Ryan II

Many years ago I randomly met Shayla and introduced her to my operations in drug running. We drove all over the country for hours on end and made lots of money together. She was like a little sister to me and eventually I wanted a safer life for her. That prompted a change, I faked my death to end my reign, disassociate myself to the groups I contracted with, and protect those whom I love.  At the end of the day I’m just a bad ass romantic back from the dead to reconnect with my loved ones.

There she is. 3 years after “Ryan” and my sister hasn’t aged a day. But this time she’s not my biological sister, rather a girl whom I took under my wing about 10 years ago to show the mechanics of organized crime. Excitement, nervousness, and courage all percolated through her body language as I approached her. Short, well dressed, and lively, she complimented me briefly then got right into the overview of my new persona. Her girlfriend anxiously waited upstairs as we reviewed the plan for me to confirm a story my “sister” told her for whatever reason.

Shayla is a brilliant woman and puts superior energy towards her desired acquisitions. Strategy, ambition, youth, and growing knowledge amongst other attributes are what almost guarantee her path towards her version of happiness. I strive not to judge (as I’m sure if you’ve read from “that life” there’s been some temptation) and embrace that no one is perfect but working with Shayla again required moral suppression and some distaste with myself for contributing to a situation that could be deemed as wrong.

Together again, moral separatists with different agendas fueling faux comfort in each other’s company as we await the girlfriends entrance to scene 1 set 1. “There she is”, Shayla’s tone seemed genuinely relieved as we stood and the girlfriend advanced to our table. Standing at my shoulders “the girlfriend” was a stick, had implants, and a jersey shore doll face with nervous pretty eyes. I was told that they met at the strip club while GF was on stage. Shaking, she smiles and gives me a big hug exclaiming that she’s heard so much about me and that Shayla speaks of me almost every day.

We went to Dos Caminos’s bar on 3^rd Ave and Shayla lead the conversations as I followed with improvisation. She started off repeating how she was so happy to see me and then said, “So I know I shouldn't be asking but are you in some sort of witness protection?” I paused, looked over the back of my shoulder and replied, “You know I shouldn't tell you too much, it’s not safe for you two to know much about me… I'm not with any government agencies in any country, just a new group.” I followed up saying how nice it was to hear their southern accents and that the only accents I hear now are of broken island English. Shayla said that she shouldn’t ask any more questions of the nature so that they wont learn too much, hinting to the GF not to inquire.

We reminisced of our long drives around the country transporting “materials” and Shayla told me how her girlfriend knows just some of our stories. I asked the GF if she loved “my girl” and she confirmed. Shayla then smiled and told me about how her GF’s ex was an asshole. I asked her if he was violent and the GF went quiet. I told her that I still know people down in their area and that if she really wanted me to then I could have some people go and have a conversation with him about it. Shayla loved that then asked, “Do you ever worry about the people looking for you, can you ever come back?" Again I pause and look over my shoulder, “Well they'll be in a box before I come back."

I begin the final scene with a heart-wrenching monologue of how I was so sorry that I had to leave the way I did. I didn’t want my little sister to continue in the industry and knew that she wouldn’t listen to any requests to cease and desist. “I'm sorry I've been absent. You know with who we were working with that I couldn’t have just given my 2 weeks.” They both felt the “love” I have for Shayla and I told them that I’ve been working on a plan to make things safe again. Sometime soon I will have a jet meet them in Miami to fly them to a location where we can rendezvous in more relaxed circumstances, where I have people to assure the lack of danger. GF was ecstatic and asked me to attend their wedding because she knew how much it would mean to Shayla. I told her that for me to go back down in their neck of the woods I would need to dress like a woman and we all laughed. She said “even if it’s just you and us, that would be so special” I told her to be good to “my girl” because I’ll always be watching. They each got a hug and kiss from me followed by the inevitable “adios (I just made the easiest money of my life)” smile.

[Text received] “Amazing.”

Executive Asshole Sous Chef

In my new kitchen job there is a sous chef who runs the line for each shift. "The line" is just the line of cooks who are pumping out what the diners have ordered so the sous chef is yelling out orders and assuring that everything goes out in a timely manner. We are open for breakfast, lunch, and dinner so there are many sous chefs and this creates a hierarchy in the kitchen which has allows most of them to act like douche bags; aggressive, vulgar, demeaning, and all around unpleasant with no penalty. Maybe this is how a "Corporate" NYC kitchen works, maybe I'm in over my head and had no idea what I got myself into by being enlisted to cook in the kitchen for a members only club. Regardless, I feel that I've got a solid opportunity to focus on what I want with my future now that I'm not worried about finding work. One door closes and another one opens, a saying that can relate both to positive and negative scenarios.

