The Passion of the Travis

Let me tell you a little story about the time I went and saw “The Passion of the Christ”. This is a true story....promise.

My Girlfriend at the time had (and still has) a ridiculously fanatical religious family. (This story already has a lot of momentum) Her parents sat in line at the theatre ALL day to buy tickets to see the movie for everyone in their “church”, and for some reason they bought one for me. Normally they would pretend that they forgot about me and that they were sorry…”next time, though!” Whatever, they decided to give me more experience with their nutty-ass-fundamentalist-bullshit and told me that God said, “It is time to include Travis.” They said that God said…don’t make me repeat that. Well great, I’m glad that when they hear voices they do the same thing I do…act on it. For them, the voice is God, and a good thing. For me the voice is not God and makes me take a piss on my clothes. “Hey Trav, look, the clothes hamper has a lid just like the toilet” (true story for another day) Picture this: It is day after the movie premiered world wide. I’m going with 30 or so tongue-speaking-god-channeling-right-path-seeking Christians. I am still me.

I’m sitting in a movie theatre filled to the brim. Packed. Loaded. The normal jovial experience of seeing a movie shared by everyone. Difference is? It’s an after school youth group and a middle aged bible study circle combined with a third element that is normally not there…fun.

Everyone is so excited.

My insides are screaming with laughter and hatred.

As the movie starts, everyone is shushing and reminding their neighbors to turnoff their cell phones. Then begins the “drudgery”. I won’t make the same jokes about him falling down a lot, but jeepers creepers he falls down a lot and it is in a super slow motion that is making you make faces of intense anticipation. Mouth hung open. Cat ‘o’ nine tails, crown of thorns, blood, all that shit. What is happening on the screen is only half of what is going on. With every blow to Jesus from the Roman guards, people are wincing as if they are a horse in the Kentucky Derby. I hear a man wearing a short sleeved shirt with a tie and pocket protector (no shit), whisper, “That must have hurt.” My Girlfriend is clutching a dripping Kleenex, crying, and reaching for my hand to hold. When she can’t find my hand, she looks at me in the bright light of some sunlit desert scene, only to find that I’m contorting my face with my fingertips and pressing one nostril closed at a time while spreading my eyelids really wide. I’m caught, so I turn to her and in my best Bruce Willis, I say “poor bastard”.

I’m now being shushed by her mother and getting the hairy eyeball from her dad. I’m wiggling uncomfortably in my chair from boredom caused by the shitty movie and my back is sore from pushing my Van home the night before to avoid a DUI. (true story for another time) Then in front of my eyes, a few of the nut balls are now raising their hands toward the silver screen, crying and moaning. They are trying to touch Jesus. It is a fucking movie! What the fuck!? I’m sitting in the middle of “Circus-Ridiculous-Obnoxious” and I’m in the middle of pretending this whole scene is happening in the 20’s with gangster mob voices. “See hear?, I’m Jesus, ya hear? Don’t make trouble see? Or I’ll fashion you some cement galoshes. See?”

Then it happened. It was bound to happen. Unavoidable. No way it wasn’t going to occur.

Bee boo boo bee bee, bee boo boo bee bee. A Nokia cell phone wants to answered.

Somewhere a 16 year old girl is wondering if her best friend is still sitting in that God-fucking-forsakin’ movie. Maybe I’ll call her. Speed dial number 1. Calling. Ring. Ring.

The best friend dives for her pocket, heads turn, mouths open, fingers are beginning to point, but before anyone can say a word, from the back of the theatre you hear a body builder wrapped in a bear, riding a bulldozer, fucking a fat chick, yell these words…

“Turn that fucking shit off!”

This has just become the best movie I have ever seen.

Tip o' the day.

If you have met me, I was either playing the drums, walking my dog, on my computer at the Break, or drunk. Sorry.

The new secret to life is a responsible diet of Red Bull and Jagermiester. You will say alot of things that you shouldn't (although honest) and your apartment will have never been cleaner and organized.

On a more serious note. Go to www.pandora.com and set up your own radio station. You get to put in your favorite artists and it picks out songs from those artists, plus new and old music that is similar. You can rate music as it goes by and customize the station to your tastes. It is badass.

Search and Rescue

The band visited Red Lodge and played at the Bull 'n' Bear Saloon. People Rejoiced!

