I made a trip to the uncles place up north for a few days. It was a pleasant break from the fast paced rhythm I've become accustomed to in NYC. Though my uncle and I worked two and a half days and accomplished lots, I still felt it was far more peaceful than any "rest" day in the city. We worked on the two new rooms added to his house, had some beverages, and the auntie made us some very tasty food.
Being my youngest (and more like a brother than an uncle) uncle its odd to call his two beautiful daughters my cousins but they are and soon to celebrate two years of life. Its always a pleasure to be around kids of that age. Even though they'll cry and fuss on occasion there's some sort of refreshing energy they dispense with their learning how to communicate and take on the new challenges of life. Like reading a first hand description of an explorers first steps in a new land, watching my cousins progress into independent humans was inspiring to keep living a diverse and unique life. I left my uncles place with a fresh perspective to continue battling the temptations to give up on my goals in this ever demanding city I've chosen to dwell in.
Now that I am back I've made it a point to constantly assess my thoughts and embrace the fact that negativity and weakness is waiting at every moment to dissuade me from pursuing my ambitions.
No matter how tired I am I will go to the gym.
No matter how hungry I am I will not eat like a fat ass.
No matter how frustrating and discouraging the progress of my modeling is I will not quit.
I will not quit.
Monday, August 16, 2010
Egyptian-Nude
The week began with a green screen (think weather man) shoot where I played the role of an egyptian soldier. The movie was being shot for a bar mitzvah (spelling: I'm not a Jew!). Clearly another way for a rich family to show off how much money they've got to friends and families, how sweet. The only bright side I saw was the birthday boy who was thrilled to be in the studio being featured in his own movie. I was not a lone soldier though, I had 4 fellow soldiers.
2 of them were the producers friends and they did not know each other, a short nonstop talking Canadian, and then one tall guy from france-Random. I was first in the studio and the other soldiers slowly came in. The first one was a tennis player looking guy who made his introduction and settled into the couch. Second was a short fat dude who smelled like a skunk. Third was the tall frenchy and lastly was the short Canadian.
There were a few other Jew characters for the film and surprisingly they were actually Jewish! I told one of them (the one that looked like frodo just with a few dozen more donuts in the belly) that there was a potent scent in the air and he told me to follow my nose and I may find the pot at the end of the rainbow. As the sentence was being completed one of the producers friends whom was to play the soldier role walks in stankin like dankin with a full plate of danish, muffins, and pastry (Quality). I look at him and smile, "those are some good lookin munchies" - yeah you want some munchies - "sure".
Cheech the Jew ended up getting dismissed due to his trip to his mothers minivan (parked out of the studio on the street with his brothers handicap rearview mirror decoration permitting the spot) every 10 minutes. The boys father who was funding this whole operation was not appreciative of that vibe around his son. I'm not gonna lie it added some humor to the hours of eventless waiting but with the youngin round thurr it shouldve been more quietly executed.
The short Canadian guy was the epitome of what the dalai llama writes about in regards to looking at annoying people positively and dubbing them great exercise of your patience. He just kept talking and talking. I told him about model mayhem and that he could find photographers who would work for free. He was pretty clueless on working the site so I filled him in but he just kept talking and talking while we kept waiting and waiting to be used.
This was a video shoot so needless to say the food table was full of danish, pastries, and bagels/muffins. Then what do you know, for lunch they bought 5 pizzas-all cheese. Alright, I know cheese is a safe bet but damn GET ONE PIZZA WITH A VARIETY OF TOPPINGS! I ate to quench my hunger and then my boredom.
After 6 hours of waiting we were called to action. Headbands, weapons, full costumer, and of course the make up making me look egyptian. We walked into the studio, pretended to be fierce warriors then fierce warriors walking down a road, then got let go. We waited 6 hours for 20 minutes of shooting. Story of my life.
After the shoot I traveled to a new part of Brooklyn (to myself). I was to dabble with something I had yet to do in the fine city of New York; pose nude for an art class. My history has plenty of experience in posing nude for artists so it wasn't a huge deal but after not doing it for quite some time I wasn't feeling enthusiastic about it. Money is Money and its not like I work for free so after I departed the train I explored the new area a bit then went to the artists studio.
There were about 15 artists in the room. Painters, drawers, charcoalers, all sorts of methods to capture my figure. The man organizing the class informed me of the location for me to change into my robe. I told him I didn't have a robe and he had a puzzled look on his face. He said usually models bring their own robes, I can look for one around here though. I replied, aren't I going to be naked on the stage? "Yes" then I'll just take my clothes off and go on stage, not a big deal. The class started out with my posing for 30 seconds and then changing the pose.
Most of the artists had a folding chair for themselves and then a second chair facing them to rest their canvas or other materials on. With the chairs in a horse shoe shape I was on a 5X5 stage with two holes in the base to hold a bar with two poles as the base and one going across them perpendicular up top, this was my leaning bar. The space was not air conditioned so there were numerous fans humming in the background and the only other sound was the timing beeping after the allotted time for a pose had concluded and the occasional pencil or paper dropping. The lighting was scattered around the room though the attention was certainly on me.
My poses at first were simple. After a few the boss of the operation spoke up and told me to do some more high fashion poses (arms at angles, leaning, basically any pose that looks and feels uncomfortable). As the pose durations extended I was comforted and guided more and more from the "students" of the class on my posing. The most helpful advice was to pretend I was in battle. They want to see my muscle in active positions so I pretended to be throwing a spear or reaching down to pick someone up or dance like a ballerina...void the third pose, I just did that in my head.
Poses went from 30 seconds and ended with one 25 minute pose. As the timer signaled the end of the session I felt like collapsing, curling up into a little ball, and sleeping like a baby, I resisted the urge. I dressed, collected my money, and departed quickly. A feeling I had not felt in a while flooded my body: exhaustion. I needed to sleep and prepare for the next days shoot.
Sleep came and went and I found myself in the basement of a vampire/goth store waiting for the photographer to get this catalog shoot started. I'm not going to get into details but to sum this shoot up; tons of gothy clothes, lots of pizza (yeah, they didn't get the model memo), and a long day with cash money in hand at the end of the day. Living in NYC exposes me to a variety of encounters, encounters I will look back on while in my 30's-40's and say wow...but for now I just say-Damn, I'm tired.