Sous chef A (Ass hole) was on me from day one. Screaming orders, swearing, and sliding the knife in and twisting with his words when I wasn't fast enough or doing something properly (sometimes even when done properly). I understand that he's under high pressure to make sure everyone's pulling their weight in the kitchen but he gave me no room for error while I was learning. One night a server asked him for focaccia and he yelled for me as I was exiting the kitchen. I didn't hear him so he threw a piece of bread at my head. As I turned to see what he was bitching about that time, the bread was about to hit me in the face so I turned and it hit the back of my head. I walked up to him shaking my head and he said "what, you don't know me! Everyone in this kitchen knows me, I'm crazy!" I just laughed and told him that anyone can talk but what mattered was the action. He said some shit about going into the freezer to act and I just brushed him off.

Each one of them have their unique asshole characteristics and I'm disheartened that they have no interest in being friendly beyond the rare occasion that they ask nicely for what they want. I've had so many jobs that I've probably forgotten some of the best random ones but I've always observed my superiors; their personal behavior, behavior towards colleagues, and whatever random wisdom I could attain from them. I believe it all breaks down to a simple message, treat others as you wish to be treated. The few times I've lead a team for whatever job, I remembered the bosses I'd worked with in the past who treated me in a decent and fair manner so that we could work in an honest teamwork mentality and have my staff want to do the job for me. 

I'm not sure why I'm accepting this new high pressure work but at the end of the day I do enjoy the challenge of the job itself. The restraint I must exercise to not lash back at my asshole sous chef also entertains me. I remember 5 years ago when I read "The Art of Happiness", the Dalai Lama makes note to resist the temptation to get angry from those who anger you and practice patience and discipline. Thank those who push you to the edge because they are the only ones who can put you in situations to truly test your ability to control yourself and remain calm despite the logical justice that would be putting your fist through their face. Sous chef A could quote me saying "You know, you really are a great test of my patience." and it utterly frustrates me that this man chooses to be an asshole to the members of the team he runs (for certain shifts). I loathe people who misuse their management positions to make them feel better about themselves...he wouldn't speak to me on the street the way he does in the kitchen so he's a pussy who needs to fuel his ego through his temporary position of kitchen rule. 

End of another chapter

The real estate work has ceased. It is my opinion that my boss just needed me to assist with a few of his new properties before he pursued other personal endeavors on his own. Real estate management seems like a promising career to pursue however without the deep knowledge of the ins and outs you really can only either assist someone with that wisdom or become a student.  I hope to be able to continue to work with him or others in real estate in the future. The images are a tease for you to fathom the random tasks I had to complete while briefly dabbling in the real estate game throughout Harlem.

OUT OF HIBERNATION

Alas, I've committed some time to that life. The winter was long and strenuous, we lost a few cattle from the flock and our fields are in need of reseeding but the farmhouse stands strong. With the last post being ages ago I don't know where to begin. "Is this thing on?"

Lets fast forward past my entry into an international pastry competition, modeling for Rick Owens, and the car wreck with my sister where I broke my neck. I now work as an assistant to a real estate manager in Harlem and fit my side jobs in when they pop up. The best way to describe my job is to imagine my boss as a macbook pro with loads of real estate information and "to do's". I'm his external hard drive.

I imagine some people in NY can't stop themselves from rolling their eyes when they hear "I'm an actor/model". When I hear people tell me that they're taking real estate classes, that's the feeling I get. Not another one. I guess I never gave it a chance and dismissed it like my other previous notions of wall street trading, back up dancing for gaga, and my U.S. Presidency.

It's nearing the time to either renew my lease or find a new place. With my new employer's success nourished by finding real estate, I'm hoping that an opportunity will arise for me to relocate smoothly. The buildings that we pimp out are stunning old school Harlem townhouses between 110th Street and 180th Street, East and West. The properties all boast extra large everything; Ceiling heights, marvelous windows, and original character. My work requires lots of data entry, transcribing my boss's audible thoughts,  and communicating with various clients+contacts throughout the day via email/cell. I'm learning a lot it's just worrisome because I found this job through Craigslist (THANK YOU AGAIN CRAIGSLIST GODS) where it was noted that the position would be temporary:"5-10 days".

One day at a time.

Peligro

Waking up bruised and sore without any recollection of its cause is nothing new. I woke up and felt like I'd been hit by a train: both ankles in pain, swollen elbow, cut up knee, and a sore and dirty hip bone. At first awakening when I was still drunk I had no idea what had happened the night prior but as sobriety caught up with my consciousness so did fuzzy segments of my memory. I remember an extended fall, some yelling, and me climbing up the lip of the train platform then waking up late for work. The moral of this excerpt is not to stay in control of your substance intake but rather to not take the trains home at night, you may fall into the tracks and get hurt. Be safe out there kids.

Beyond a lunch stipend

In an effort to test the waters and dip my fingers in multiple "pussys waiting to be fucked" as my good friend Tony Montana puts it, the work I do at my internship for the showroom is a bit of a gamble. I work 3-8 hour shifts a week in exchange for lunch on the days I work and while I've acquired a perspective of how showrooms work and grasped further the significance of the role they play in the fashion world, I question what tangible benefit I will receive upon completion of my term as an intern.

