New York City does sleep. Usually when the weather is shit or after 3 am on a weeknight before Thursday. The constant here is that your survival instinct is always on and those without financially comfortable careers are always in contemplation of where their next dollar will come from. Those who don't plan their income find themselves on the streets or on some form of cheap public transportation back home.
I've maintained my aggressive pursuit of survival and success in modeling as well as in the general life of a city goer. Since I transitioned from catering work to being a coat check boy at the gay bar I've gotten used to long nights on the weekends with quite an unpredictable guarantee that I'll make a decent income for the evening. Coat check aside, jobs still exude through the sketchy gates of Craigslist and I've some how managed to maintain a constant flow of again an unpredictable guarantee of a decent income.
One new job I've acquired from Craigslist which relates to modeling is "Fit Modeling". A mens shirt designer posted an announcement searching for a fit model and I managed to get the job. Fit modeling is basically acting as an opinionated mannequin for a clothing designer to report any discomfort in size and any other thoughts in regards to the final cut of the piece. I met with the designer 3 times before he permitted the group who would be fabricating the shirts to go ahead with production.
We met in the second floor of a building on west 38th street in Manhattan. The room was long and artificially lit with multiple long fluorescent bulbs, the ones that make you feel like you're in a lab or a stale office building and all of the workers were of Asian descent. Clothes of many varieties were either on hangers or on mannequins and I took from my observation that the people I saw worked with designers to put their art into production to send to the consumers. It was a really neat experience to see a new step in the process of how clothes come to be.
At my first appointment I was measured thoroughly as my body shape was to be the mold for which the shirt would be created. The "work" for the next two meetings itself was effortless as all I was asked to do was merely put on the shirt which was of a low quality fabric the business used to make test runs for the designers to check measurements and use on their fit models. They asked how the piece felt on me, how easily I could move my arms, and if I could recommend any changes.
The section of the shirt in between my shoulder blades was where my only comment was instigated as it was a bit tight. After speaking of my discomfort they said they'd add 3/4 of an inch to the location where it was tight and other than that the shirt was ready to go. The designer added a few minor alterations such as pocket location and collar width but other than that the shirt was good to go.
I got paid in cash and was thanked sincerely for my laid back attitude and professionalism by the designer. He said that he'd like to continue to use me throughout his work and that he'd like to use me for his look book (basically a catalog) which equates to more money I can look forward to also the potential of getting more images to use in my portfolio. Getting paid to have your photo taken is one thing but then when you receive quality photos with potential to be placed in your book its a really nice feeling because most of the time the photographer is the one getting your money or you or your agent has to request a free test, its a win win scenario.
Networking, as I've said before is a large part to the success in modeling so the more designers I work with the more confidence and optimism I get that good things are right around the corner and with fashion week around the corner I need to do as much as possible to get my name out there.
More to Come Soon
Sunday, December 5, 2010
Friday, November 5, 2010
I am FAT
So I've had this frequent occurrence lately where people seriously have been calling me fat. No matter how kindly they try to put it, its like a handicap people awkwardly observe and freely announce. Many people ask me how that makes me feel-to be called fat with the physique that I've got. I'm not self conscious (just yet) about myself nor my body and I strive to just say Hey It Is What It Is but when people start calling you fat and you have less than 10% body fat its sort of frustrating considering the amount of time I put in at the gym.
I work out religiously and have stubbornly come to the point where I finally embrace that even if I work out for 5 hours a day I can't eat yodels and burgers after my work outs and expect to achieve the goals I have for my physique. My abdominals are like bears in hibernation and the fat on top is like a cold winters frozen temperatures. I will not have flawless (fatless rather) abs until the winters air ( a new diet is Spring weather ) thaws and I get 95% discipline in my diet.
Like being called fat another constant in my NY life is the question of how intensely do I want to be a model. The answer determines the effort I'm willing to put forth to make success a reality. While there's a lot of bad in the industry the small percentage of good almost makes it worth the constant negativity. Working with designers and aspiring photographers is an enlightening experience.
I once used to be in love with art whether it be music or simple drawing. As life has passed reality has flooded my thought process with distraction from my artistic endeavors and now there is a serious diminished interest which is sad. When I see an emerging designer or up and coming photographer an attractive characteristic I observe is the heart filled passion they put into their work. Creating a new piece for the line or contemplating a new concept to shoot is just as exciting to them as a child opening the first gift at their birthday party and that reminds me of my days of passion and enthusiasm. Sure I put a lot of effort into modeling but my passion for it is not there, my enthusiasm for New York City has faded, I've reached the point where one seeking something new relocates their residence and acquires the "geographical fix".
I was recently on a shoot with a female model from Finland and we were chatting of traveling and moving around the world. We both agreed that we as humans most always want what we can't have and that it is very necessary to incorporate variety into your life especially in regards to travel. Now that the streets of New York aren't new I seek a change. I do not foresee another opportunity to get a geographical fix in the near future so I shall incorporate more variety into my life.
There will always be constants but a great way to add variety to my boring (and one of the benefits of modeling-shooting with new people all the time) is to add to my network of acquaintances. Every day I email many people I don't know and either introduce myself so that they may consider me for future projects (whether they be designers or photographers) or inquire with stylists or hair and make up artists to see if they're interested in testing (shooting) with me. I suppose you could say I'm an explorer and since most of the earth has already been discovered I opt to explore people and sift through the good and the bad. Since I cannot travel as much as I'd like I suppose something I am semi passionate about is meeting new people and seeing where our relationship leads me to.
It could be a casting director for a shoot whom I shot with that calls me up randomly months after a shoot to see if I'm available that day for a last minute project or a photographer that I haven't heard from in ages that remembered our test and wanted to see if I'd be interested in another collaboration, you never know where a good first impression/encounter could lead. So-Look at this-in this one writing I've realized that I still have a passion in modeling indirectly and its through the adventures it lures me into...brilliant
I work out religiously and have stubbornly come to the point where I finally embrace that even if I work out for 5 hours a day I can't eat yodels and burgers after my work outs and expect to achieve the goals I have for my physique. My abdominals are like bears in hibernation and the fat on top is like a cold winters frozen temperatures. I will not have flawless (fatless rather) abs until the winters air ( a new diet is Spring weather ) thaws and I get 95% discipline in my diet.
