application. I really want free health care and I kinda wanna to learn French. I can recite the first two words of "O Canada". See? Take me. Please) What is the lesson of the day? Don't trust bumper stickers to be mathematically true, be cautious when traveling in the south because Canadian terrorists reside there, and I have submitted a fake citizenship application to the Canadian Office of Citizenship just to make this blog factually true. Thats how much I love you.

P.S. I just realized I have been getting comments on these gratuitous blabberings. I do read them and keep them coming. I love reading about myself. It is the only form of self-esteem building I get. (Lie)

Travis

The one about Stupid Shirts

I don't know what it is about stupidity that sparks creativity in me, but it does. I was surfing the net like any geek does on a Friday night. (Don't judge me.) I came upon a typical 'funny' shirt website. My eyes drifted from shirt to shirt. Pun this, frat joke that. Then I found this little gem 'With a shirt like this, who needs pants?' Cleaver? Maybe. Wearable? No. This shirt is kinda funny, I'll give it that. However, you can not wear pants while wearing this shirt. Seriously. People will think you are a bigger jackass for wearing pants whilst wearing this shirt. So you have the choice of being a gigantic flaming idiot or being a pant-less pervert. Now, all this could be averted by not buying the shirt, but it's the principle of the thing. So if you own the shirt, what did you do? Really, please contact me if you own and wear the shirt. I want to know. This question has been burning in my oversized brain for like seven minutes.

But that shirt isn't the only example, what about the ones that say "How to keep a idiot busy...(read back)" back says, you guessed it "How to keep a idiot busy...(read front)". Genius. Pure, artistry. (Lie) But boy, do guys (let's be honest, only guys wear these kinds of shirts) look uneducated wearing these bargain bin shirts. They just look unapproachable. Like your IQ will drop dangerous levels if you speak to them. Thats why I always kick those guys in the shins right away when I see them. I have to protect my intellect. However, I'll admit I did at one point own a shirt of this type. By type I mean a 'Social Involvement Shirt' (and I swear to God Dane Cook, if you steal that I'll stab you in the nose). This is any kind of shirt that invites others to comment or chuckle in some little way. My shirt however was a 'Anti-Social Involvement Shirt'. It gained this classification because it read 'Stop reading my shirt.' That my friend is amazing. It puts the inevitable reader in an awkward spot. They want to comment, but if they do they are ignoring your humble request. But there is always the pompous lowlife that does comment. 'Ha, nice shirt man.' I just glare, as if to say 'Can't you read?!' Which is a highly ironic thing to say. Clearly the person can read, for they thought your shirt was funny. However, if they can read why can't they understand your plea? Ignorance I suppose. Anyway, the lesson here children is when you encounter a person with a stupid shirt, kick them in the shins, unless their shirt says not to read it. In which case you should look away quickly and pretend like you saw nothing. That would be most polite.

Travis

The one about Censorship

Okay so this is something I’ve been angered about for a while, but most recently has come to a head. (Yes pun intended, shut up.) Censorship in America. What does it mean? Today it means that a bunch of fat, wealthy jerks sit around a table and decide what it is. Now the reason this has made me so angry recently is because of the new film Watchmen. I read the comic book a while ago and loved it. It really is an awesome piece of literature. But people are freaking out over Dr. Manhattan. To make a long story short, Dr. Manhattan is a frackin’ crazy powerful mo-fo that controls all matter. Nice, okay check. Society is cool with that I guess. He doesn’t exactly wear clothes. WHAT? MY GOD! HOW CAN THIS BE? Truth. The entire film his wang is out and about. So what? Get over it. I have one. So does your dad. Some people like them. Lesbians don’t. It’s an organ. For the love of God stop being so conservative. But the problem is bigger than the film. It is a problem with our nation. We are stuck up, insecure, jackasses. We tell our women what they should look like, but we don’t want to actually see them naked. I do, but it’s a matter of opinion I suppose. Let’s talk swearing. If you have read this blog for a little while you know my undying hate for Tipper Gore. She started the whole “Explicit Content” tag on CDs. I wonder why she didn’t advocate also adding “Beware: You Might Experience Reality” Come on! Lets get real. Swearing, nudity, and violence are a part of our convoluted and sick society. It’s just the way it is. No Tipper Gore bitching for hours will ever change that. Shielding our young from these things instead of easing into them slowly, we kill our children’s idea of reality. Children grow with a thick veneer over their eyes thinking everyone is kind and nice like a Disney movie. Yeah, like everyone sings in high school, toys can talk, and lions can be king. Bull. Here is the solution. Parents and educators should grow some balls and educate children. If you don’t educate children about our society how can they live in it? Long story short, I hate censorship. It is a ridiculous, gratuitous, and parental responsibility that a government agency thinks they deserve the right to govern. (They don’t) Stand up for your right to speak with realistic ideas.