The biggest reason I enjoy working in fashion is that sometimes I am able to spend time with the independent designers who work passionately for their brands. Designers are portals to diverse creativity and I love when I'm able to pick their minds, question inspirations, and listen to their histories and future ambitions. Marc Stone is one of the designers I've most recently met and is one of the menswear lines we house at the showroom.

Hailing from Zurich, this artist has been operating his line for a few years now with a tight team assisting him along the way. Unique cuts and materials add to this designers ingenious collections which are suitable for those who want to blend in or stand out from the crowd. His upcoming Spring/Summer line was inspired by images of an almost alien landscape after volcanic eruptions corrupted the calm landscapes which caress the northern lying country which is Iceland. Between the fine Italian fabrics and unique inspirations for prints, the clothes Mark Stone puts out are surely to be on the fashion radars of menswear enthusiasts for years beyond now. I'm so thankful to have had the few days to chat it up with him and be exposed to a great new foreign perspective.

INTERNSHIP

In a pursuit for work that is more rewarding than the thankless bitch work that is catering I've opted to take a side step in the fashion world and have acquired an internship at a fashion showroom. Naturally an internship consists of excessive bitch work but I feel that unlike catering, at least I'm being a slave in an industry I enjoy and wish to continue to thrive in. Most of what I've been doing is hanging clothes, making inventory/shipping lists, and acting as per diem showroom model. The people I am working with are cool and I'm glad that I randomly joined their team.

Moving to Harlem

"Hello, my name is Randall and I am a Manhattan based..." Is what email recipients of my solicitation for work will read from now on. I have switched back from being a "Brooklynite" to being able to say that I live on one of the greatest islands in the world. When I first moved to NY I was living in the lower east side of Manhattan in a classy shit hole of a space that I absolutely adored, "The Chelsea East Hostel". Unfortunately the city did not approve of the arrangement the hostel had with the building and all of the residents and temporary boarders were cast out to the street. Since then I've been residing, causing mayhem, and exploring in many regions of the city. If I hadn't moved to NY I question where/who I would be now. I was many things in Springfield, Massachusetts; hand cuff repair man, avid gym goer, traveler, entrepreneur, gay bar doorman, cyclist, loner. Now in NY I may still be lost but despite what some say about locations being temporary geographical fixes, I feel that merely residing in New York City for near 3 years is a feat which trumps all that I've accomplished in Western Massachusetts. I had myself some stellar times and connected with truly unforgettable people while living in my ghetto palace in Massachusetts, I would never give that up but change is inevitable in life and I think being in Manhattan adds an energy that everyone should encounter at least once in their lives.

Gym: Pet Peeves

I work out almost every day so the gym could be considered my second home. Naturally I make many observations amidst my work outs and I've decided to discuss a few of my pet peeves. My work outs are not intended to be easy so I let my aggressive side come out for fuel through my work outs. These annoyances are blatantly with an aggressive perspective so don't think too much into this post (or do, I don't really give a shit [yes I'm at the gym as I type this]).

First on the list is over crowded times at the gym. Naturally during "rush hour" the gym is saturated with those 9-5ers and I strive not to work out with them but sometimes its the only time I can get my work out in so it's dealt with. Gyms generally tend to get very sloppy at this time; weights are misplaced, equipment becomes unavailable, and the locker room attendants are overwhelmed with the increase in towels and lack of cleanliness their required to tend to. This is something that cannot be changed as with rush hour traffic on the roads. If roads/gyms could simply be doubled this would assist in combating the immense rush of people encountered during pre/post work times but they more than likely will remain the same so I'll just say "it is what it is".

The second nuisance whilst improving my fitness is douche bags who think the gym and all its equipment is theirs to be available at any moments desire. This is most noticeable during "rush hour" times and really works as a benefit to my aggression fueled work outs because anytime I encounter these tools I wish to use the same force I'm using to push weights to smash in their faces but choose the responsible reaction and keep the force exclusive to my work out. Countless times while I'm in the middle of pushing through a set dudes have come up to me and started talking (as if I could hear them). I always work out with music through my headphones and can't hear any communication via gym goers so I have to stop my exercise, take my head phones off, and listen to the same question; "how many sets do you have left?". Go Fuck Yourself Asshole, just watch me if you're really that in need of the fucking machine don't disturb my work out and shit, since you're waiting- you wanna go grab me a protein bar or something(?).