Like being called fat another constant in my NY life is the question of how intensely do I want to be a model. The answer determines the effort I'm willing to put forth to make success a reality. While there's a lot of bad in the industry the small percentage of good almost makes it worth the constant negativity. Working with designers and aspiring photographers is an enlightening experience.
I once used to be in love with art whether it be music or simple drawing. As life has passed reality has flooded my thought process with distraction from my artistic endeavors and now there is a serious diminished interest which is sad. When I see an emerging designer or up and coming photographer an attractive characteristic I observe is the heart filled passion they put into their work. Creating a new piece for the line or contemplating a new concept to shoot is just as exciting to them as a child opening the first gift at their birthday party and that reminds me of my days of passion and enthusiasm. Sure I put a lot of effort into modeling but my passion for it is not there, my enthusiasm for New York City has faded, I've reached the point where one seeking something new relocates their residence and acquires the "geographical fix".
I was recently on a shoot with a female model from Finland and we were chatting of traveling and moving around the world. We both agreed that we as humans most always want what we can't have and that it is very necessary to incorporate variety into your life especially in regards to travel. Now that the streets of New York aren't new I seek a change. I do not foresee another opportunity to get a geographical fix in the near future so I shall incorporate more variety into my life.
There will always be constants but a great way to add variety to my boring (and one of the benefits of modeling-shooting with new people all the time) is to add to my network of acquaintances. Every day I email many people I don't know and either introduce myself so that they may consider me for future projects (whether they be designers or photographers) or inquire with stylists or hair and make up artists to see if they're interested in testing (shooting) with me. I suppose you could say I'm an explorer and since most of the earth has already been discovered I opt to explore people and sift through the good and the bad. Since I cannot travel as much as I'd like I suppose something I am semi passionate about is meeting new people and seeing where our relationship leads me to.
It could be a casting director for a shoot whom I shot with that calls me up randomly months after a shoot to see if I'm available that day for a last minute project or a photographer that I haven't heard from in ages that remembered our test and wanted to see if I'd be interested in another collaboration, you never know where a good first impression/encounter could lead. So-Look at this-in this one writing I've realized that I still have a passion in modeling indirectly and its through the adventures it lures me into...brilliant
Monday, November 1, 2010
My new job as a coat check man @ a gay bar
New York City life is a hustle and hustling requires extra energy. With prolonged exposure to the hustle I've encountered an exhaustion I can't seem to kick. I feel that the intelligent resolution to the situation is to counter the hustle characteristics I've flooded my life with upon moving to NYC with somewhat of a more simple lifestyle. The main experience I had when moving to the city was an instability in my schedule. I was doing work from craigslist, flyering, catering, as well as striving to shoot as much as possible all of which proved to be successful but increased my internal pace and set a subconscious anxiety in place.
Modeling is currently not paying me anything and all I've been getting from my photo shoots is new photos instead of new checks. With that I've been forced to work more and since I feel I need to center myself due to the instability in my schedule I've decided to find a steady job. Most jobs in the city require loads of experience to get hired and since I'm not highly skilled in many forms of employment I decided to pursue a different avenue.
I knew I could find some type of work at a gay bar or at least entice some gay manager to hire a young male model so I emailed all the gay clubs in the city and got a few replies back. A small club/lounge/bar in the west village called XES sent me an email asking me to come in for an interview for the "coat check" position. I figured it would be common sense work so I said I was experienced and was welcomed at my interview. The general manager of the club met with me and said he'd give me a chance to see how I worked with the "team". My first night was Thursday night-Karaoke night.
I got to the bar for 5 pm and the manager showed me where my equipment was and where I was to hang the coats. I set up a small table close to the front door and queued up a few ticket tags for the hangers. The manager that hired me got me a roll of tape for bags (to tape tickets to a bag) and the most necessary tool for my success-a tip jar. When I was ready to go I stood at my position and awaited the crowd. The shitty thing is that there is no closet to hang coats I have to walk up and down the stairs for each item-fml
The bar gets a good rush for happy hour-buy one get one free from 6 to 9 and I arrived at 5 so I had a small crowd there already but few coats. There is a lull in activity until about 11 or 12 and then the true party people come out and I get most of my business. The more alcohol one consumes there the more likely I'm going to get a tip.
I find it very humorous when an older guy clearly drunk and blatantly gay comes up to me not knowing I'm the coat check guy even though I've got my table and a sign that says "FREE COAT CHECK" and tries chatting with me. They'll stumble in front of me and stare for a few seconds-few minutes if they're wasted and then engage in a failure of communication. Some guys will let me know they've been looking at me all night wondering why I'm standing in the corner or will say something like "you look like you're not having any fun" and I'll give them a fake smile and nonchalantly point to the "COAT CHECK" sign above my head and inform them that I am an employee of the bar not a patron or sometimes just point to the sign and follow it with silence so their slow thought process is evident to them without a verbal explanation from myself.
I worked halloween night and one guy asked me what my costume was being that I was holding a coat hanger. Again I gave the fake smile (but wish I said, dude are fuckin dull?) and pointed to the sign. At least he was keen enough to make it humorous and say "well I'm not the smartest cookie". Right.
So I get an hourly rate as well as tips and the tips make the job worth it. Catering made me a little more money but not by much and with that you had to look proper, deal with arrogant cocky assholes (serving them not ALWAYS working with them), and the hours were so random plus the payment was always delayed. Cash money every night and a paycheck every other week, it works. So I've found some stability in employment and when mixed with a daily gym workout things should get back under control just in time for the crazy Fashion Week scheduling-LOVELY.
Modeling is currently not paying me anything and all I've been getting from my photo shoots is new photos instead of new checks. With that I've been forced to work more and since I feel I need to center myself due to the instability in my schedule I've decided to find a steady job. Most jobs in the city require loads of experience to get hired and since I'm not highly skilled in many forms of employment I decided to pursue a different avenue.
I knew I could find some type of work at a gay bar or at least entice some gay manager to hire a young male model so I emailed all the gay clubs in the city and got a few replies back. A small club/lounge/bar in the west village called XES sent me an email asking me to come in for an interview for the "coat check" position. I figured it would be common sense work so I said I was experienced and was welcomed at my interview. The general manager of the club met with me and said he'd give me a chance to see how I worked with the "team". My first night was Thursday night-Karaoke night.