2 of them were the producers friends and they did not know each other, a short nonstop talking Canadian, and then one tall guy from france-Random. I was first in the studio and the other soldiers slowly came in. The first one was a tennis player looking guy who made his introduction and settled into the couch. Second was a short fat dude who smelled like a skunk. Third was the tall frenchy and lastly was the short Canadian.
There were a few other Jew characters for the film and surprisingly they were actually Jewish! I told one of them (the one that looked like frodo just with a few dozen more donuts in the belly) that there was a potent scent in the air and he told me to follow my nose and I may find the pot at the end of the rainbow. As the sentence was being completed one of the producers friends whom was to play the soldier role walks in stankin like dankin with a full plate of danish, muffins, and pastry (Quality). I look at him and smile, "those are some good lookin munchies" - yeah you want some munchies - "sure".
Cheech the Jew ended up getting dismissed due to his trip to his mothers minivan (parked out of the studio on the street with his brothers handicap rearview mirror decoration permitting the spot) every 10 minutes. The boys father who was funding this whole operation was not appreciative of that vibe around his son. I'm not gonna lie it added some humor to the hours of eventless waiting but with the youngin round thurr it shouldve been more quietly executed.
The short Canadian guy was the epitome of what the dalai llama writes about in regards to looking at annoying people positively and dubbing them great exercise of your patience. He just kept talking and talking. I told him about model mayhem and that he could find photographers who would work for free. He was pretty clueless on working the site so I filled him in but he just kept talking and talking while we kept waiting and waiting to be used.
This was a video shoot so needless to say the food table was full of danish, pastries, and bagels/muffins. Then what do you know, for lunch they bought 5 pizzas-all cheese. Alright, I know cheese is a safe bet but damn GET ONE PIZZA WITH A VARIETY OF TOPPINGS! I ate to quench my hunger and then my boredom.
After 6 hours of waiting we were called to action. Headbands, weapons, full costumer, and of course the make up making me look egyptian. We walked into the studio, pretended to be fierce warriors then fierce warriors walking down a road, then got let go. We waited 6 hours for 20 minutes of shooting. Story of my life.
After the shoot I traveled to a new part of Brooklyn (to myself). I was to dabble with something I had yet to do in the fine city of New York; pose nude for an art class. My history has plenty of experience in posing nude for artists so it wasn't a huge deal but after not doing it for quite some time I wasn't feeling enthusiastic about it. Money is Money and its not like I work for free so after I departed the train I explored the new area a bit then went to the artists studio.
There were about 15 artists in the room. Painters, drawers, charcoalers, all sorts of methods to capture my figure. The man organizing the class informed me of the location for me to change into my robe. I told him I didn't have a robe and he had a puzzled look on his face. He said usually models bring their own robes, I can look for one around here though. I replied, aren't I going to be naked on the stage? "Yes" then I'll just take my clothes off and go on stage, not a big deal. The class started out with my posing for 30 seconds and then changing the pose.
Most of the artists had a folding chair for themselves and then a second chair facing them to rest their canvas or other materials on. With the chairs in a horse shoe shape I was on a 5X5 stage with two holes in the base to hold a bar with two poles as the base and one going across them perpendicular up top, this was my leaning bar. The space was not air conditioned so there were numerous fans humming in the background and the only other sound was the timing beeping after the allotted time for a pose had concluded and the occasional pencil or paper dropping. The lighting was scattered around the room though the attention was certainly on me.
My poses at first were simple. After a few the boss of the operation spoke up and told me to do some more high fashion poses (arms at angles, leaning, basically any pose that looks and feels uncomfortable). As the pose durations extended I was comforted and guided more and more from the "students" of the class on my posing. The most helpful advice was to pretend I was in battle. They want to see my muscle in active positions so I pretended to be throwing a spear or reaching down to pick someone up or dance like a ballerina...void the third pose, I just did that in my head.
Poses went from 30 seconds and ended with one 25 minute pose. As the timer signaled the end of the session I felt like collapsing, curling up into a little ball, and sleeping like a baby, I resisted the urge. I dressed, collected my money, and departed quickly. A feeling I had not felt in a while flooded my body: exhaustion. I needed to sleep and prepare for the next days shoot.
Sleep came and went and I found myself in the basement of a vampire/goth store waiting for the photographer to get this catalog shoot started. I'm not going to get into details but to sum this shoot up; tons of gothy clothes, lots of pizza (yeah, they didn't get the model memo), and a long day with cash money in hand at the end of the day. Living in NYC exposes me to a variety of encounters, encounters I will look back on while in my 30's-40's and say wow...but for now I just say-Damn, I'm tired.
Jewelry Shoot-Party Server Shirtless
Fortunately I have continued to get cast for paid work. I got selected to be in a video look book for a jeweler. The humor in this is that I had actually found this gig by myself and one morning I emailed my agent to see if he had a casting for me and what do you know, he had the one that I had worked on finding! This is cool though because the more I show Boss that I can book things the more likely they will be willing to send me to castings in the future.
So I did the fitting for this shoot before meeting with Ford and that helped keep my mind off of the bigger things I had in the works. The day of the shoot came and I was not required to report in until noon. I got to brooklyn earlier than necessary and before I got to the studio my agent calls and informed me that the designer was trying to hold payment and lower the amount. My Boss man continued and said "we will not play bitch, Randall I know you new to modeling but we will not let this happen-i am on vacation and they call me telling me that they do not want to pay the agreed rate, no no no."
So I'm told not to go to the studio until I get a call. When I got the call I was told that they'd be giving me a check before I left and that all was well, "you don't know nothing about this. Just go there, smile, and be beautiful." So I arrive and there was no drama. I introduced myself to everyone and after I found out that I was to wait before getting my hair and make up did I do what always comes naturally, I sought out the food table.