Lastly, and this isn't a real big deal because everyone has their own reasoning for their actions that I'll never know but the guys in the locker room who are over paranoid that guys will see their naked bodies just bothers me ( yeah I'm the biggest homo out there, whatever). I was walking through the locker room and saw this dude with his pants around his knees and towel still around his waist. Obviously he didn't want anyone seeing his skin or deformed penis but I don't know, it just annoys me people are still at that level. When I was a fatty (as a kid) I remember at summer camp and during gym class the locker room caused such intense anxiety because I was self conscious of my fat ass body so I'm not going to be close minded about it I just acknowledge that in time you realize it doesn't matter and seeing grown men still at the point that I was at as a boy I guess deep down just makes me feel bad. As stated in the beginning of this rant though the gym is aggression filled so rather than showing empathy (deep down I do, I swear!) I just shake my head and when I'm out of sight I yell "nice cock pinocchio!". This is a double edged pet peeve though because on the other end of the spectrum I cannot stand the obese hairy older men who nonchalantly pace through the locker room fully nude. No worry or concern for others as if their fat rolls jiggling with each step taken (think, jurassic park) and their disgusting hairy asses freely bouncing doesn't make everyone in the room want to pour rubbing alcohol in their eyes and then sit in a hot tub full of pirañas enjoying them slowly eating life away just so we wont have to contemplate the foul site burned into the short term memory. What can you do?

I just feel that since I work out so much I'm entitled to a little bitch session....and maybe a cookie.

Take what you want.

When an 18 year old male model asks me to buy him a few beers for the ride to a catering event that we were both to work I couldn't help but smile proudly at his carelessness. The last beer was consumed as we were pulling into the parking lot of our event and the evening went on as any slow catering night ought to; a few glasses were smashed (guess who), managers were pissy and dramatic, and I got my share of lean meat from the leftover food once things slowed down. The more catering events I work for lately the more I'm encountering people new to the city whom are younger than me. Some still with the awe of "New York City" and some scolded by an unprecedented realness they were unaware of coming from their small midwest towns. Since I've observed these young implants to NY I have realized that my mentality has changed from the start of my stay in the city. I'm still as aggressive and hungry for productivity but the city is less of a mystery, I've adapted to the awe factor and am at a point in my life where again I seek a place where the productivity and awe factor coincide.

My booker (agent) and I are going to sit down soon to discuss the best path for me as a model. With my portfolio barely consisting of any tear sheets, I think he may push me towards working in a country (not the states) that will get me work in magazines for the specific reason of acquiring photos for my portfolio showing that I can work. Whether it be Europe or Asia (again) now with a current awareness of my desire for new stimulation I am prepared to relocate where ever my agency believes that the most productivity will be achieved.

I'm no greater than the kid who will never leave home and who may be content with absolute simplicity. Humans can adapt to any circumstance and we're all alike in one sense that we can make a choice to either accept what we're given or push to be where we'd like to be. "You want to always be outside of your comfort zone or else you are not challenged and unmotivated to improve"(spin instructor). With the busy catering season amassing and for other blatant reasons, I've decided to take a brief trip to Mexico. I can't really afford it but I figure I'll adapt and make it work. I morally cannot say that I am better than any person but will say that I am that person who creates a life that he wants and will not sit back for shit to magically appear.

Werk It

Now that I'm with an agency that possesses international notoriety my efforts to find castings and coordinate photo shoots have lessened and transitioned into a drive to find work that is beyond the dreadful monotony of retail or endless catering. I'm a bit spread over the board with employers; walking two dogs, assisting a designer, the occasional catering work (via staffing companies or craigslist), assisting a music director for two churches, and a laborious job off the internet once and again. Eventually I will add modeling to the list but since being signed (10/28) I've not made any money by it. The holiday seasons slow a lot of modeling work so I pushed to have a few side projects rather than one awful job at Abercrombie and Fitch or being the steady bitch of one catering company. Variety is the spice to life.

Back home in NYC

To make a long story short, things in Hong Kong did not turn out as hoped and my stay there was cut short at my request. There was a lack of motion work wise and communication was choppy on a cultural and professional level. I had gone to Hong Kong with the intention of exploring a new modeling market and gambled on coming home with a profit. My excitement to go over seas whilst bypassing acquiring a mother agency in NY was the catalyst for a premature and apparently specious espousal with the management company whom I had enlisted to market me to the potentially beneficial work opportunities Caucasian models encounter during stints in Asia.

Business aside my travels to and through Hong Kong will forever remain a beautiful memory of adventure. The trip did not change me as a person, I was merely exposed to realities which only present them selves once we remove ourselves from situations and look in retrospect with appreciation of what we had. I learned that NY is the fountain of youth and that there are very few places in the world with as much energy and opportunity. Why would anyone with ambition and entrepreneurial drive to create and succeed be in a city any less?

The Boat Trip

Hong Kong differs from NY obviously in many ways but to me the most appreciated difference I've encountered is the fact that in an hours commute you can be in exotically remote areas scattered along rocky shore lines with jungle esque vegetation. I've hiked to a few of these locations but recently was invited to go on a boat trip which Hong Kongers refer to as a Junk trip. These trips bring you and a crew of like minded folks out for a day to anchor at a serene beach location where you've got a few options for activities throughout the day.

