Smug Life.

It's about 1am, and I've been drinking Jameson since 3pm, so forgive me if this is crass, but...what is the fucking deal with your photography? I mean shit I feel like I'm in the darkroom of my junior year in high school taking it up the ass from some asshole wearing a A&F collared shirt (with the collar poped, of course). I haven't seen such bad work since being stoned first period in Miss. Hyatts class thinking to myself: "Why the fuck is everyone so bad at this photography shit?" It's like "Hey look! I took a photograph of a flower! Now a waterfall! Now a flower, and another flower, and another flower, wait here's a stupid photo of myself that doubles as my myspace profile photo, and then look here's my dog, and here's my cd's and look I've used Microsoft Paint to put a shitty poem ontop of my photograph about how much I'm like the sterotypical 16 year old suburban brat, Someone please take me to prom....please." I'm tired of it. It makes my head hurt, but then I stop wondering why people buy my prints for obsene amounts and why magazines fight over me for next month's editoral. If you think I'm an asshole, you're right. I am an asshole. I'm a total egotystical NYC artist who doesn't give a fuck about your abilities to make a photograph black and white and then use photoshop to make some totally pointless detail color. Nobody gives a flying fuck which petal of the rose is red, or if any of them are. With that I bring you three girls in bikinis in Sodus Point, NY for Vice magazine.