You can determine whether you're at a photo shoot or a video shoot by viewing the table of food. Any video productions I've been included in have had gnarly amounts of candy, carbs, and crap (pizza, subs, granola bars) while at a photo shoot most of the time I find food where the composers of the shoot take into consideration what the model can eat. They understand we aren't the fat ass behind the scenes who can scarf down 20 slices of pizza and 50 bagels throughout the day without worry and provide the models with lovely trays of veggies or salads. None the less I am a poor model and take what I am given, HAPPILY.
If I'm not mistaken I consumed 3 bagels, 2 granola bars, and a lot of water in the 4 hours I was there. For "lunch" they bought some weird things that were like over sized ravioli with cheese and potatoes in them...I had one and wanted to puke in the mouth of whomever had the brilliant idea to order them. Fuckin nasty.
So I got my hair done, comb over (big fuckin surprise!!!) and then proceeded to get my make up. I voiced my distraught feelings of how my hair was styled to the make up artist and she attempted to comfort me by saying "oh no, its looks good!"
I grew my hair out to allow people to have flexibility in styling my hair. Now all I get is stylists doing the comb over. I told the make up artist that even at my punk runway show when i was expecting some wild spikes or maybe even a punk mohawk I was let down and what do you think I got?! The comb over, ahhhhhhhh I think its time to shave my head (there goes modeling) anyway, I told the MUA that its cool though. I'm just a mannequin and do as I'm styled.
My first scene was me in a striped sailors robe and some white cotton pants. My freshly shaved chest was exposed to display the necklace I was wearing. I was directed to look at the camera, look away, and close my eyes. Then I had to blink for a solid minute. Like I said, I just do as I'm told! Try blinking as fast as you can for a minute, something I would have never fathomed modeling would lead me to.
I ate some pretzels and changed my outfit. The director said she didn't need me so I passed out for a solid hour and a half in the break room and awoke to consume another bagel but this time with peanut butter. My next scene was to step into the frame where a female model was wearing a backless dress with a necklace draped down her back. Her back was being shot so her face was a mystery to the viewer. I step in and slide my hand from her shoulder to the side of her lower back. Very complicated.
The next shot she was facing the camera and I was behind her. I was directed to slide my hands over her stomach and down her legs in a sensual manner and then after a while her hands would meet mine. Lastly, I slid my hand from her ear to hear jaw line and turned her head towards my face. It was an interesting and completely boring experience but the pay was good (for the effort I had to put forth) so who could complain? They cut me a check in my name and I departed.
I had nothing else planned for the day so I decided to walk back to Manhattan via bridge. I believe its the Brooklyn bridge but whatever the name, the bridge that drops you on Delancey Street in the lower east side is what I took. The lighting was pre sunset so it was still a bit warm but my sunscreen was on and I was relaxed.
The check was written in my name and this made me think. My agent had argued for them to cut me a check but I thought it was to be written out to the agency so they could get their cut. For a brief moment I considered just cashing the check and having half my rent paid...then I figured no. I am a slave to this agency seeing how they are the only ones to give me a chance and take me on their board so I must show my thanks by obeying. The next day I brought the check to the agency.
My agent was out so the other in the office advised me to keep the check. Fortunately for me a photographer just so happened to be there awaiting the arrival of another model to shoot for the show package for fashion week. The other agent decided to have me shot for the package since I was there. Such a mind fuck seeing how my agent said I could not do fashion week because my book was too new. Whatever!!! I happily had my photos taken on the roof and carried on with my day.
The following day consisted of an extremely lazy morning and I did not depart the bed until about 2:30 pm. I dressed and headed to Penn station. This day, my assignment was to travel to Long Island where I would serve at a pool party shirtless. I took the Long Island Rail Road about 40 minutes out and got off the train. Since I had not eaten breakfast I went immediately to the nearest pizza place (I know, such a fat ass BUT the alternative was dunkin donuts and what would you have thought if I said "I went to dd and consumed a dozen donuts."? Those days are over!)
The pizza place was impressive. I consumed a bbq chicken slice which was loaded with chicken and then ordered 4 garlic balls. The inevitable question was presented to the cashier, "do yall have hot sauce?" I got my hot sauce and covered my slice thoroughly, DELISH! Garlic BALLS did not follow suit. Anyway, I had some time so I opted for a second slice but this time it was only covered with cheese AND HOT SAUCE! I departed the pizza parlor and proceeded to walk 3 miles to the residence where my "work" was about to begin.
The first thing I did was take note of the neighborhoods I was walking through. What type of houses, cars, and people was this community populated with? This is an easy way to determine the expected over all tip as well as the individual tips I'd be receiving. Once I found the house I scoped the cars parked out front as this was my last resort to determine my income to conclude the evening...nicest car was a mini-worst was a mini van...hard to read but I'm an optimist, it'll be a good night.
I ring the door bell and am greeted by a gay man. I completely forgot the husband of the couple I was working fors name and just said I was here for the wife, dude probably thought I was the stripper. I'm lead to the backyard pool area and meet the hostess who already has her white wine and looks as if she's had a few already. The first thing she does is welcomes me and thanks me for being there then proceeds to offer me food and drink, a genuine and kind woman.
After I settle in, take my shirt off, and throw some jeans on my hostess informs me that I need to loosen up and work the crowds. She forced me to take a shot but I told her that I won't be taking any shots solo that evening so she hesitantly accepted her accompanying shot. As she was raising her shot her sister yelled her name and gave her the look, clearly this chick gets blitzed easily...she took her shot and I took two.
I walked around with a tray and no shirt. Did I mention I was shirtless? I really do feel like a douche bag walking around a party with no shirt on-i really don't love myself enough to be like OHHH YEAH I'm cool with no shirt on. Work is work though and I do what I need to do for the benjamins-baby. So my introductions were sincere and I started taking drink orders.
The crowd had about 35% gay men so I was forced many more shots. The party had an ice luge for shots so I definitely had some facebook worthy shot shots of my partaking in that insanity with the gays and drunken ladies-FUN. I'll be tagged "shirtless boy" or "Randall". Whatever.
So after about an hour my assistants rolled up. One woman in her late 40's with pretty large breasts and a 23 year old chick, a little lady. Did I mention they were topless as well? So we make our introductions and take our obligatory introductory shots...not gonna lie, I could read on the little chick that she was a partier and I thought itd be funny to see her tipsy. She got tipsy alright.