We met in Sai Kung (the village I had ended my first hike in Hong Kong in) and departed at about 9 am. The owner of my agency introduced me to Jocelyn and she was kind enough to invite me on this excursion with a few of her friends as well as a few of her friends friends. We all made our introductions and boarded the vessel, a large boat about 40 feet long with ample space to relax towed a smaller motor boat which was to be used for wakeboarding and banana boating once we arrived at our desired anchoring spot, and we were off.

After just about a half an hour we pulled up to an isolated white sand beach and the anchor was dropped. The first batch of guys boarded the motor boat and went off for wake boarding while everyone else jumped in the sea with a plethora of floaty noodles and a few beers then headed for the beach. It was really great; the people I had just met were all very cool and from such different backgrounds, the location was unlike anywhere I'd ever been, and the schedule of the day was flawless (chill on a boat or on the beach, eat, drink, and be merry). I fantasized about running such an operation; purchasing an old fishing boat somewhere in South America or some random Asian country and bringing out travelers or business folk on my ship wishing to forget about their lives for a day and providing them their temporary venue to do just that. The day dream was brief but I made a mental note to revisit the thought as it seemed promising. The day was packed with good conversation (with good people), decent food, and an overall highly entertaining day. As with any event where the alcohol starts to flow before noon my conciousness faded and in no time I was buying folks shots at a pub playing billiards getting black out drunk-Good times in Hong Kong.

The hike over the ridge...

I was told that my beginning month in Hong Kong would be slow so to counter boredom

and quench my thirst for exploration I've ventured to a few surreal locations. I live

in Ma On Shan and there is a "Country Park" about 15 minutes from my hotel. The first

day I went there I really was not sure how to get there. I mean it's relatively

obvious being that there's a giant mountain range staring you in the face everytime

you walk in my area but to find the trail itself took a bit of navigating.

I found the "family area/BBQ area" and discovered a large map. It showed a mix of

lines going this way and that way but I really didn't know where I ought to go for my

first adventure so I kept it simple and took the road. You can follow a paved road

about the width of one car a pretty good distance, about an hours walk. The road

brings you through some dense vegetation, wild sounding birds, and what felt like an

endless climb. I came to a fork in the road (doesn't that sound so unoriginal?) and

the signs were in Chinese so I opted to go right, I snapped a photo as a guide for my

return back to this point should I have needed to turn around and made it to a

"squatter village".

I Immediately thought to myself how similar this looked to some places I've seen in

Mexico. The "houses" were very make shift either with concrete walls or other

materials bound together to keep the elements out and everyone had fences around their

patio areas where clothes were hung after being cleaned. The walkways through the

village were a maze of walls (with an occasional window I'd peer into to see how cozy

these shacks could be) and I felt that I could have kept walking deeper and deeper but

opted to take a few photos and carry on with my original intentions of summitting the

ridge I had seen and walked towards earlier in the day.

The fork in the road where I was originally puzzled by the Chinese symbols was less

intimidating since I now knew which way was "up". I carried on and eventually the road

got rougher before ceasing to exist as its concrete caterpillar and blossomed into the

butterfly of a (real) trail I was longing for. I completely appreciate having roads

and accessability to beautiful places for those who physically cannot bring themselves

to the gorgeous spots (like the road up Mount Washington in New Hampshire) but at a

certain point I also appreciate being places only accessible to those who push

themselves to their physical extremes (like Mount Everest). I took my pack off, drank

some water, had a handfull of cashews and prepared myself for whatever lay ahead.

Dense bamboo occasionally lined the path which eventually felt more like a natural

staircase than a walking trail and I was a bit disappointed not to be able to see very

far into the growth since I had been listening to some wild sounding birds and wished

to see them. I hiked up appreciating the infrequent openings through the trees which

permitted me faint views of the tall buildings where my hotel was located making the

increase of my elevation blatant. Again, I came upon a sign but this time it was

written not in Chinese characters but still in Chinese and I opted to hike to a town

rather than to summit the Mountain I had been tempted to after studying the map

earlier in the day.

The scenery went from dense forest to somewhat of an open field with rolling hills.

This was exciting for me because at this point I could no longer see any sign of

civilization other than a trail which was well travelled. After twenty minutes of

this, the awe wore off and I was reminded how brutally hot the sun was now with no

trees to protect me from the direct rays of heat. One last sense of excitement was

given to me that day when I saw the trail headed towards a ridge where I could see no

mountains beyond its top. From my past experiences I knew that this meant I would be

getting a lovely view. My pace increased until I made it to that spot and my

assumption was proven to be correct. I could have cried at the beauty, this was a

setting which I never had fathomed I would be viewing in person. Miles ahead of me was

a sea littered with small islands with abruptly climbing hills from their shores and

hundreds of yachts and sail boats accenting the natural beauty of this view like the

stars around the moon on a clear night. Everything in my vision right then was

flawlessly beautiful.