I got to the bar for 5 pm and the manager showed me where my equipment was and where I was to hang the coats. I set up a small table close to the front door and queued up a few ticket tags for the hangers. The manager that hired me got me a roll of tape for bags (to tape tickets to a bag) and the most necessary tool for my success-a tip jar. When I was ready to go I stood at my position and awaited the crowd. The shitty thing is that there is no closet to hang coats I have to walk up and down the stairs for each item-fml
The bar gets a good rush for happy hour-buy one get one free from 6 to 9 and I arrived at 5 so I had a small crowd there already but few coats. There is a lull in activity until about 11 or 12 and then the true party people come out and I get most of my business. The more alcohol one consumes there the more likely I'm going to get a tip.
I find it very humorous when an older guy clearly drunk and blatantly gay comes up to me not knowing I'm the coat check guy even though I've got my table and a sign that says "FREE COAT CHECK" and tries chatting with me. They'll stumble in front of me and stare for a few seconds-few minutes if they're wasted and then engage in a failure of communication. Some guys will let me know they've been looking at me all night wondering why I'm standing in the corner or will say something like "you look like you're not having any fun" and I'll give them a fake smile and nonchalantly point to the "COAT CHECK" sign above my head and inform them that I am an employee of the bar not a patron or sometimes just point to the sign and follow it with silence so their slow thought process is evident to them without a verbal explanation from myself.
I worked halloween night and one guy asked me what my costume was being that I was holding a coat hanger. Again I gave the fake smile (but wish I said, dude are fuckin dull?) and pointed to the sign. At least he was keen enough to make it humorous and say "well I'm not the smartest cookie". Right.
So I get an hourly rate as well as tips and the tips make the job worth it. Catering made me a little more money but not by much and with that you had to look proper, deal with arrogant cocky assholes (serving them not ALWAYS working with them), and the hours were so random plus the payment was always delayed. Cash money every night and a paycheck every other week, it works. So I've found some stability in employment and when mixed with a daily gym workout things should get back under control just in time for the crazy Fashion Week scheduling-LOVELY.
Tuesday, September 21, 2010
Ryan
My name is Ryan. I am a 25 year old male from Kentucky. My mother died when I was 14 and my father was a wealthy unloving father who raised me harshly. I got into the drug game early ( heroine addict) and became a hit man with 20-30 heads under my belt for a big drug dealer. I gave it all up for christianity but after someone at my church spoke down to my bisexual sister about her sexuality I gave up religion and went back to school for business.
When my mother passed away I started to chat with Nicole online. What my father lacked in warmth and comfort, she was able to fill in. After a few months we shifted to aim and then telephone conversations. Now after 5-7 years of communication, a few visits from my sister Shayla in place of me, and no physical meetings from myself Nicole is fed up and wishes to meet me or else communication will cease as she has confessed her love for me and "must" see me.
Unfortunately I am a woman and Ryan is merely a character I have created for various reasons. Nicole helped me through my struggles in life as my family has encountered detrimental turmoil. I am faced with quite a dilemma as my online friend is tired of waiting to finally meet me and threatening to end communications so I must find a Ryan in real life. Someone who can fit the role of reformed bad boy, educated, and handsome. I will post an ad on craigslist and find this man.
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As I was scanning through the craigslist ads as I do every hour or so throughout my day I came across a post seeking a handsome young male actor. I clicked the link and read a post with very general details which instructed those who fit the criteria listed on the page to inquire via email for further information. Instinctively I emailed immediately and gave a brief introductory statement of myself and included my model mayhem (model portfolio website) web address for the poster of the ad to see what I looked like.
Shortly after I had sent the message my phone vibrated and I was notified of a new message. Whenever my phone vibrates it could be 5 things; low battery, a phone call, an alarm, a new text, or a new email. The cause of this buzzing was the aftermath of my catching "Ryans" creators attention with my email. After numerous detailed emails back and forth I was briefed on the assignment, whom I would be acting as, and what I would be required to do. Needless to say I accepted the offer and we went into stage two of planning a date and time.
Two weeks later on Friday September, 17th I woke up and made a very tasty broccoli mozzarella and parmesean cheese omelet and washed it down with a few strawberries. I went to the gym where I ellipticalled my way to a heart rate of 175 for ten minutes and then proceeded to work out for 2 more hours. Afterwards I ordered a spinach salad with avacados, broccoli, black beans, croutons, corn, tomatoes, carrots, steamed spinach, cauliflower, cucumbers, and a balsamic vinaigrette then headed for the subway. In the 6 or so stops it took to get from Wall street to Grand central I had consumed my monster salad (was a good way to keep my thoughts from roaming into potential negative outcome scenarios for the immediate future). I departed the subway and made my way for the train ticket acquisition area. My ticket was purchased and I was on my way North to meet the mastermind behind "Ryan".
I made it to White Plains, NY earlier than anticipated and decided to call my father. I always inform him of my wild endeavors so I figured why not continue the tradition and fill him in on this one. His uneasy tone was easily translated into concern and disapproval. He simply asked me to put myself in the shoes of the woman whom Ryan is in love with. "You're fucking with her and the woman who created this character is an asshole". He continued to say that what I was doing is fraud and it just doesn't have a good vibe. I told him that I loved him and sincerely appreciated his concern but that I was to carry through with my unprecedented task at hand.
We hung up and I sat on the bench waiting for my new boss to arrive, contemplating. I had to stay optimistic and confident or else my performance would be with distraction and perhaps my cover would be blown. I tried to think of how this chick who created the male figure could use me to acquire some financial benefit from the woman online and as I was unsuccessfully brainstorming I received another discouraging text from my father.
With a message similar to what he had said on the phone, my father made his final plea for me to abort mission. I replied back explaining that both these women found comfort from the other and that I was merely a catalyst to their depressing (to a third party) relief from the real world.I continued by saying, "its like people who believe in and get comfort from god. A priest provides them with the story and makes everything flow. I'm just like a fucked up (actor) priest." His response was short, "I love you".