So the party carries on into the sunset and the tips are getting larger. At one point the younger topless chick asks me how much I'm getting tipped because "I've been serving mad drinks and only gotten $3 in tips". I lied and said only a few dollars as well but my pockets were bulging with money. Then as I was leaving she decided to enlighten me.
She told me to listen to her advice. "Listen, if a chick asks you for a soda never ask if she wants diet. I forgot how insecure women can be and if you ask her if she wants diet she'll think you're calling her fat." I thanked her for her words of brilliance and departed the kitchen. Apparently this chick has some sort of a degree and dubbed her job in genetics a "wicked hard job" yet she's still working topless at a pool party she found of craigslist. I'm sorry but I feel its worse for a woman to work topless than for a man to but that's just based on the standards of our society...perhaps that's just my close minded thoughts, shhhh.
More and more shots were consumed and I found myself attempting to be responsible and drink a few bottled waters to maintain my charm for those tips! My 23 year old female topless serving partner was beginning to get noticed by all and I saw her being spoken to by the hostess at the pool so I went over.
Apparently she served someone a vodka when they asked for a water and the hostess was trying to be like, you fucked up. She argued saying that she got the right drink and even if she was wrong she was right. Her rant continued, "I serve parties at fashion week all the time. In fact they always call model bartenders like me for fashion week (cuz I'm so beautiful) and when I serve celebrities they should be happy to even get a drink. It doesn't matter what you give them you just give them a drink and they better be fuckin happy." This is where it got awkward because the woman who originally ordered the drink was right there and this chick was basically saying just drink the fucking vodka even though you ordered a water. Quality mess...I'm not judging though, I've worn those shoes many a time.
So as I was trying to get her mind off of the drink and onto being chill she abruptly stated that she needed to be in the pool and dove right in. She said some drunken statement that I ignored as at this point every sound out of her mouth was a nuisance to fix my hearing to and told her that itd be a great idea to go off the diving board. She enthusiastically agreed! Unfortunately some of the motherly figures at the party disagreed with my suggestion and as she boarded the board she was quickly denied and told to go home. HAH.
With my entertainment gone home it was nearly perfect timing when a woman started rolling a doobie on the kitchen table. I nonchalantly walked over and asked her what she was doing. She offered for my participation and the boring atmosphere got a bit more bearable.
The end of the party consisted of a male stripper swinging (no pun intended) through, my staying an hour later than booked (don't worry I got paid for it), and the larger chested topless woman giving me a ride to the train station. That's it, just a ride! I sloppily made it back into the city and into bed. As I was attempting to pass out my stomach informed me that this was not an option and I made a run for the toilet...story of my life.
So I did the fitting for this shoot before meeting with Ford and that helped keep my mind off of the bigger things I had in the works. The day of the shoot came and I was not required to report in until noon. I got to brooklyn earlier than necessary and before I got to the studio my agent calls and informed me that the designer was trying to hold payment and lower the amount. My Boss man continued and said "we will not play bitch, Randall I know you new to modeling but we will not let this happen-i am on vacation and they call me telling me that they do not want to pay the agreed rate, no no no."
So I'm told not to go to the studio until I get a call. When I got the call I was told that they'd be giving me a check before I left and that all was well, "you don't know nothing about this. Just go there, smile, and be beautiful." So I arrive and there was no drama. I introduced myself to everyone and after I found out that I was to wait before getting my hair and make up did I do what always comes naturally, I sought out the food table.
You can determine whether you're at a photo shoot or a video shoot by viewing the table of food. Any video productions I've been included in have had gnarly amounts of candy, carbs, and crap (pizza, subs, granola bars) while at a photo shoot most of the time I find food where the composers of the shoot take into consideration what the model can eat. They understand we aren't the fat ass behind the scenes who can scarf down 20 slices of pizza and 50 bagels throughout the day without worry and provide the models with lovely trays of veggies or salads. None the less I am a poor model and take what I am given, HAPPILY.
If I'm not mistaken I consumed 3 bagels, 2 granola bars, and a lot of water in the 4 hours I was there. For "lunch" they bought some weird things that were like over sized ravioli with cheese and potatoes in them...I had one and wanted to puke in the mouth of whomever had the brilliant idea to order them. Fuckin nasty.
So I got my hair done, comb over (big fuckin surprise!!!) and then proceeded to get my make up. I voiced my distraught feelings of how my hair was styled to the make up artist and she attempted to comfort me by saying "oh no, its looks good!"
I grew my hair out to allow people to have flexibility in styling my hair. Now all I get is stylists doing the comb over. I told the make up artist that even at my punk runway show when i was expecting some wild spikes or maybe even a punk mohawk I was let down and what do you think I got?! The comb over, ahhhhhhhh I think its time to shave my head (there goes modeling) anyway, I told the MUA that its cool though. I'm just a mannequin and do as I'm styled.
My first scene was me in a striped sailors robe and some white cotton pants. My freshly shaved chest was exposed to display the necklace I was wearing. I was directed to look at the camera, look away, and close my eyes. Then I had to blink for a solid minute. Like I said, I just do as I'm told! Try blinking as fast as you can for a minute, something I would have never fathomed modeling would lead me to.
I ate some pretzels and changed my outfit. The director said she didn't need me so I passed out for a solid hour and a half in the break room and awoke to consume another bagel but this time with peanut butter. My next scene was to step into the frame where a female model was wearing a backless dress with a necklace draped down her back. Her back was being shot so her face was a mystery to the viewer. I step in and slide my hand from her shoulder to the side of her lower back. Very complicated.
The next shot she was facing the camera and I was behind her. I was directed to slide my hands over her stomach and down her legs in a sensual manner and then after a while her hands would meet mine. Lastly, I slid my hand from her ear to hear jaw line and turned her head towards my face. It was an interesting and completely boring experience but the pay was good (for the effort I had to put forth) so who could complain? They cut me a check in my name and I departed.
I had nothing else planned for the day so I decided to walk back to Manhattan via bridge. I believe its the Brooklyn bridge but whatever the name, the bridge that drops you on Delancey Street in the lower east side is what I took. The lighting was pre sunset so it was still a bit warm but my sunscreen was on and I was relaxed.