I checked the time and it was only 10 am so after examining the town on the shore line

I had just been flabbergasted by I decided to walk to it. I made it down through the

thick forest and entered what appeared to be the wealthy area of this town. There were

large properties with convertible euro cars parked out front and comfortable vibes,

this was a place I could see myself settling in many many years. I was not sure how to

get to the water but it was relatively easy considering all I had to do was walk down

hill and assumed once it got flat that it would be obvious where to go. Again, my

assumption was validated and I found myself on the sidewalk of the towns center

dripping with sweat but completely satisfied with my trek. I had no intention of

backtracking that trail so I asked a British woman where the bus station was so I

could confirm that I would be bussing out of this town rather than hitch hiking.

The town of Sai Kung is obviously a fishing/boating location and the restaurants

lining the water boast gigantic tanks showcasing the freshest seafood from the fishing

boats. These were the epitome of seafood dining establishments and I was thrilled to

be staring into tanks at creatures I had no idea of what they were and how they may

taste. It was about lunch time and I was starving so I, like any legitimate American

dismissed the notion of consuming this what appeared to be magnificent seafood before

my eyes and ordered a pizza and a cocktail. The bus ride home was brief and I was a

happy boy...

Ok Ok... I need to BLOG more

Now two weeks a resident of Hong Kong it has dawned on me that my adjustment to the

new land has distracted me from my writings and that an update was necessary. I live

in a hotel with two bedrooms, a living room, and a kitchenette. There's a bathroom

with shower and I suppose it has everything one could need to survive here minus

cooking pots and pans. There is a pool, small gym, and computer room with 3 computers

that you can usually use as you please. The best part of the hotel is the shuttle bus

to the MTR (subway) stations.

The neighborhood I live in is mostly Chinese speaking persons with the occasional

European which is a nice change of scenery from my place in Brooklyn. Rather than

seeing hacidic jews walking around my abode there are loads of elderly chinese and

children. Also, I live right on a sea which is surrounded by mountains so I constantly

have this feeling of being in some exotic land, a place I once saw on the national

geographic channel or in travel advertisements and wished that I were there. But I

don't have the mentality of a tourist, I have a pressing fear that I owe someone loads

of money if I don't acquire enough work and it's a shame because I feel that in years

I will look back and say it wasn't so bad...

Hong Kong

It's July and I now live in Hong Kong. Surprised? Events in life don't really surprise me any more I just accept them as part of the innevitable spectrum of good and bad and strive to cherish the good since we never know when those "bad" times will arrive. I am here in HK on a 3 month model contract working with a management company and freelancing with local agencies. The deal I have is that I was fronted the money to cover flight, lodging, and living expenses in exchange for my reimbursing my financier upon departure from Hong Kong as well as allowing their 40% cut from any and all jobs I acquire here as a model.

Paying Dues

I started catering alot. Tonight we were called in for 4pm to a mosaic tile showroom. The event went for 3 hours but did not start until 6pm. Set up was easy, service bar for champagne and oj while on the other side of the showroom the kitchen prepped to pump out sweet pea and ricotta on crackers, Grilled cheddar with pickle, and asparagrus cheesy puffs as needed through the night. The guys I was working with were the regular group I was teamed with so I knew operation would run smoothly.

The night did conclude with little interruptions and that's been the pattern for the past few weeks. 2 to 3 nights a week dedicated to late nights of dealing with the pompous, pretentious, scavenging populous whom attend the events I serve at. Every beginning to my nights as a caterer tensions exude into my muscles as the thought of the what appear and act to be famined and desperate for food guests to the event huddle around the exit of the kitchen area awaiting our platters of finger foods like lions around a cave entrance with a wounded puppy that has a really sad (cry for me) look on its face hiding inside. There was one group of older women who were beyond curvy that after I stopped going over to where they were sitting to serve them they laid down napkins on the speaker which was directly in front of the door where we exit to begin to serve guests at the party and would surround each guy who came out with a platter taking two or 3 hors duerves at a time. We had to begin to come up through the elevators and emergency exits because the guests were hoarding entry points for the food. We were like wounded chipmunks attempting to feed our babies amidst a forest of rabid cats with heat sensing night vision. I cater and work as often as possible because (it brings me to unique places around NYC AND) I've decided that if my modeling career is to move forward I must travel overseas to explore different opportunities for success. My goal is to be living in another country by July.

(Second floor of a house party I worked at; yes thats a pool, yes thats a dude in a canoe with a captains cap, and yes those are some triply visuals)

"every day I'm hustling"

Fast forward to May 14th. I wake up at 8 am and consume a large amount of cooked egg whites. The day prior, Friday the 13th, I had found a posting on Craigslist titled "real models for T shirt Look Book". I noticed that the shoot was scheduled to be in my neighborhood so I said to myself- why turn it down. Compensation was low but I got a free t shirt out of it as well and it was literally a five minute walk after I had crawled out of bed.