Travis

The one about DTV

Okay so we've all been hearing about the DTV switch since like 1984. Every other commercial, every hour, everyday, "Get ready for the switch! Only 2 years away!" I remember hearing '2009' and thinking "I'll have a flying car by then, I don't care about clearer TV." Well, I made a flying car out of a refrigerator and a toilet seat and the FAA threw me in jail for two months. Fine, thats fair. It crashed and I 'allegedly' killed a few people. Whatever. So the date was February 17, which anyone who is cognitive knows because it was imprinted on our skulls by the government when we were born. Anyway, those last few sentences were a result of an Opium trip. That was a lie. The date was changed by President Obama. I suppose I can't blame him. He did promise change. Damn, I'm hilarious. It was changed some time in the summer. I stopped listening because my ears were bleeding. Which doesn't matter. Because God knows as soon as I stop the bleeding, another commercial will come on. Ugh, four more months of those overly energetic 'informative' people. DTV is pissing people off. A few days ago a guy shot his TV with a shotgun, and was surrounded by a SWAT team, because he couldn't match up coaxial cables. Come on. I feel your pain. But five year olds do what you almost got yourself killed attempting. I say screw DTV. I get HDTV out of a freaking antenna. Speaking of antenna, the company which spawned from Satan's nose, Time Warner has been running commercials implying that antennas won't pick up DTV channels. (BS) To make a long story short. This DTV thing is old news and I want a flying car. SIDE NOTE: The person that designed the physics in Wii bowling must have been Puff the Magic Dragon high on LSD. I swear, the next time my bowling bowl misses a pin by a pixel, I'm going to choke a kitten.

Travis

The one about Me Being Boring and Phelps

What you see above this text is a collection of the words most used in this blog. (I'll give you the link if you want to do it yourself. But I won't post it on here. Because they aren't paying me yet. Bastards. Im still holding out.) The winners are "really, one, like, kind, time." Awesome. I'm worse than Ang Lee's "Hulk" and Nyquil combined. Great, just what I needed to propel me through the rest of the week. Its been well over a week since my last post. Oops. I've just been so busy. (I accidentally typed 'busty', which is also true) That was a lie. I sleep and eat. That's all. Im a sad individual. Okay so now that I've realized I fail as a blogger, here's a blog. Michael Phelps is in the news, for smoking weed of all things. Lets get this right straight away. I support the legalization of marijuana. It's less dangerous than alcohol and tobacco combined and it is taxable. But this dumb idiot goes to a college party and hits a bong. Firstly, it's college. Every single female college student owns a camera and carries it everywhere. Even to executions, so that her and her friends can take Myspace pictures while they wait. The fool sits in the open and smokes. Someone takes a photo and it leaks. OMFG?! What? It's on the internet? No surprise there. But my main gripe with this situation is how he's technically a criminal now, but isn't in jail. If I was photographed smoking a doobie my ass would be in jail faster than I could say "Oh I'm sorry. I was being childish. kthxbye." But because I only have 7 gold metals and he has 8 he walks free. Weak sauce! It's just because I went to that last race crazy stoned in the 70's. Again I don't think smokers are criminals. But I don't think its right when I would be in jail and he isn't because he is an olympian. And he did something totally, blatantly illegal! But Chris Brown punches his pretend girlfriend Rihanna and all hell brakes loose. He's in jail and Phelps lives to toke another day. It's probably because Brown is a rapper. Damn Tipper Gore rears her ugly head once again. So there is just another reason why I hate celebrities. If you are a celebrity, sit on a cactus. Unless you are Megan Fox. Then you can call me. I slipped my number under your door. Oh, would that violate the restraining order? 

EDIT: Just read that eight (count 'em, 8) people were arrested in relation with the Phelps deal and not Phelps himself. Let me re-phrase that. Eight people were arrested in relation to a photo of ONLY Michael Phelps smoking weed. The others weren't even in the photo, mind you. For the love of God. This is ri-damn-diculous.