Ryans sisters name is Shayla so we will call my boss Shayla. She pulls up in a late model 5 series (bmw) and parks the car in an adjacent garage to the station. When she emerged from the concrete structure her dirty blond hair and short curvy figure matched with a cautious yet glowing face allowed my worries of this all being a staged production to have me arrested or murdered from persons in my past had disappeared. We awkwardly said hello and spent a good 5 minutes trying to find her car that she had just parked a second ago: clear sign she was nervous or a true blond.
As we searched the interrogative dialogue began and I asked her straight off the bat what her benefit and goal for the day was. I could tell she was an intelligent girl because she kept things vague until I would press harder and even then, I'm sure I truly only know half of the actual story's details. We found the car, a navy blue 1995 5 series with new emblems and a worn leather interior; certainly a car to be comfortable in. What was most obvious that this creative girl was who she said she was was the Kentucky license plate. We got in the car and started our journey to Connecticut.
After all the necessary questions were asked from my end and Shayla filled me in on everything that I needed to know we began to chat as if we had been friends for a while. We spoke about current events from our lives, listened to music, and laughed. It was oddly comfortable. I'm not sure whether I was genuinely enjoying her company or subconsciously trying to distract myself from the blatant reality that I was soon going to be acting as if I were in love with a random unattractive woman I knew nothing about as well as play the role of Shaylas brother. Either way, I enjoyed the ride.
We exited the highway and Shayla told me that we were going to get Nicole flowers. She said if we can keep her awe struck that you're actually here, her knight in shining armor, then she will not inquire on any of the details discussed between each other over the many years of chatting I would have been responsible for knowing. Thus the flowers, my gentlemanly ways, and my handsome features. Clearly this girl had contemplated this over and over to assure no room for failure highlighting her love for this woman named Nicole.
Shayla was not the best driver despite her telling me of her love for speed. After she nearly killed us three times with potential accidents, she figured shed see how I drove. It made sense since this was Ryans car and Nicole may find it odd that his sister was driving him around. But let's face it, this whole fucking thing is pretty odd so I'm sure it wouldn't have phased Nicole.
I get in the car, adjust my mirrors, and take a deep breath. I was about to drive to meet a person who was madly in love with me, give her flowers, and pretend that I; knew her, loved her, and was actually attracted to the short ugly and fat person that she was. This is certainly not the craziest thing I had ever done but it ranked among the top ten. I pulled out of the flower shops parking lot and a minute later I was face to face with Nicole.
In Shaylas informative lecture as to whom Ryan was on our ride to this point, I asked her of any pet names I should call her. "Princess" was what I was to call Nicole so when I first saw her I gave her the flowers and said "hello princess its so good to finally see you". We were to go to a movie at 5:45 and it was just about 5 when the rendezvous occurred so I killed some time driving around. We drove past a few stores and decided to go look at shoes and puppies. The shoes sucked and there were no puppies so we drove a bit more and then went to the movies. Shayla wanted to see "Devil" and it was so bad that we ended up walking out and going to dinner early.
Bertuccis. That was where Nicole wanted to go, her special place. Earlier on the ride out Shayla asked me what I meant when I had texted her that obviously Nicole does not need much to be impressed. I was referring to the dining establishment she had picked up. I explained my theory to Shayla and she told me that she couldn't disagree with where I was coming from. As we were entering this mediocre Italian restaurant Shayla told me to tell Nicole my theory on quality of Chain restaurants.
I gave her an example to help her grasp the concept I was attempting to unleash on these ladies. If you buy a pair of pants which were mass produced in China they would in no way resemble the same quality as a pair of hand made designer pants where time and precision was allotted freely to ensure the highest quality. I'm not saying you can't get a tasty meal at a chain restaurant but I am saying that chances are at least where I live, that if you go out to a non chain place to eat you're going to get some stellar dishes. Nicole awkwardly agreed as we entered the over rated bertuccis.
The hostess asked me how many and what name. I was getting comfortable with my character and ALMOST said that my name was Randall. "Ryan for 3 please". We were seated almost immediately and I sought refuge in the restroom for a few to catch up on my missed calls and unread messages. I returned to the table and Nicole went to the toilet. Shayla complimented and thanked me for my performance and asked if I had enough cash for dinner (which she supplied beforehand). I did not so we went out to the car to get some more cash.
We returned and the fat girl had her place set on the table with a vacant spot to her side. I took the hint that that was my sign to sit next to her so I slid in and tried not to look at her. The role I was playing was that of one who was picky with what he selected which to me was a bit of an oxymoron seeing how the aesthetic of Nicole was so horrid. I pretended to be overwhelmed with the menu and asked my Princess what she thought I should select. She said that I was so picky she had no idea. I wanted to get the steak and chicken combo as this wasn't my dime covering dinner but I stayed in character and opted for the lasagna.
Shayla got ravioli and Nicole a salad then a depressing conversation took place. I asked why Nicole had only eaten a small portion of her salad and she explained to me how she hadn't eaten in 3 days and how anything she ate was going to upset her stomach. When Shayla asked her why she would go and do a silly thing like not eat Nicoles response though simple, almost made me feel bad for doing what I was doing. She said she was trying to fit into the shirt that she was wearing. She knows she's fat and really tried to look good for the unreal character she's in love with. I almost felt bad. Fortunately she ordered some sangria and the thought of getting a little buzz erased any contemplations of how wrong this whole scenario was.
This created an immediate worry though. Ordering alcohol generally coincides with showing identification. I thought that if I took out my ID Nicole would ask to see my photo. As she ordered the caraff of alcohol I announced that I needed to go out to the car and as I was getting up the waitress asked if we wanted anything else to drink. I sat back down and thanked the waitress for her offer but declined then told Nicole that I didn't need to go outside anymore. Puzzled she gave me a questioning look and I immediately told her that I was going to put on some more make up but that I decided not to. The topic was dropped right there.
With Nicole being the only one content with her meal I hailed the waitress over. She asked how everything was and I pointed to Shaylas dish and told the waitress to "throw that away, wrap up my lasagna, and do whatever she (Nicole) wants with her dish). The waitress was shocked and asked if Shayla did not like her dish, in a careless tone my sister said that it was disgusting and I jumped in and said the only reason I want my lasagna to go is so I can feed my dogs as they will eat any shit I give them. This was all part of a sick game. Emphasizing that Nicole not only picked a shitty restaurant but that her two "dates" who drove 13 hours to see her were disgusted with their meals. Brutal!