The folks I worked with ended up having a huge apartment and we shot the photos on the roof. My co-models were a DJ from Park Slope, a world traveler/dermatologist, and a variety of other regular people from the area. We shot about 5 t shirts then the DJ and I were cut so we could tend to other obligations the day had in hand for us.

I headed back to my place but dropped into the mini market for milk, a ramen noodles packet, and a can of Dinty Moore Beef Stew. When I got in I made a bowl of cocoa puffs with protein mix, watched some of "The Beast", and then consumed my ramen and beef stew. The reason I ate so much was because I knew I had a long day ahead of me and was trying not to spend any more money that day.

My next assignment for the day was to meet with a Korean coffee company's marketing team for a quick photo shoot in Times Square. There were 10 regular people models including myself (ouch), the Korean photographers, and others who were employed at the office we gathered in initially. We were handed branded shirts, berets, and aprons before walking outdoors and suited up. The official American team for Caffe Bene, Koreas attack against Starbucks.

We lined up in front of the infamous stairs and took a few shots with a large sign for the coffee shop and held a few coffee cups for variety. After the Koreans were content with our performance I stripped myself of the ridiculous outfit and signed for my compensation. Good ol' cash money...

I continued the busy rhythm of my day by hitting the gym for a few hours before my next and last job. It was a weak session as my motivation was minimal but it felt to be the best way to kill time before heading to the birthday party I was to barbecue at. I sat in the sauna, showered, then hit the train to make the commute.

Upon arrival I met up with another model whom I had worked with at an event a week or two ago. We were contacted by a designer that we had shot together with and he wanted to know if we'd bar tend and serve food at his relatives event. I told him that we were in no way professionals but that we had experience in the service industry and were pretty sure that we could handle his requested tasks. So from that gathering a guest asked us to provide the same service at her upcoming birthday party. We agreed and this was our arrival to the mentioned party.

Two older women were celebrating their birthdays together and fortunately for them they were neighbors and had connecting outdoor areas on the 3rd floor of the high rise their places were in. There were already people partying when we arrived and Frank the other model was put on the bar so I hit the grills to see what I was working with. 3 charcoal barbecue grills = a dream come true. One of the birthday girls showed me what was on the menu and I threw some marinated chicken legs and thighs as well as a big slab of beef which I didn't catch the name of. The smell was flawless because they had purchased bags of wood charcoal and the seasoning of the meat was dripping down so it was the epitome of a BBQ smell.

Coinciding with the grilling both birthday girls had their ovens on and were cooking spinach triangles and mini broccoli and cheese quiches for the guests to snack on. So I was running back and forth between apartments making sure 3 full racks of heur deurves per oven were cooked perfectly, a little stressful but fortunately the hostesses were really laid back and helped out when they could.

The guests were getting the munchies and were going through my bbq goodies almost as quickly as I was cooking them. Being on an elevated patio the wind significantly fueled the coals causing almost too much heat in the grills. This caused me to have to constantly tend to the meat so the outside did not blacken. At the end of the night the party goers were content with the food. I made a fillet for the hostess and her first word was "amazing". My boy Frank handled the bar like a champ and we ended up getting tipped out from that.

We stayed longer than anticipated and our hostess did not compensate legitimately for this but I just said "fuck it". We got her event through another event so maybe one will come from this. I made a G&T for the road and made it back to my place a little past 4 am...

Catering

When I first moved to NY I quickly learned that working in catering was the best way to make money for the least bit of required skill. There is ample opportunity to acquire work in the field especially if you've got the model aesthetic. Some companies hire any type of person and some work exclusively with models. I've currently got a few companies that offer me consistent work and I'm able to pick and choose between the hours and compensation which vary between job.

Tonight I was hired to be a server at a Jewish wedding in Long Island. Tuxedos were the designated attire and the company who staffed me provided me with one, they actually gave it to me. We're not talking Armani, this suit will probably fall apart in a week. In comparison to cars this suit is a soap box car to luxury vehicles none the less, I made it look good.

I made it to the departure location being that we were driving to a country club in long island from the city. 15 guys loaded into a 15 passenger van and most of us passed out during the 45 minute drive. We pulled into the property and immediately filed down to the basement where we were briefed on how the night was planned to go down and then we were positioned in a massive tent where the wedding ceremony would take place.

The country club had its own serving staff so what the 15 of us hired by the model staffing company were brought in for was to oversee everything and make sure things ran smoothly. Basically we were paid to look pretty and manage the house staff. The effort needed for the night was minimal which was relieving as my energy was low and my desire to work as hard as usual catering events was not present. I did arrive with a slight bit of hunger and had every intention of taking care of that despite the managers lack of planning to do so.

Proceeding the ceremony was a cocktail/light food hour and a half where the tuxedo rocking models merely paced the room picking up glasses and keeping things tidy while the house staff served and heavily cleared drinks and dishes. I immediately sensed a bit of friction as we (the models) were instructed to only clear two glasses or two plates per clearing while the members of the serving crew of the country club were serving and clearly heavily. I did find some humor in that and continued to humor myself by playing a game with myself. How much food can you eat without being yelled at.