The check was written in my name and this made me think. My agent had argued for them to cut me a check but I thought it was to be written out to the agency so they could get their cut. For a brief moment I considered just cashing the check and having half my rent paid...then I figured no. I am a slave to this agency seeing how they are the only ones to give me a chance and take me on their board so I must show my thanks by obeying. The next day I brought the check to the agency.
My agent was out so the other in the office advised me to keep the check. Fortunately for me a photographer just so happened to be there awaiting the arrival of another model to shoot for the show package for fashion week. The other agent decided to have me shot for the package since I was there. Such a mind fuck seeing how my agent said I could not do fashion week because my book was too new. Whatever!!! I happily had my photos taken on the roof and carried on with my day.
The following day consisted of an extremely lazy morning and I did not depart the bed until about 2:30 pm. I dressed and headed to Penn station. This day, my assignment was to travel to Long Island where I would serve at a pool party shirtless. I took the Long Island Rail Road about 40 minutes out and got off the train. Since I had not eaten breakfast I went immediately to the nearest pizza place (I know, such a fat ass BUT the alternative was dunkin donuts and what would you have thought if I said "I went to dd and consumed a dozen donuts."? Those days are over!)
The pizza place was impressive. I consumed a bbq chicken slice which was loaded with chicken and then ordered 4 garlic balls. The inevitable question was presented to the cashier, "do yall have hot sauce?" I got my hot sauce and covered my slice thoroughly, DELISH! Garlic BALLS did not follow suit. Anyway, I had some time so I opted for a second slice but this time it was only covered with cheese AND HOT SAUCE! I departed the pizza parlor and proceeded to walk 3 miles to the residence where my "work" was about to begin.
The first thing I did was take note of the neighborhoods I was walking through. What type of houses, cars, and people was this community populated with? This is an easy way to determine the expected over all tip as well as the individual tips I'd be receiving. Once I found the house I scoped the cars parked out front as this was my last resort to determine my income to conclude the evening...nicest car was a mini-worst was a mini van...hard to read but I'm an optimist, it'll be a good night.
I ring the door bell and am greeted by a gay man. I completely forgot the husband of the couple I was working fors name and just said I was here for the wife, dude probably thought I was the stripper. I'm lead to the backyard pool area and meet the hostess who already has her white wine and looks as if she's had a few already. The first thing she does is welcomes me and thanks me for being there then proceeds to offer me food and drink, a genuine and kind woman.
After I settle in, take my shirt off, and throw some jeans on my hostess informs me that I need to loosen up and work the crowds. She forced me to take a shot but I told her that I won't be taking any shots solo that evening so she hesitantly accepted her accompanying shot. As she was raising her shot her sister yelled her name and gave her the look, clearly this chick gets blitzed easily...she took her shot and I took two.
I walked around with a tray and no shirt. Did I mention I was shirtless? I really do feel like a douche bag walking around a party with no shirt on-i really don't love myself enough to be like OHHH YEAH I'm cool with no shirt on. Work is work though and I do what I need to do for the benjamins-baby. So my introductions were sincere and I started taking drink orders.
The crowd had about 35% gay men so I was forced many more shots. The party had an ice luge for shots so I definitely had some facebook worthy shot shots of my partaking in that insanity with the gays and drunken ladies-FUN. I'll be tagged "shirtless boy" or "Randall". Whatever.
So after about an hour my assistants rolled up. One woman in her late 40's with pretty large breasts and a 23 year old chick, a little lady. Did I mention they were topless as well? So we make our introductions and take our obligatory introductory shots...not gonna lie, I could read on the little chick that she was a partier and I thought itd be funny to see her tipsy. She got tipsy alright.
So the party carries on into the sunset and the tips are getting larger. At one point the younger topless chick asks me how much I'm getting tipped because "I've been serving mad drinks and only gotten $3 in tips". I lied and said only a few dollars as well but my pockets were bulging with money. Then as I was leaving she decided to enlighten me.
She told me to listen to her advice. "Listen, if a chick asks you for a soda never ask if she wants diet. I forgot how insecure women can be and if you ask her if she wants diet she'll think you're calling her fat." I thanked her for her words of brilliance and departed the kitchen. Apparently this chick has some sort of a degree and dubbed her job in genetics a "wicked hard job" yet she's still working topless at a pool party she found of craigslist. I'm sorry but I feel its worse for a woman to work topless than for a man to but that's just based on the standards of our society...perhaps that's just my close minded thoughts, shhhh.
More and more shots were consumed and I found myself attempting to be responsible and drink a few bottled waters to maintain my charm for those tips! My 23 year old female topless serving partner was beginning to get noticed by all and I saw her being spoken to by the hostess at the pool so I went over.
Apparently she served someone a vodka when they asked for a water and the hostess was trying to be like, you fucked up. She argued saying that she got the right drink and even if she was wrong she was right. Her rant continued, "I serve parties at fashion week all the time. In fact they always call model bartenders like me for fashion week (cuz I'm so beautiful) and when I serve celebrities they should be happy to even get a drink. It doesn't matter what you give them you just give them a drink and they better be fuckin happy." This is where it got awkward because the woman who originally ordered the drink was right there and this chick was basically saying just drink the fucking vodka even though you ordered a water. Quality mess...I'm not judging though, I've worn those shoes many a time.
So as I was trying to get her mind off of the drink and onto being chill she abruptly stated that she needed to be in the pool and dove right in. She said some drunken statement that I ignored as at this point every sound out of her mouth was a nuisance to fix my hearing to and told her that itd be a great idea to go off the diving board. She enthusiastically agreed! Unfortunately some of the motherly figures at the party disagreed with my suggestion and as she boarded the board she was quickly denied and told to go home. HAH.
With my entertainment gone home it was nearly perfect timing when a woman started rolling a doobie on the kitchen table. I nonchalantly walked over and asked her what she was doing. She offered for my participation and the boring atmosphere got a bit more bearable.