We drove back to Nicoles car and I apologized for the let down of the movie and dinner. Nicole said it was fine and that it was amazing and special that I came to see her. I told her that I'd do everything I could to come back to see her asap and that it made me so happy to see her after all these years of waiting and that she was certainly worth the wait. I think at that moment I threw up in my mouth but that's besides the point. It was LOVE.
Shayla and I drove back to the train station and she kept telling me how happy she was and that I did great. Also, she offered that if I were interested in this situation again that she'd be happy to pay for my services. I'll have to think long and hard about the possibility of a next time. This Nicole girl is nothing I'd like to make regular in my life though living in NY is expensive and that shit just paid my rent!
When my mother passed away I started to chat with Nicole online. What my father lacked in warmth and comfort, she was able to fill in. After a few months we shifted to aim and then telephone conversations. Now after 5-7 years of communication, a few visits from my sister Shayla in place of me, and no physical meetings from myself Nicole is fed up and wishes to meet me or else communication will cease as she has confessed her love for me and "must" see me.
Unfortunately I am a woman and Ryan is merely a character I have created for various reasons. Nicole helped me through my struggles in life as my family has encountered detrimental turmoil. I am faced with quite a dilemma as my online friend is tired of waiting to finally meet me and threatening to end communications so I must find a Ryan in real life. Someone who can fit the role of reformed bad boy, educated, and handsome. I will post an ad on craigslist and find this man.
---------------------------------------------------------
As I was scanning through the craigslist ads as I do every hour or so throughout my day I came across a post seeking a handsome young male actor. I clicked the link and read a post with very general details which instructed those who fit the criteria listed on the page to inquire via email for further information. Instinctively I emailed immediately and gave a brief introductory statement of myself and included my model mayhem (model portfolio website) web address for the poster of the ad to see what I looked like.
Shortly after I had sent the message my phone vibrated and I was notified of a new message. Whenever my phone vibrates it could be 5 things; low battery, a phone call, an alarm, a new text, or a new email. The cause of this buzzing was the aftermath of my catching "Ryans" creators attention with my email. After numerous detailed emails back and forth I was briefed on the assignment, whom I would be acting as, and what I would be required to do. Needless to say I accepted the offer and we went into stage two of planning a date and time.
Two weeks later on Friday September, 17th I woke up and made a very tasty broccoli mozzarella and parmesean cheese omelet and washed it down with a few strawberries. I went to the gym where I ellipticalled my way to a heart rate of 175 for ten minutes and then proceeded to work out for 2 more hours. Afterwards I ordered a spinach salad with avacados, broccoli, black beans, croutons, corn, tomatoes, carrots, steamed spinach, cauliflower, cucumbers, and a balsamic vinaigrette then headed for the subway. In the 6 or so stops it took to get from Wall street to Grand central I had consumed my monster salad (was a good way to keep my thoughts from roaming into potential negative outcome scenarios for the immediate future). I departed the subway and made my way for the train ticket acquisition area. My ticket was purchased and I was on my way North to meet the mastermind behind "Ryan".
I made it to White Plains, NY earlier than anticipated and decided to call my father. I always inform him of my wild endeavors so I figured why not continue the tradition and fill him in on this one. His uneasy tone was easily translated into concern and disapproval. He simply asked me to put myself in the shoes of the woman whom Ryan is in love with. "You're fucking with her and the woman who created this character is an asshole". He continued to say that what I was doing is fraud and it just doesn't have a good vibe. I told him that I loved him and sincerely appreciated his concern but that I was to carry through with my unprecedented task at hand.
We hung up and I sat on the bench waiting for my new boss to arrive, contemplating. I had to stay optimistic and confident or else my performance would be with distraction and perhaps my cover would be blown. I tried to think of how this chick who created the male figure could use me to acquire some financial benefit from the woman online and as I was unsuccessfully brainstorming I received another discouraging text from my father.
With a message similar to what he had said on the phone, my father made his final plea for me to abort mission. I replied back explaining that both these women found comfort from the other and that I was merely a catalyst to their depressing (to a third party) relief from the real world.I continued by saying, "its like people who believe in and get comfort from god. A priest provides them with the story and makes everything flow. I'm just like a fucked up (actor) priest." His response was short, "I love you".
Ryans sisters name is Shayla so we will call my boss Shayla. She pulls up in a late model 5 series (bmw) and parks the car in an adjacent garage to the station. When she emerged from the concrete structure her dirty blond hair and short curvy figure matched with a cautious yet glowing face allowed my worries of this all being a staged production to have me arrested or murdered from persons in my past had disappeared. We awkwardly said hello and spent a good 5 minutes trying to find her car that she had just parked a second ago: clear sign she was nervous or a true blond.
As we searched the interrogative dialogue began and I asked her straight off the bat what her benefit and goal for the day was. I could tell she was an intelligent girl because she kept things vague until I would press harder and even then, I'm sure I truly only know half of the actual story's details. We found the car, a navy blue 1995 5 series with new emblems and a worn leather interior; certainly a car to be comfortable in. What was most obvious that this creative girl was who she said she was was the Kentucky license plate. We got in the car and started our journey to Connecticut.
After all the necessary questions were asked from my end and Shayla filled me in on everything that I needed to know we began to chat as if we had been friends for a while. We spoke about current events from our lives, listened to music, and laughed. It was oddly comfortable. I'm not sure whether I was genuinely enjoying her company or subconsciously trying to distract myself from the blatant reality that I was soon going to be acting as if I were in love with a random unattractive woman I knew nothing about as well as play the role of Shaylas brother. Either way, I enjoyed the ride.
We exited the highway and Shayla told me that we were going to get Nicole flowers. She said if we can keep her awe struck that you're actually here, her knight in shining armor, then she will not inquire on any of the details discussed between each other over the many years of chatting I would have been responsible for knowing. Thus the flowers, my gentlemanly ways, and my handsome features. Clearly this girl had contemplated this over and over to assure no room for failure highlighting her love for this woman named Nicole.
Shayla was not the best driver despite her telling me of her love for speed. After she nearly killed us three times with potential accidents, she figured shed see how I drove. It made sense since this was Ryans car and Nicole may find it odd that his sister was driving him around. But let's face it, this whole fucking thing is pretty odd so I'm sure it wouldn't have phased Nicole.