Initially I had an advantage as the house staff were blatant server looking folks with black vests and serving trays while the crew I was with seemed to blend in with the rest of the guests with the majority of the men wearing similar looking outfits. Finger foods were passed while there were extravagant buffets with most types of foods offered in excess. At first I scoped my options and determined that since many of my superiors were unknown I'd have to maintain a ninja like consumption of food and was only able to eat the finger foods. The buffet foods such as pizza and mini burritos would be a much more difficult challenge.

After consuming some chicken skewers and mini hot dog rolls from the servers trays I was uncontrollably enticed by the foods at the buffet tables. Food from the tabled buffets was only acquired by holding a plate and directing the server to serve a certain food and portion on that plate. Since we were directed only to pick up one or two items at a time I would find a lonely plate or a plate which already had food placed on it by a server awaiting its retrieval by a starving jew (twas a jewish wedding don't forget). I would then go to a food station with food easily able to be consumed in a bite or two and discreetly approached the serving station and requested the food. My attempts while cautious were successful. I managed to get these killer fried shrimp balls and some pizza, yes I said it... Pizza. Once some of the house servers started to grasp that I was "working" they started getting sassy so I pulled back my efforts and began to blend back in with the rest of the model staff.

Guests were migrating to the ballroom where they had their designated tables so I headed to my assigned tables "three and four" to see who I'd be required to pretend I liked and wanted to serve. Fortunately I had two house staff to take care of drinks though I did ask those with thirsty eyes if I may have the pleasure of fabricating beverages before their eyes. When the food was to be served, house staff choreographed a table by table display of serving precision.

First, the salads were layers of fried zucchini, mozzarella cheese, roasted red peppers, and some other colorful veggies. As they were consumed and cleared a wave of combo plates were served; fillet mignon and chicken breast with potatoes and asparagus. Lastly, desert was chocolate lava cakes and on a separate plate was a not so tasty fancy version of apple pie. Each plate in the last round of serving had a scoop of ice cream and for every table there was a plate of strawberries with pineapple slices. Break down was slow and monotonous but eventually we were all back in the van, passed out, ready to go back to our places to sleep.

My First Porn Shoot

The eXXXotica convention is one of the largest adult film expos to travel the country. With the largest amount of vendors related to the adult/sex industry you can find any sort of fantasy or product related to that fantasy there. As with any major production, eXXXotica takes precise measures to ensure that their expo will be properly marketed and advertised.

I found the post on craigslist and let out a sigh. One of those sighs where one knows this may not be the best decision to be taking on but that there's a small chance it could turn out OK. My email sent and after a few days I was notified that I was the only male model to be selected for the shoot. I inquired on the specifics as I was not willing to be a porn star just yet and the guy working on the shoot assured me it would at worst be a "sexy PG-13" shoot. The compensation was discussed and I was confirmed.

Fortunately the call time was 11 am and the location was simply one stop down the train from my stop so it couldn't be any easier to go to. Unfortunately it was the coldest day of the year and the shoot space was a warehouse converted to a music venue mostly for cabaret and small bands. I arrived to the spot and met the crew, saw some ladies who looked like they didn't belong in the cold weather, and then some other girls who were a bit more prepared with large winter coats and coffees in hand.

This shoot was unique from my others for the blatant reasons but also because while I was a model for the shoot I was only there as a filler. The main "attraction" was the three professional porn stars. So when I was there every guy on set was chatting it up with "the talent" as they liked to say and I was lounging on the couch listening to music unnoticed.

The girls from the area were referred to as "the hotties" and I was referred to as "the male hottie or Mottie" (they thought Mottie was a clever term). The porn stars were "the talent". There were also some cabaret girls, a sword swallowing girl who also played with fire, a mustache man, and a midget (short person?-PC??). Needless to say, the crew had their hands full. To make it worse, the building we were in was cold inside than outside so everyone was basically huddled around the heaters while not being summoned for make up or shooting.

The first scene was on the stage. On center stage was a well used red couch and a piano sat off to its side. When all positioned; the porn stars were on the couch, a chick hanging from the ceiling immediately behind them, the midget and mustache guy on piano, and me with the two hotties on the opposite side of the stage from the piano. "One fucked up family photo" was the goal of one of the guys running the show.

There were a few more random scenes but I was only used for 2 shots so I was pretty much warming myself by the heaters all day. Lunch was nice, grilled chicken salad with sushi. Before any food was provided more or less as soon as the shooting started the girls requested beverages. The director of the shoot comes back with three bags of drinks; about 6 bottles of wine, some champagne, and 2 6 packs of beer.

When I was allowed to leave I enjoyed a few beers, exchanged contact info with the photographer and some other folk, then got my check and bounced. All in all it was a good day. Really easy money despite the battle with frostbite all day. Now I can call myself a porn star .... and die a happy man.