Tables.

DSC03594, originally uploaded by a_static_65.

Taking pictures on them is neat.

Fiddlers Reach Winery

DSC03674-2, originally uploaded by a_static_65.

After partaking in my daily ritual of lunch with my grandfather, I went on a journey of biblical proportions. (Well, truth be told it was a mile down a completely civilized and paved road).

I went to Fiddlers Reach Winery. This dude makes Honey Wine, or Meade. Not going to lie, shit looked delicious. And it's more legit than that garbage you get at a renaissance fair(e?).

I was waiting for him to give me a "free bottle to sample", but that event simply never took place. It was a relatively fun shoot. I got to see where the wine was made, the storage facility, labeling, etc.

Hopefully I can take some pictures of the Cold River Vodka facility. That would be pretty balls, if I do say so myself.

Night lights.

Downtown Bath small, originally uploaded by a_static_65.

Main Street Bath.

I wish I lived here. But I don't.

I wish I had a tripod set up for this shot, but I didn't.

I wish I had a tripod that belonged to me. Instead of my mostly absent minded ex girlfriend. [Note to self: Invest in photography equipment].

Also, another thing that really tickles my fancy: I have to layout a 32 page publication this week. There are 65 ads. That's roughly 2 ads per page of the publication.

This is stupid.

There needs to be a smaller publication size or more fucking ads. I can't magically materialize content to fill these mostly vacant pages that populate this unbound mess of a newspaper. Editorial doesn't grow on trees.

Pt. 2

I take too many photos.

http://www.designbyhumans.com <- Go there, buy cool shirts.

I'm dreaming of a white noise Christmas

Rejoice.

Christmas.

Over the past few days, I have slowly come to terms that I am NOT excited for Christmas. I don't have anything to look forward to.

It's not about gifts. I could honestly care less. To be quite honest, I have no reason to want to see my family. A two hour drive to see people that (for the most part) annoy me.

Why are people wrapped so tightly by this material driven holiday?



Anyways, I don't like it.

Post One: Hollywood.

Hello to all that might be reading.

In this blog, I will mostly be discussing:

Current events
People
Salt
Ironclad ships
Indochina
Peanut butter on the roof of your mouth
and other subjects that follow suit.

However, today I am discussing the subculture of emo kids who have an odd, but very vocal obsession with the name "Hollywood".

Look, faggots, I don't care who you are. You aren't "Hollywood" unless that's how your name appears on your birth certificate. I don't give a shit taken by an unborn fetus if you are trying to be the next MYSPACE CELEBRITY. However, if you do try to attain this common goal among faggots, then you should consider slashing your wrists. Prime example: Asshat.

The URL you unfortunately just clicked on is the myspace of Doug Hancock. I had the unfortunate experience of attending college with this person, and I can tell you that his constant chain smoking and disregard for personal hygiene was appalling. He is now under the conception that his "cool status" has gone up substantially due to his less than exemplary success in the world of "design your own clothes". These clothes are based around this Hollywood theme. His selection is vomit inducing. If you are in the market for looking like a cock smack, then email me for the link: fuck_you@SuckMyDick.com

In summation, if the thought enters your mind to deem yourself "Hollywood", and traipse around like a homeless person that has a piercing fetish... You should start sniffing glue immediately; or at least until you lull yourself into a coma. Then you can do yourself the favor of not coming back out of the woods.

-T.