I get in the car, adjust my mirrors, and take a deep breath. I was about to drive to meet a person who was madly in love with me, give her flowers, and pretend that I; knew her, loved her, and was actually attracted to the short ugly and fat person that she was. This is certainly not the craziest thing I had ever done but it ranked among the top ten. I pulled out of the flower shops parking lot and a minute later I was face to face with Nicole.
In Shaylas informative lecture as to whom Ryan was on our ride to this point, I asked her of any pet names I should call her. "Princess" was what I was to call Nicole so when I first saw her I gave her the flowers and said "hello princess its so good to finally see you". We were to go to a movie at 5:45 and it was just about 5 when the rendezvous occurred so I killed some time driving around. We drove past a few stores and decided to go look at shoes and puppies. The shoes sucked and there were no puppies so we drove a bit more and then went to the movies. Shayla wanted to see "Devil" and it was so bad that we ended up walking out and going to dinner early.
Bertuccis. That was where Nicole wanted to go, her special place. Earlier on the ride out Shayla asked me what I meant when I had texted her that obviously Nicole does not need much to be impressed. I was referring to the dining establishment she had picked up. I explained my theory to Shayla and she told me that she couldn't disagree with where I was coming from. As we were entering this mediocre Italian restaurant Shayla told me to tell Nicole my theory on quality of Chain restaurants.
I gave her an example to help her grasp the concept I was attempting to unleash on these ladies. If you buy a pair of pants which were mass produced in China they would in no way resemble the same quality as a pair of hand made designer pants where time and precision was allotted freely to ensure the highest quality. I'm not saying you can't get a tasty meal at a chain restaurant but I am saying that chances are at least where I live, that if you go out to a non chain place to eat you're going to get some stellar dishes. Nicole awkwardly agreed as we entered the over rated bertuccis.
The hostess asked me how many and what name. I was getting comfortable with my character and ALMOST said that my name was Randall. "Ryan for 3 please". We were seated almost immediately and I sought refuge in the restroom for a few to catch up on my missed calls and unread messages. I returned to the table and Nicole went to the toilet. Shayla complimented and thanked me for my performance and asked if I had enough cash for dinner (which she supplied beforehand). I did not so we went out to the car to get some more cash.
We returned and the fat girl had her place set on the table with a vacant spot to her side. I took the hint that that was my sign to sit next to her so I slid in and tried not to look at her. The role I was playing was that of one who was picky with what he selected which to me was a bit of an oxymoron seeing how the aesthetic of Nicole was so horrid. I pretended to be overwhelmed with the menu and asked my Princess what she thought I should select. She said that I was so picky she had no idea. I wanted to get the steak and chicken combo as this wasn't my dime covering dinner but I stayed in character and opted for the lasagna.
Shayla got ravioli and Nicole a salad then a depressing conversation took place. I asked why Nicole had only eaten a small portion of her salad and she explained to me how she hadn't eaten in 3 days and how anything she ate was going to upset her stomach. When Shayla asked her why she would go and do a silly thing like not eat Nicoles response though simple, almost made me feel bad for doing what I was doing. She said she was trying to fit into the shirt that she was wearing. She knows she's fat and really tried to look good for the unreal character she's in love with. I almost felt bad. Fortunately she ordered some sangria and the thought of getting a little buzz erased any contemplations of how wrong this whole scenario was.
This created an immediate worry though. Ordering alcohol generally coincides with showing identification. I thought that if I took out my ID Nicole would ask to see my photo. As she ordered the caraff of alcohol I announced that I needed to go out to the car and as I was getting up the waitress asked if we wanted anything else to drink. I sat back down and thanked the waitress for her offer but declined then told Nicole that I didn't need to go outside anymore. Puzzled she gave me a questioning look and I immediately told her that I was going to put on some more make up but that I decided not to. The topic was dropped right there.
With Nicole being the only one content with her meal I hailed the waitress over. She asked how everything was and I pointed to Shaylas dish and told the waitress to "throw that away, wrap up my lasagna, and do whatever she (Nicole) wants with her dish). The waitress was shocked and asked if Shayla did not like her dish, in a careless tone my sister said that it was disgusting and I jumped in and said the only reason I want my lasagna to go is so I can feed my dogs as they will eat any shit I give them. This was all part of a sick game. Emphasizing that Nicole not only picked a shitty restaurant but that her two "dates" who drove 13 hours to see her were disgusted with their meals. Brutal!
We drove back to Nicoles car and I apologized for the let down of the movie and dinner. Nicole said it was fine and that it was amazing and special that I came to see her. I told her that I'd do everything I could to come back to see her asap and that it made me so happy to see her after all these years of waiting and that she was certainly worth the wait. I think at that moment I threw up in my mouth but that's besides the point. It was LOVE.
Shayla and I drove back to the train station and she kept telling me how happy she was and that I did great. Also, she offered that if I were interested in this situation again that she'd be happy to pay for my services. I'll have to think long and hard about the possibility of a next time. This Nicole girl is nothing I'd like to make regular in my life though living in NY is expensive and that shit just paid my rent!
Thursday, September 16, 2010
Gotta Love Catering
So when modeling is slow catering takes over, I think any struggling model or model with slow work can relate. Tonight I worked an event at Bloomingdales where we served a few dishes, tastings rather with samples of various wines. There was a crew of 5 with one captain and each of the non captains were assigned 2 tables.
The evening was slowly paced and very manageable. At the conclusion of the sampling each guest was presented with a gift bag. The head chef who was answering questions with the owner of the wine company who provided the wine for sampling had provided $50 gift cards to his restaurant. Each guest received their bag and there was a plethora of surplus so we were given the OK to take a bag for ourselves.
Once we had cleaned up the entire area and put everything in its designated place and departed the desolate store. Three of us posted up outside and an additional two came out. A few lit their cigarettes and I waited patiently as the idea of using our gift cards to purchase drinks was presented. It was brilliant.
A classy, dimly lit, italian establishment cautiously allowed us entrance. We walked in and my two fellow employees allowed me to break the ice and see if the bartender would allow the gift card to permit us a few beverages. We were granted the privilege and proceeded to order the most expensive cocktails we could look up on the menu. Our fellow on the right had to depart due to an obligation to report to the lower east side for a DJ gig and had his cocktail and left us with a $10 bill for our tip. Myself and the other "partner" had two cocktails and conversed for about an hour.