The end of the party consisted of a male stripper swinging (no pun intended) through, my staying an hour later than booked (don't worry I got paid for it), and the larger chested topless woman giving me a ride to the train station. That's it, just a ride! I sloppily made it back into the city and into bed. As I was attempting to pass out my stomach informed me that this was not an option and I made a run for the toilet...story of my life.
Wednesday, August 4, 2010
FORD Models
So two days ago I was complaining to Kirt how it felt as if my modeling career had hit a road block. Boss Models said fashion week is out of the question and the castings continue to be limited and unsuccessful. My extended hours at the gym wear on my endurance and optimism and I need some source of hope, some vision of the light at the end of the tunnel. As I was strolling through Central Park around 4:20 listening to "Shine on you crazy Diamond" I got a text from Kirt asking me to send him some photos.
The first shot I sent him was a terribly terrifying photo I had taken while at the gym on the stationary bicycle earlier that day with a facial pose beautiful enough to be in a porno for those with downs syndrome. After I chuckled over the responding text of "OMG" I continued to send a few photos that were not worthy of killing Medusa. Dear Kirt was sending the photos to a booker at Ford Models who at the conclusion of his delivery asked to meet me. So the next day I was to meet at FORD for 11 am.
As with any other day I started it off with a small bowl of oatmeal and a fat scoop of Nutella ( I know, BAD MODEL ) and then departed for the gym. Worked up a little sweat, pumped the arms up, and then hit the showers to shave my five o'clock shadow away revealing my boyish beauty. My timing was set to be perfect; leave at 10:20, grab a protein shake for energy, and then head south to the agency for a flawless arrival time of 10:57.
Well the protein shake bar was packed and while I was patiently waiting in line it gave me much time to contemplate the shake I would consume. "Berry Blast" or "Peanut butter and Jelly"? What to do?! The customer on deck is ordering and you don't know what you want. SHIT. What am I gonna get?!? I don't want anything too fattening though I do want something uber tasty AND energizing. Wow, this is stressful (I can hear the jeopardy music countdown in the background). "What would you like sir?" I replied...I'll take the Peanut Butter and Jelly with an extra scoop of peanut butter (ItS AU NATURALE) and a scoop of energy protein.
My escape from the gym was later than anticipated so with my shake in hand I hastily made my way to the 6 train and boarded. BEE DOO WE ARE BEING DELAYED DUE TO TRAIN TRAFFIC AHEAD, PLEASE BE PATIENT. Patient? Are you fucking kidding me? I'm about to go to FORD, the world known agency where I was requested to come in to potentially be brought on board and you, you drive subway cars and tell people whom you have no idea of their situation to be patient?!? You're not going to tell a woman who's water broke to be patient so don't tell me to be patient, bitch!
We make it to 59th street and the doors stay open...blaa blaa blaa PLEASE BE PATIENT. This is my chance to transfer to the express train but its all the way down 8 flights of stairs and what if I'm waiting forever? What if I fall down the stairs and smash my face in ruining my modeling career?! What if I spill my protein shake?!?! Before I could finish my legitimate concerns I was sprinting down the stairs, passengers started leisurely riding the escalator in my opposite direction so I knew a train was at the station, DOUBLE TIME! Maneuvering through the last patrons on the train I squeeze through the closing doors and take a deep breath of air conditioned satisfaction, I had made the express train.
I walked into Ford at 11:03 and patiently awaited my potential new booker. She showed me around the agency and brought me into an unused room where my book was reviewed. "Well you've got an interesting look. How tall are you?" I was measured, introduced to all the bookers, and then had some photos taken. My phone number was written down and I was informed that I would get a call this week. I left the agency with an uncertainty that did not bother me. My decision was to take the much repeated advice of various peoples close to me "be patient" and see if my phone would ring over the next few days.
I walked down to the pier where I go to contemplate and fortunately I was the only one there. While I was admiring the beauty of the Hudson my phone rang, AHHHHHH, its FORD asking me to sign a multi million dollar contract and they want to send me to Milan, Paris, and Tokyo tonight-or so I dreamed. It was a man named Ron who was looking for an assistant in his loft bed business.
This was one of my random finds on craigslist. Loft bed designer and creator seeking assistant to learn the trade and work alongside with. I figured itd take me to interesting spaces in the city, teach me some handyman skills, and be a hell of a lot better than dancing around in Abercrombie & Fitch for hours making shit money. I was interrogated to assure the man on the other end that I was not a crackhead and truly who I said I was in the introductory email I had sent. Then he asked if i were free later that afternoon to start working for him. I told him that I had a casting but that it was not as significant as working for him and that I'd forget the casting to work with him.
We met in Williamsburg and he was not exactly whom I was expecting to see show up. An older man in his 60's, short, and slightly overweight. I suppose I expected to see some young entrepreneur carpenter type, whatever.
I learned quickly that he enjoys smoking cigarettes often and he's full of conversation. We had the lumber delivered to the site and hauled it to the elevator then the clients apartment. Construction had begun!
Not too far into the work we took our dinner break. You know you've got a good boss when he pays you while you eat and also pays for the meal! We had barbecue meats and a coke-not very model conscious but it was better than getting the deli food from the corner store. Dinner concluded and we finished up the loft bed. By the time we had ended I was handing him whatever he needed and was virtually one step ahead of him proving that I was catching on to the blatantly simple process.
7 hours logged and I earned $100, dinner, and a secure spot on future jobs with the old fellow. LEGIT. After a long day and night I decided to cut sleep short and hit the gym for an early session prior to my fitting-good idea fat ass!
The first shot I sent him was a terribly terrifying photo I had taken while at the gym on the stationary bicycle earlier that day with a facial pose beautiful enough to be in a porno for those with downs syndrome. After I chuckled over the responding text of "OMG" I continued to send a few photos that were not worthy of killing Medusa. Dear Kirt was sending the photos to a booker at Ford Models who at the conclusion of his delivery asked to meet me. So the next day I was to meet at FORD for 11 am.
As with any other day I started it off with a small bowl of oatmeal and a fat scoop of Nutella ( I know, BAD MODEL ) and then departed for the gym. Worked up a little sweat, pumped the arms up, and then hit the showers to shave my five o'clock shadow away revealing my boyish beauty. My timing was set to be perfect; leave at 10:20, grab a protein shake for energy, and then head south to the agency for a flawless arrival time of 10:57.