Travis

The one about The Pinhole Camera Work

It's funny this is supposed to be an art blog and this is my first art entry. And if your expecting me to be a smart ass (like normal) I won't be, because this is an art entry. So the past few days I've taken a dive back in time and been working with homemade pinhole cameras, which were the first kind of camers. (Also known as shoebox cameras) Basically you make a light-tight device, poke a hole in it, and expose the hole to light after putting in photo paper or film. Now the exposures themselves are a little tougher. You pretty much stare at the sun, try not to burn your retinas, and estimate a time. This time could be anywhere between 10 seconds and 10 minutes. Yes, there is a little experimentation involved. But thats the fun part! Actually is awfully frustrating. I killed a child out of anger today. Okay so I guess I am being a smart ass. Anyway, its a really good time and really rewarding to experiment and see what various things do. You make a camera out of anything really. I made one out of a pringles can yesterday and a PVC pipe today. If you are interested in learning how. Contact me and for the low low price of 39.99 an hour I'll show you how! And if you act now I'll throw in a free Shamwow! They pick up anything. But you have to contact me in the next 1.3 seconds, you know because we can't do this all day.

PS: I'm totally addicted to Twitter now. I feel like a pompous jerk for making fun of it and then getting one. So I am a pompous jerk. Damn it. The crazy crack lady on 45th street was right.

Travis 

The one about Foot in Mouth

I just pwned myself and got a Twitter account. This is quite contradictory to a previous post about how Twitter was for crazy people. I've found its a great way to see what people are up to. I really love YouTube and have a few favorite contributers. They all have Twitters and now that I have one I can find out when they are making a new video or posted a new video. So not so crazy in certain applications like mine. However, it would be weird if you used it to stalk people, like I don't know, say Megan Fox. Nope, not good for that. But I don't do that. Seriously. I don't. Shut up.

www.twitter.com/SirTravis

Travis

The one about Best Buy

Hold on kiddies. This one is epic.

Best Buy makes me uncomfortable. Not really the store. But the minions that work in it. You know the ones I speak of; blue shirted, kaki wearing, viciously helpful individuals who down right scare me. Yesterday I woke up with the perfectly normal thought of needing to return a universal remote that tragically did not work with my previously mentioned superior home entertainment system. I was upset that ten dollars of mine was locked up in a poor investment. So I promptly repackaged the remote and prepared to leave. It was during this preparation that I realized I was unsure of where I had bought the damned remote. However to my glee I remembered that I had saw one like it at my local Best Buy (hell on Earth). So I thought to myself, "They sell them, they should take it back, even without a receipt." This I later found was an ignorant assumption. I walked through the door and was greeted by one of Satan's yellow shirted security minions who literally said "Wad'a got for me?". My heart stopped. I was instantly transported back to my drug running days in Florida in the 70's. By drugs I mean prescription medication for the elderly and by 70's I mean never. But this was an awkward situation. I knew that I was unsure of where I had bought this item. I knew that if this electronics slave figured this out I would receive the full wrath of this evil institution in the form of a mugging consisting of being flogged with RCA cords and clearance signs. Or just refused the return. But remember, this was ten un-spendable dollars or seven minutes in heaven with former Senator Larry Craig. Which were the two choices I was presented with upon the return. But thats another story. Actually its not. Anyway, I managed to make it past the doorman to the customer service desk. This is where I started to feel the true heat of the flames emitting from the basement of enslaved consumers, that was undoubtedly beneath me. I again was welcomed by one of Satan's wife's in the form a male for some weird reason. After being informed that I was unable to produce a receipt (because it probably never existed) I was grilled with questions. Did I use a credit card? He was trying to track my purchase through government satellites and black magic called "computer". I was frightened. My shaky voice answered. His eyes lit with flame. Dark wings sprouted from his spine. He then inquired if I had used something called a "Rewards Zone" card. Clearly some kind of membership to the evil side. Something about being given prizes for the amount of good, kind hearted people (like myself) you capture. I again answer no. This was not pleasing. He grabbed a mouth piece and mumbled some kind of evil alien language of codes. His leader emerged from a dark cloud that seeped though the floor. This apparent king of this particular layer of hell typed something into this "computer" and vanished before my eyes. Upon completing this, the transaction was finished, as were my dreams of Senator Larry Craig due to the fact that I only received eight dollars. I did not question this because I simply wanted to escape with my life, and soul if it wasn't too much to ask. I wondered around the store for a few moments as to not attract any curious blue shirts. I then quickly retreated to the safety of my vehicle happy with an endeavor well executed.

