Hello from Kentucky.

Click the picture for a better view.  These are the mountains that I grew up in.

Back to the old house . . . for a while.

The picture above is of Megan Epperson at an overlook in Cumberland Kentucky.  If she would have taken one more single step forward, or if she had slipped, Megan Epperson wouldn't be a name that refers to a girl that is currently alive, it would refer to a dead body that is probably part of a bear's diet.

-Matt

It's time . . .

. . . to go into LiveJournal mode for a while.

-Matt

Personal And The Pizzas @ The Old Miami in Detroit, MI.

    The other day I went to see Personal And The Pizzas, a punk band from New Jersey.  They played with two other bands who just so happen to suck very bad like.  This was my first time to The Old Miami and I think it has won the position of #1 sweetest bar that I've been to yet in Detroit.  They have an awesome jukebox that doesn't cost TOO much, dudes hanging out and playing records instead of a radio, walls covered with Vietnam memorabilia, a back yard area that rules to a ridiculous extent, and they host some awesome bands regularly.  My only complaint is that Maker's Mark costs $7 a drink.  That's not TOO bad since I only occasionally have one single drink, but it's not fair to the bourbon drinkers of planet earth.
    ANYWAYS!  The Old Miami rules and Personal And The Pizzas rules.  Check out these two videos I shot while I was there!

Personal And The Pizzas - Brass Knuckles

Personal And The Pizzas - Never Find Me

Enjoy!

I love all of you.

-Matt

Friends come, and then they go . . . back home.

    As always, I had trouble sleeping.  With the time being around 4 AM, sitting at my aunt's house while she visits her dying sister in Kentucky (my other aunt) taking care of her trio of babies that just so happen to be chihuahuas, not much productivity can come from a person.  Frustrated with not being able to slow my brain from racing in every direction all at once, I hop on my bike and go to Dunkin' Donuts.
    I spent roughly two hours sitting at Dunkin' Donuts dipping bagels into my decaffeinated coffee (blasphemous, I know).  The first half of my two hour stint there was spent renaming wireless networks to stupid stuff that I wont publicize on here out of stupid paranoia.  The latter half of the two hour period was spent making this:

    The song is by a band called "The Whoopass Girls," and the track is titled "Old Red."  They're just some midwestern kids making sloppy, care-free music.  It's real, raw, and truthful.  Check 'em out.  If you're into them, check out the other from 'em that's along the same lines under the band names "Henry Bemis Is A Super Hero," "The Loneliest Cowgirls," "Screaming And Dreaming," and . . . I feel like I'm forgetting one of them . . .

    I miss all of my friends.

    Personal and the Pizza's tonight at The Old Miami in Detroit.  Probably going solo, oh well, it will be a good time.  I wish that teleportation devices existed so all of my friends from Kentucky and around the world could tag along.


-Matt

The sky looks pissed.

That's lightning going on in the clouds.  Probably the scariest looking clouds I've ever seen in my life.  I don't think I've ever seen clouds roll so quickly, especially while lighting up as if they were preparing to release a horseman or two.

Rarrr.

I am into things.

    Going through a single semi-recent folder of photos I've edited, I discovered a few things that I'm into as of late, they are as follows:

PLAYING WITH TOY LENSES.

PLAYYYYYING WITH TOY LENSES.

READING GREAT BOOKS.

MAKING STENCILS.

LIVING IN A SCARY LOOKING HOUSE WHEN IT STORMS.

GETTING POSSESSED BY THE SPIRIT OF PATRICK SWAYZE. 

FEEDING DINOSAURS LIQUOR.

GETTING MAIL.

RIDING BIKES (WITH PEOPLE).

LOOKING AT SPACE IN MY BACK YARD.

TEACHING PEOPLE SPELLS.

-Matt

Pick Any Number From One Through Nineteen.

Click the picture if you want to be able to see each individual print.

NUMBERS ALREADY CHOSEN:  ‎3, 4, 6, 9, 11, 12, 13, 14, 15, 16, 17, 19


    Alright, this is long overdue.  Twenty-one things have fallen off of my wall since the last time I sent any postcards sailing.  Now that takes a long time to happen, well, a month or two, but taking into consideration the frequency at which I was updating my blog at before, this is nothing short of ridiculous.
    Oh well, the nineteen pieces pictured above remain homeless and they're up for adoption.  How do you get one?  Well, you have a few routes.  All of the routes that you have to choose from have one thing in common, and that's you picking a number, any number, from one through nineteen.  You can tell me the number that you have chosen by commenting on this post (preferred route!), you can e-mail it to me at mattimeoo@gmail.com, you can call and tell me or leave it in a voicemail, you can text it to me, you can instant message it to me, you can send it in a message on any platform you have me on, you can mail me a letter, or you could always come over and just tell it to me the old-fashioned way.
    What happened to the missing two?  Well, I mailed them out already.  A picture of some Indian transvestites to Mr. Shane Terry and a picture of a homeless kid as an inspirational adolescent anti-role model to the new to planet Earth baby child of Sasha Ousley and Jared McKinney, little tiny Misha McKinney.

SUMMARY:
Pick any number from 1 through 19.  Each number will correspond with a print that I've labeled with one of the numbers on the back.  I take your number, find the print that the number matches, and I mail it to you.  It's that simple.  Go!


-Matt