Well the protein shake bar was packed and while I was patiently waiting in line it gave me much time to contemplate the shake I would consume. "Berry Blast" or "Peanut butter and Jelly"? What to do?! The customer on deck is ordering and you don't know what you want. SHIT. What am I gonna get?!? I don't want anything too fattening though I do want something uber tasty AND energizing. Wow, this is stressful (I can hear the jeopardy music countdown in the background). "What would you like sir?" I replied...I'll take the Peanut Butter and Jelly with an extra scoop of peanut butter (ItS AU NATURALE) and a scoop of energy protein.
My escape from the gym was later than anticipated so with my shake in hand I hastily made my way to the 6 train and boarded. BEE DOO WE ARE BEING DELAYED DUE TO TRAIN TRAFFIC AHEAD, PLEASE BE PATIENT. Patient? Are you fucking kidding me? I'm about to go to FORD, the world known agency where I was requested to come in to potentially be brought on board and you, you drive subway cars and tell people whom you have no idea of their situation to be patient?!? You're not going to tell a woman who's water broke to be patient so don't tell me to be patient, bitch!
We make it to 59th street and the doors stay open...blaa blaa blaa PLEASE BE PATIENT. This is my chance to transfer to the express train but its all the way down 8 flights of stairs and what if I'm waiting forever? What if I fall down the stairs and smash my face in ruining my modeling career?! What if I spill my protein shake?!?! Before I could finish my legitimate concerns I was sprinting down the stairs, passengers started leisurely riding the escalator in my opposite direction so I knew a train was at the station, DOUBLE TIME! Maneuvering through the last patrons on the train I squeeze through the closing doors and take a deep breath of air conditioned satisfaction, I had made the express train.
I walked into Ford at 11:03 and patiently awaited my potential new booker. She showed me around the agency and brought me into an unused room where my book was reviewed. "Well you've got an interesting look. How tall are you?" I was measured, introduced to all the bookers, and then had some photos taken. My phone number was written down and I was informed that I would get a call this week. I left the agency with an uncertainty that did not bother me. My decision was to take the much repeated advice of various peoples close to me "be patient" and see if my phone would ring over the next few days.
I walked down to the pier where I go to contemplate and fortunately I was the only one there. While I was admiring the beauty of the Hudson my phone rang, AHHHHHH, its FORD asking me to sign a multi million dollar contract and they want to send me to Milan, Paris, and Tokyo tonight-or so I dreamed. It was a man named Ron who was looking for an assistant in his loft bed business.
This was one of my random finds on craigslist. Loft bed designer and creator seeking assistant to learn the trade and work alongside with. I figured itd take me to interesting spaces in the city, teach me some handyman skills, and be a hell of a lot better than dancing around in Abercrombie & Fitch for hours making shit money. I was interrogated to assure the man on the other end that I was not a crackhead and truly who I said I was in the introductory email I had sent. Then he asked if i were free later that afternoon to start working for him. I told him that I had a casting but that it was not as significant as working for him and that I'd forget the casting to work with him.
We met in Williamsburg and he was not exactly whom I was expecting to see show up. An older man in his 60's, short, and slightly overweight. I suppose I expected to see some young entrepreneur carpenter type, whatever.
I learned quickly that he enjoys smoking cigarettes often and he's full of conversation. We had the lumber delivered to the site and hauled it to the elevator then the clients apartment. Construction had begun!
Not too far into the work we took our dinner break. You know you've got a good boss when he pays you while you eat and also pays for the meal! We had barbecue meats and a coke-not very model conscious but it was better than getting the deli food from the corner store. Dinner concluded and we finished up the loft bed. By the time we had ended I was handing him whatever he needed and was virtually one step ahead of him proving that I was catching on to the blatantly simple process.
7 hours logged and I earned $100, dinner, and a secure spot on future jobs with the old fellow. LEGIT. After a long day and night I decided to cut sleep short and hit the gym for an early session prior to my fitting-good idea fat ass!
Thursday, July 29, 2010
Shirtless bartender at the gay 5th ave party
Knock on wood, the work continues to pour in. Yesterday delivered quite the variety of events. It all started with the daily few hours at the gym which was nice. Put in a solid hour and a half on the stationary bike and banged out mad reps of low weights.
I've quenched my agencys thirst to have me increase my muscle which is honestly a satisfying feat. It's been said that once you've acquired the necessary muscle to drop the weights in half and increase the reps. I don't enjoy moderation so in between my shoulder exercises I do 100 curls of 10 pound weights for the biceps. I;m starting to thrive from that burn I get when i push myself. I;m never sore the next day though so I imagine its not too damaging.
The steam room enticed me before the shower and it was a pleasurable experience shower followed suit. With the work out completed I rewarded myself with an ounce and a half of almonds and a half water and half liquid protein mix-lovely. Then made my way to the other gym I'm fortunate enough to have access to and had a photo shoot for their marketing paraphernalia.
The make up artist, director of the shoot, and other "model" I was working with were all very gay and very lovely to work with. Next week I'll be working with them again for some new images to boost my book. Oh joy! I love networking in this city because it boosts my chances of meeting those random important or valuable people. After the shenannigans are the gym I wandered down 8th avenue to pick up a protein bar and then to my first casting.
The casting was for a jewelry designer who is shooting a video for television. Not so sure on the specifics but long story short they were selecting a male and female and I ended up being the selected male model. Earlier that day I emailed the agency-Big Boss-and asked if they had any castings for me. They emailed me the same info for the casting which I had found on my own for this jewelry designer. I figured by allowing the agency to take credit for it rather than my saying oh never mind I already found that, it would show them that I can actually book work and potentially make them want to push me for fashion week.
The other day I went to the agency and told my booker Florian that I "really really want to be in fashion week". He said that my book was too young and I needed more work done, I did not like this response. I moved to nyc just before last seasons fashion week and now its time to dive in head first. I've got one confirmed show for fashion week, presentation rather. I want more! So I gave Boss this shoot for a few reasons, secondly to see how they will be about paying me. It's all a game and I'm testing them.