Travis

The one about My Obsession

It is official. I am a typical American consumerist bastard. I have become ridiculously obsessed with home entertainment. In the last month I have acquired an HDTV and a 5.1 surround system. I wont say by what means, but I stole them. Thats not true. Seriously. Joe, from the FBI, my official statement is I didn't steal them. You'll never take me alive. I just can't stop working on making my system better and higher quality. I built stands for the speakers and hijacked my DVD player from my parents, which I was letting them borrow. Hey, it's mine. Anyway, I feel dirty. When I watch Jay Leno in amazing HD, so amazing it's like you could touch his illegally huge chin, with 5.1 Dolby Digital surround sound I think of the children. The children in Africa. Not the hungry ones. The ones who live in huts and don't have HDTV. It's not because they cant afford it, it is simply because Time Warner hasn't figured out a way to exploit them into paying for better signal strength. So I just want to have a Michael Jackson type sleepover, minus the rape, so that all the oppressed African children can see how truly large Leno's chin is. I mean it's monstrous. You could land not only a plane but a fleet of planes on it. It's really big. Seriously. Google it. Really.

Travis

The one about The Mission

As I am sure you have noticed. I am white. Very white. But for some reason when late night hits I love to force my iTunes (against it's will) to play Hip Hop. There is just something about dancing in the dark when no one can see you. I just thought how funny the previous sentence could be if "dancing" was replaced with "killing" or "making counterfeit money". So as I write this I am dancing the robot and lawnmower to Hip Hop. Jealous? Yes, I mean being jealous of a white kid dancing by himself in his room, in kakis and birkenstocks. Whatever. Tonight was a special night. I had awoke this morning with the exciting self-assigned mission to watch "The Incredible Hulk" circa 2008 with my new surround sound I got from Santa. (Thanks mythical jackass who ruined my childhood) Having finished this amazing piece of theatrical beauty I thought back to Ang Lee's "Hulk" circa 2003. I had seen this film five years ago and fell asleep during it. The only film ever that wins the completely worthless prize of being better than Nyquil. So I decided to watch the film. I jumped on to my favorite movie streaming site and began the fun (torture). I soon realized, five minutes into the seven minute intro, why the "Hulk" film adaption had been remade. Ang Lee's version is comparable to if Satan and Ron Jeremy made a child and that child ate a baby seal while they are both simultaneously being fed into a wood chipper and the "baby-seal chips" are being shot into an Alzheimer suffering, blind, elderly woman who wondered away from her home. It's bad. In fact, I couldn't watch it. Literally. I turned it off after 17 minutes of nothing. No action, no boobs, no Hip Hop. I've never seen any of Ang Lee's films. I don't count "Hulk" since I physically can't watch it. Falling asleep or otherwise. I don't plan to dip into any of Ang Lee's films ever again. Unless I need to put my self into a two hour coma or if I can't get a woman to leave my house. Ang Lee's "Hulk" should be the new form of "enhanced interrogation" the government loves to talk about. Just strap the poor bastard in. Thats just awful, no one deserves that.  

Travis

The one with The New Year Wish

Well comrades we made it. It's 2009 and everything is great. The economy is crashing, the government can't find the 700 billion we loaned them for them to loan, and I'll probably be water boarded for saying "comrades". Speaking of the dirty reds, (more patriotic I trust) Cuba is celebrating 50 wonderful years of shared wealth, driving old cars, and the U.S. embargo. AKA 50 years of kick-ass Communism. All right! Way to go Cuba. Momma is proud of you. Anyway, as I mentioned its a new year, and if you are still in your liquor induced comma you needed me to say that again. 2009 means exciting things to come! Well actually the only things I can think of are we are one year closer to humankind being annihilated in 2012 according to the Mayans and that Large Hadron Collider is supposed to create a black hole sometime this summer. Man, I love conspiracy theorists. Remember that cult that all wore Nikes and poisoned themselves with the brilliant idea to catch a ride on Halles Comet? No? Me neither. But I hope something along those lines happens in 2012. Like perhaps a group of people band together to create a human ladder that reaches into space only to discover their mothership only accepts members with rattails. So only that douche Jimbo from back in the ninth grade gets to go. Whoa, that would make a great MTV True Life. "I just got left behind by my mothership because I wasn't redneck enough." Those interviews would be hilarious. But this all hinges in that damn Mayan calender. Its funny how people believe that the Mayans could predict the extinction of the human race, but not their own race. Thats like saying, "My dad was president, why can't I?" Okay now I'm definitely getting water boarded. 

Travis