Bobert Flotsam Presents Travis Bickle's 'I have decided to become less alive' (Sponsored by Burger Queenie)

Hi. As mentioned in the earlier post, I am Bobert Flotsam. Today's post will present in the ultimate clarity that which will blow your mind. This is Travis Bickle at the concentric circles of a thousand millenia folded origamically into a tiny blog of a nothing. This, in essence, is that which has no essence. That which will never be what it could have been because it could have never been anything unless it was something, which it WAS! The most fascinating human being on Earth and perhaps in all of the Earths of the Milky Way has descended from his Earthly realm in the ether surrounding the Earth and perhaps outer Earth and has proclaimed that which will live in utter definition of being once it has been defined. But, can it be? Yes, yes it can.

Or can it?

I woke up this morning to the smell of something I haven't adjusted to since I moved here. I have decided not to write what it is, as it will most likely kill the suspense, but lets just say, adjustments will most likely never be made.

I ate my breakfast - today it was leftover chili with cheddar cheese - and I went back to bed. This bed is comfortable. I call it a bed, but - really - its just a leather sofa with a blanket.

She comes by often. She gives me what I ask for, and has the ability to leave once we talk for a while. She knows as well as I that it is what it is. I hope she does not hate me when I am 560 and she is 562.

The weight I gain must be a sign from the Heavens that the world has finally warped around the equator, and the poles are shifting. If this is so, I recommend divesting from oil and into gold, food, and medicine.

Quickly, quickly, he said as he drove the spikes within the hands of the christ.

Bobert Flotsam Presents the Travis Bickle Phenom Day 1 (Sponsored by Taco Schnell)

Hello. My name is Bobert Flotsam. I'm a blog maker. I make a lot of food blogs. That little block of cheese that chases the ham underneath the rye bread? That was mine. In 1996, I went down to McAwesomeland, Frank Lloyd Wright City to a rock club called the Schmelectric Bandana. Don't look for it, it's not there anymore. But that night I heard the ravings of a man that for me redefined the word "paranoid schizophrenic". I remember being knocked out by his exuberance, his raw power -- and his punctuality. That man was Titanium Alley's now-legendary Travis Bickle. Ten years and fifteen Phenomena later, Travis Bickle is still going strong, and he's earned a distinguished place in ranting history as one of Titanium Alley's loudest ravers. So in the late fall of 2006 when I heard that Bick was releasing a new Phenomenon called 'Sell Your Gold and Own A Rock' and was planning his first tour of the United States in almost 3 years to promote it, well needless to say I jumped at the chance to make the documentary, the, if you will, blogumentary that you're about to witness. I wanted to capture the sights, the sounds, the schmells, of a hard-working psychotic on the road. And I got that. But I got more, a lot more. But hey -- enough of my yakkin'. Whaddaya say, let's boogie!


Over the course of the last few weeks, I have been schmelled up here in the late Antonius's dilapidated home. The dry wall seems to be leaking rotten fish, the couch left behind has a microcosm of the rain forest which seems to dislike it when I attempt to sleep there, and the blinds are rotting; everything is rotting. I was informed that the inside of your retinas are actually rotting and that is why separation occurs.

So, I went through the whole guilt thing, but then again, she decided long before me. And I was the one that said not to, and she went and did it anyways. That's why I don't really care anymore. I'm just doing what I'm doing when I'm doing it, unless I'm not doing it, and in that case, I'm not doing it.

I went to the store the other day to buy some ice cream and some neosporin, and there was this girl, lady, female human, that appeared quite illustrious and beautiful. She kept calling me "Sweetie." I found it endearing and intolerable at the same time. I mumbled under my breath that I loved her as I gave her the finger.

I walked to the post office to buy some stamps, but only at the moment of reaching their door did I realize that it was after midnight and that buying stamps might not be on the plate. I went to the fire department and sat around a while inside the fire truck before I walked to the aquarium store. I looked inside the window, and noticed all the fish. Do store fish have mercury? Apparently, most fish in the world have it, but do harvested store fish have it? Mercurial water should be paired with Ambrosia and fed to the Kings and Queens of those hierarchical African lands.

In my formative years, I drank rum.