The turn out was a little slim, but the room was awesome, the people were awesome, the event was awesome, and the John Sporman is awesome. John rocked through the entire gig with his upright bass and I have never seen him smile so much. We drank a ton of Red Lodge Ales(Thanks Sam!) and played for a great cause (Thanks John Trapp). CD's were sold and we left wearing our Carbon Co. Search and Rescue hats proudly!

New discoveries!

I talk too much. Last night I tried to talk to everyone I knew at the Pig Roast. I was stalking the Old Post like a Oil Industry Lobbyist. Last nights show sponsors were Red Bull and Jager...

Heaven.

It took me hours to fall asleep. I couldn't believe how pumped I was. I'm still a little jacked and it is 1:00 the next day. I also came up with a new hand gesture last night and I'm hoping that it will be the next craze.

Moving your life

Since the year 2000 I have moved 7 times.

205 Aber
601 Brooks
329 E Front St #B9
11170 Napton, Lolo
909 E Beckwith #2
2023 34th
502 E Front

Now I'm moving to Cooper! It is going to be my first roommate-less experience. I have had the best roommate that anyone could ask for, but I'm so happy to have this little house all to my self. When I say little, I mean little. But that is ok, I only need a couple of things to survive and I will have a nice organized and compact space for Barley and I.

The one thing that I have learned in the last 7 years, is that you have to buy yourself some good Rubbermaid Totes. You don't want to have to find a shit load of boxes the week before you move. You also don't want the cheap totes like "Steralite", they are brittle and won't match for stacking with your other Rubbermaid Totes. Do yourself a favor.

I can proudly say that I'm good at moving, anything you practice regularly, you will probably get good at. I can now move my entire life in one day. As most of you know, I'm a little high-strung and I stress out a little when I have to move. It pays off though, when I get to sit in my chair with Barley and relax in my over organized, scrutanized, and blueprint-i-nized home.

Life is hard on the road/Friends are missed

The band played a festival in Salmon Idaho on friday night and a private function in Chico Hot Springs on Saturday. We had a little rain on friday night before the show and the crowd was a little sparse, but they loved it. I feel very lucky to do what I do!

Friends are leaving. More specifically, a friend that left long ago, is leaving again, this time for Africa! Kjessie and I opened the coffee shop every monday through friday morning for months and months. She survived and I feel lucky to have spent the time with her. Thank you for the advice that I didn't take and drinking to much with me!

Please don't rain

We have an outdoor show in Salmon Idaho this friday and I hope it doesn't rain.

Holy Shit!, I talk to much!

I talk a lot. I love to have conversations with everyone! I love talking to people I don't know, and people I've known for years. I love talking about myself and I love finding out about others.

but...

Then I start drinking...

I will talk for long periods of time about nothing. Random stories, anecdotes, similarities to movies, favorite songs, and god forbid you ask me about the inner workings of a band or playing the drums or past relationships, I will not shut up! I have to remind myself constantly that I want to know about the other person, then try to figure out how to tie together like 40 minutes of rambling. The word tangent isn't even close to describing the hours of off-the-wall shit I will talk about.

also...

I think I'm funny...

I think I'm hilarious. Most people can't finish their first sentence of the night without me inserting a punchline. My voice is actually horse from talking non-stop all night and laughing loudly at my own jokes. I won't even mention the swearing, or the topics that would make even my best friends feel bad for whoever decided to sit at my table. I leave thinking I just "killed" at the Apollo Theatre, but wake the next morning with a feeling that my sense of humor threw up all over someone's conversation, and my talking trampled there points and stories to bits.

but...

At least, I always have a blast.

The show must go on....yes, please!

Nothing compares to the experience that has been with the Clerics. This is one fo the first gigs that I've have that I'm allowed to do whatever I want, with in the style of music, whatever you call it. I've never been so worn out and drained after a show, then the big show with Tom. Every lick, fill, stick flip, and technique is used, while still remaining quite simple. Throwing my body around, leaving the seat, splitting knuckles, and screaming. No one has more fun then I do. I've watched Tom go from being scared to death of being to loud and rockin', to seeing four guys on stage making folk music, swing and pop, cool for everyone. The crowd grows with you as you ease into the first songs, till your sweating and pumping the audience with good straight ahead music with lots of energy. You spend the whole night just trying to make everyone like it as much as you do.

Then you're done, leaving only crushed PBR and Red Bull Cans, broken drumsticks, and hopefully one more person that says things like, "Wow, you guys rock!, I thought it was going to be like John Denver or some shit, but then you guys kicked ass!" (I wonder what John Denver would've sounded like with The Clerics)