Apparently I was working with a private military weapons trainer who learned his knife fighting skills in taiwan and turned that into a career training military personnel here in the states. He was also from the south where his ex navy seal father showed him a thing or two on weapons. We chatted mainly on fitness and I picked up some great new perspective to achieving my fitness goal. Balance Protein, Carbs, and good fats. Also when attempting to lose fat deduct your age from 220 and that is where you will burn the most fat. He said its not easy but even doing it for 10-15 seconds will get your body zapped in the right direction. Lastly, I ask him how to get the highly desired V. He said to hang from a pull up bar, lift your legs parallel to the ground, and do your pull ups.
I start my new training tomorrow before I attempt my most unique acting feat yet, more to come.
The evening was slowly paced and very manageable. At the conclusion of the sampling each guest was presented with a gift bag. The head chef who was answering questions with the owner of the wine company who provided the wine for sampling had provided $50 gift cards to his restaurant. Each guest received their bag and there was a plethora of surplus so we were given the OK to take a bag for ourselves.
Once we had cleaned up the entire area and put everything in its designated place and departed the desolate store. Three of us posted up outside and an additional two came out. A few lit their cigarettes and I waited patiently as the idea of using our gift cards to purchase drinks was presented. It was brilliant.
A classy, dimly lit, italian establishment cautiously allowed us entrance. We walked in and my two fellow employees allowed me to break the ice and see if the bartender would allow the gift card to permit us a few beverages. We were granted the privilege and proceeded to order the most expensive cocktails we could look up on the menu. Our fellow on the right had to depart due to an obligation to report to the lower east side for a DJ gig and had his cocktail and left us with a $10 bill for our tip. Myself and the other "partner" had two cocktails and conversed for about an hour.
Apparently I was working with a private military weapons trainer who learned his knife fighting skills in taiwan and turned that into a career training military personnel here in the states. He was also from the south where his ex navy seal father showed him a thing or two on weapons. We chatted mainly on fitness and I picked up some great new perspective to achieving my fitness goal. Balance Protein, Carbs, and good fats. Also when attempting to lose fat deduct your age from 220 and that is where you will burn the most fat. He said its not easy but even doing it for 10-15 seconds will get your body zapped in the right direction. Lastly, I ask him how to get the highly desired V. He said to hang from a pull up bar, lift your legs parallel to the ground, and do your pull ups.
I start my new training tomorrow before I attempt my most unique acting feat yet, more to come.
Tuesday, September 14, 2010
Brutal
I haven't seen the inside of the lincoln center mercedes benz fashion week tents yet. I consider this season an absolute failure. The number of castings I went to was between 15 and 25. My days before this week were busy and anxiety stricken. Now I know I was not selected so a new wave of anxious worries drifts into place.
I walked in one show and had a bad day so I missed my second booked show. The third show I was confirmed for, I called the day before the show to confirm timing and they said I was too euro/skinny/high fashion AKA they fucked up at the casting and when the designer saw me at his fitting he said no. These weeks have passed and I feel that I've given my heart to a goal which in the present has gotten me no where. Feelings of failure, disappointment, and fatigue have set in.
I have realized the significance of energies and patterns. A few days ago I was hustled into a -$20 bank balance. I was walking past two guys early in the morning. They went to both of my sides rather than pairing up while passing me. As they passed, the man to my right hit my shoulder and a conflict was the outcome to this impact.
As we made contact he dropped the bag that was in his hand. I looked back merely because I heard a loud noise: my head phones were on at full volume so you can tell I was unable to hear noises beyond the headphones. The man runs up to me and says "Yo you broke my bottle of whiskey". I told him that I was sorry but he bumped into me and dropped his shit.
I could smell the booze on his breath and he was swaying back and forth so I knew he was already drunk and there was no chance to reason with him. I took out my wallet and showed him that I only had two dollars and said that I was broke. He went on some rant how he was not playing games and that if I didn't pay him wed settle this here. He put his hands up and got in my face like someone getting ready to fight and his partner was slowly walking towards me.
First thing I thought was that I could definitely smash him in the face and out run him. But then I thought responsibly and said to myself no. This is a block from where I live and I cannot start a war. I bit the bullet and with his recommendation/command we went to the atm and I withdrew $20. It was a really shitty situation.
With my lack of shows and this bad energy around me I'm worried that these are signs. Perhaps it is a test to see if I will quit. The truth is always out of sight it seems. To make things worse I now have a cold and haven't been able to sleep which prevents me from looking presentable. What to do? What to do?!
Carry on...tomorrow is another day.
I walked in one show and had a bad day so I missed my second booked show. The third show I was confirmed for, I called the day before the show to confirm timing and they said I was too euro/skinny/high fashion AKA they fucked up at the casting and when the designer saw me at his fitting he said no. These weeks have passed and I feel that I've given my heart to a goal which in the present has gotten me no where. Feelings of failure, disappointment, and fatigue have set in.
I have realized the significance of energies and patterns. A few days ago I was hustled into a -$20 bank balance. I was walking past two guys early in the morning. They went to both of my sides rather than pairing up while passing me. As they passed, the man to my right hit my shoulder and a conflict was the outcome to this impact.
As we made contact he dropped the bag that was in his hand. I looked back merely because I heard a loud noise: my head phones were on at full volume so you can tell I was unable to hear noises beyond the headphones. The man runs up to me and says "Yo you broke my bottle of whiskey". I told him that I was sorry but he bumped into me and dropped his shit.
I could smell the booze on his breath and he was swaying back and forth so I knew he was already drunk and there was no chance to reason with him. I took out my wallet and showed him that I only had two dollars and said that I was broke. He went on some rant how he was not playing games and that if I didn't pay him wed settle this here. He put his hands up and got in my face like someone getting ready to fight and his partner was slowly walking towards me.
First thing I thought was that I could definitely smash him in the face and out run him. But then I thought responsibly and said to myself no. This is a block from where I live and I cannot start a war. I bit the bullet and with his recommendation/command we went to the atm and I withdrew $20. It was a really shitty situation.
With my lack of shows and this bad energy around me I'm worried that these are signs. Perhaps it is a test to see if I will quit. The truth is always out of sight it seems. To make things worse I now have a cold and haven't been able to sleep which prevents me from looking presentable. What to do? What to do?!
Carry on...tomorrow is another day.
Tuesday, September 7, 2010
September 6th
The Monday before fashion week and I've only got one casting, compliments of the agency. Something is really fucked up with that. I woke up late and had a leisurely morning. The casting was from 10 am to 4 pm where I could arrive anytime in between and I got there at about 2pm. After waiting 45 minutes and battling the urge to urinate all over my fellow models due to the large water and shot of vodka I had consumed on the train ride to the casting I was finally seen.
As I've said before, when the casting directors don't like what they see the models get an automatic "Thank you". Perhaps I've been fortunate enough to have been spared the embarrassment of being laughed at or cruelly turned down but today I saw Michael Bastian. When I entered the doorway I could see some models walk with clothes and some in underwear...I quickly learned that if you were walking in underwear then the designer and casting team approved your clothed walk and wanted to see more.
I entered the studio and warmly shook all the hands that I could as I introduced myself. They reviewed my book and asked me to walk. I did my walk and when I returned the designer had a look on his face with raised eye brows which I could not interpret. He asked me to pull my hair back and said to his colleagues something in regards to my look having army or military qualities. I was then asked to strip down to my underwear and walk. I did as I was told and they continued the selection process where they photographed me a few times and allowed me to go.
I left feeling a bit content and somewhat cocky. Shit, I probably won't get the show but I felt as if through the designers reaction I already acquired the confidence one would get after walking such a notorious show. Perhaps this is the answer...Do work and see the results and you will be happy. Perhaps happiness is easy to come upon for others and challenging as fuck for myself. It is what it is and so I move on.
The pretty girl that I call my own texted me the information of a casting that she had gone to earlier where both male and female models were present. I headed to the location after my first casting of the day. My routine is to go to any casting with my BOSS book as well as with my neutral black book to house my modeling photos. Though boss had not sent me to this casting, I decided to use the book in hopes that the name could be used to my advantage.
I used a photo that was not necessary for my book and wrote all the relevant information that a casting director would need on the back. When I arrived I signed in and awaited my name to be called. I was called and the casting crew looked at my book and kept staring at me. They took my makeshift comp card and said thank you. THE DEADLY "THANK YOU" was burdened upon my ears though they confirmed that it was ok for them to take my comp card. A truly confusing and hard to interpret response to viewing me as their model. So I thanked them kindly and departed from the tension filled room.
About a week or two ago I had shot with the bamboo t shirt designer and had not signed a model release. He had emailed me requesting that I join him at a bbq to sign the model release and consume a burger, hot dog, or alcoholic beverage. Since I was not obligated to any significant events in my schedule I opted to take him up on the offer and traveled north to West 105th Street.
We met in the streets and he was with one of his gay friends. We walked to the townhouse where the barbecue was being hosted at and entered the residence. In the back there was a small area outside where the lesbian host had tables and chairs along with a barbecue. The snacks consisted of hummus and crackers, sun chips, and garlic bagel chips with some sort of garlic and spinach dip-WOW.
I thought that shit was good enough and then we were treated with burgers, hot dogs, AND grilled veggies. This was a true delight; lounging in the upper west side, BBQing, and drinking with complete strangers. I love modeling in the sense that I am always subjected to unpredictable extravagant ventures such as this. The funny thing is that I was summoned to this event merely to sign a model release and on exchange I was wined and dined. Lovely.
As I've said before, when the casting directors don't like what they see the models get an automatic "Thank you". Perhaps I've been fortunate enough to have been spared the embarrassment of being laughed at or cruelly turned down but today I saw Michael Bastian. When I entered the doorway I could see some models walk with clothes and some in underwear...I quickly learned that if you were walking in underwear then the designer and casting team approved your clothed walk and wanted to see more.
I entered the studio and warmly shook all the hands that I could as I introduced myself. They reviewed my book and asked me to walk. I did my walk and when I returned the designer had a look on his face with raised eye brows which I could not interpret. He asked me to pull my hair back and said to his colleagues something in regards to my look having army or military qualities. I was then asked to strip down to my underwear and walk. I did as I was told and they continued the selection process where they photographed me a few times and allowed me to go.
I left feeling a bit content and somewhat cocky. Shit, I probably won't get the show but I felt as if through the designers reaction I already acquired the confidence one would get after walking such a notorious show. Perhaps this is the answer...Do work and see the results and you will be happy. Perhaps happiness is easy to come upon for others and challenging as fuck for myself. It is what it is and so I move on.
The pretty girl that I call my own texted me the information of a casting that she had gone to earlier where both male and female models were present. I headed to the location after my first casting of the day. My routine is to go to any casting with my BOSS book as well as with my neutral black book to house my modeling photos. Though boss had not sent me to this casting, I decided to use the book in hopes that the name could be used to my advantage.
I used a photo that was not necessary for my book and wrote all the relevant information that a casting director would need on the back. When I arrived I signed in and awaited my name to be called. I was called and the casting crew looked at my book and kept staring at me. They took my makeshift comp card and said thank you. THE DEADLY "THANK YOU" was burdened upon my ears though they confirmed that it was ok for them to take my comp card. A truly confusing and hard to interpret response to viewing me as their model. So I thanked them kindly and departed from the tension filled room.
About a week or two ago I had shot with the bamboo t shirt designer and had not signed a model release. He had emailed me requesting that I join him at a bbq to sign the model release and consume a burger, hot dog, or alcoholic beverage. Since I was not obligated to any significant events in my schedule I opted to take him up on the offer and traveled north to West 105th Street.
We met in the streets and he was with one of his gay friends. We walked to the townhouse where the barbecue was being hosted at and entered the residence. In the back there was a small area outside where the lesbian host had tables and chairs along with a barbecue. The snacks consisted of hummus and crackers, sun chips, and garlic bagel chips with some sort of garlic and spinach dip-WOW.
I thought that shit was good enough and then we were treated with burgers, hot dogs, AND grilled veggies. This was a true delight; lounging in the upper west side, BBQing, and drinking with complete strangers. I love modeling in the sense that I am always subjected to unpredictable extravagant ventures such as this. The funny thing is that I was summoned to this event merely to sign a model release and on exchange I was wined and dined. Lovely.
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