So after the casting I made my way to the party where I was booked to be the shirtless bartender. When I enter the elevator and press the top button, floor 17, I wasn't sure what to expect when the doors opened. I found this gig through craigslist and it stated that they wanted a shirtless bartender for the gay party in a penthouse apartment. Was I going to see rainbow flags and guys prancing around in sailor outfits or was I to be kidnapped by men in black leather bondage gear and submitted to the underground sex slave world? The scenario was much more tame than my fears were amassing to. Orange pants, button down shirt, and that kind gay smile..."I'm Ron".
We went over how the drinks were to be served and how the host wished for the bar to look then waited for the guests to show. Most of the attendees were humorously interesting gays. One of my favorites was Andy the porn producer. "Gay porn, straight porn, and solo porn." was the intro to his pitch to get me to enlist. Nonchalantly throughout the night I could observe his desperation in breaking my "no"s to his enlistment requests. He could not succeed in acquiring a new porn star from the party so he was forced to accept the next best thing, the potential of a new straight friend whom he would always wish to be his new star.
I consumed beverages and the guests consumed massive amounts of liquor. I conversed with interesting people, told them of my wild craigslist adventures, and got a few business cards to continue communication at a later point. Extended communication has yet to occur though perhaps boredom will lead me to the dialing of a few numbers down the road. I got tipped out well and the host paid me in cash so I left there with a nice wad in my pocket. Too bad I was so drunk that I blew all my money at the strip club on the way home, just kidding.
I retired late and woke up late the next day to hit the gym again...chilled with an old friend from catering and await tomorrows unpredictable outcome.
Night. Night.
I've quenched my agencys thirst to have me increase my muscle which is honestly a satisfying feat. It's been said that once you've acquired the necessary muscle to drop the weights in half and increase the reps. I don't enjoy moderation so in between my shoulder exercises I do 100 curls of 10 pound weights for the biceps. I;m starting to thrive from that burn I get when i push myself. I;m never sore the next day though so I imagine its not too damaging.
The steam room enticed me before the shower and it was a pleasurable experience shower followed suit. With the work out completed I rewarded myself with an ounce and a half of almonds and a half water and half liquid protein mix-lovely. Then made my way to the other gym I'm fortunate enough to have access to and had a photo shoot for their marketing paraphernalia.
The make up artist, director of the shoot, and other "model" I was working with were all very gay and very lovely to work with. Next week I'll be working with them again for some new images to boost my book. Oh joy! I love networking in this city because it boosts my chances of meeting those random important or valuable people. After the shenannigans are the gym I wandered down 8th avenue to pick up a protein bar and then to my first casting.
The casting was for a jewelry designer who is shooting a video for television. Not so sure on the specifics but long story short they were selecting a male and female and I ended up being the selected male model. Earlier that day I emailed the agency-Big Boss-and asked if they had any castings for me. They emailed me the same info for the casting which I had found on my own for this jewelry designer. I figured by allowing the agency to take credit for it rather than my saying oh never mind I already found that, it would show them that I can actually book work and potentially make them want to push me for fashion week.
The other day I went to the agency and told my booker Florian that I "really really want to be in fashion week". He said that my book was too young and I needed more work done, I did not like this response. I moved to nyc just before last seasons fashion week and now its time to dive in head first. I've got one confirmed show for fashion week, presentation rather. I want more! So I gave Boss this shoot for a few reasons, secondly to see how they will be about paying me. It's all a game and I'm testing them.
So after the casting I made my way to the party where I was booked to be the shirtless bartender. When I enter the elevator and press the top button, floor 17, I wasn't sure what to expect when the doors opened. I found this gig through craigslist and it stated that they wanted a shirtless bartender for the gay party in a penthouse apartment. Was I going to see rainbow flags and guys prancing around in sailor outfits or was I to be kidnapped by men in black leather bondage gear and submitted to the underground sex slave world? The scenario was much more tame than my fears were amassing to. Orange pants, button down shirt, and that kind gay smile..."I'm Ron".
We went over how the drinks were to be served and how the host wished for the bar to look then waited for the guests to show. Most of the attendees were humorously interesting gays. One of my favorites was Andy the porn producer. "Gay porn, straight porn, and solo porn." was the intro to his pitch to get me to enlist. Nonchalantly throughout the night I could observe his desperation in breaking my "no"s to his enlistment requests. He could not succeed in acquiring a new porn star from the party so he was forced to accept the next best thing, the potential of a new straight friend whom he would always wish to be his new star.
I consumed beverages and the guests consumed massive amounts of liquor. I conversed with interesting people, told them of my wild craigslist adventures, and got a few business cards to continue communication at a later point. Extended communication has yet to occur though perhaps boredom will lead me to the dialing of a few numbers down the road. I got tipped out well and the host paid me in cash so I left there with a nice wad in my pocket. Too bad I was so drunk that I blew all my money at the strip club on the way home, just kidding.
I retired late and woke up late the next day to hit the gym again...chilled with an old friend from catering and await tomorrows unpredictable outcome.
Night. Night.
Tuesday, July 27, 2010
Boston
So I visited Boston for a day. There was a promo that I was to participate in for 3 weeks. Before I could start I came to a realization. A brutal truth with its positives and negatives, nothing uncommon as that's life-plain and simple.
I did my daily gym routine and set off for Megabus's 31st and 8th loading rendezvous. Twas a hot and sunny day yet I still plopped my hiking pack stuffed with dirty clothes (to be washed at good ol' gramma Pats house) directly in the sun to await the arrival of my undesired method of transportation, a double decker bus. To no surprise the bus was late and the whole populous of bus seekers was herded away from the original waiting area due to some "delegates" arriving.
After significant sweat stains and what would be a solid tan had I not covered myself in 70 spf sunscreen the 30 minutes prior after my shower at the gym, my mega bus arrived. I had never been on a double decker bus in the states so I made it a point to experience the ride to its fullest potential. Front row on the second floor, YEAEAH BABY.
As we waited for everyone to settle their luggage into the depths of the bus's behind I settled into my seat and discovered that the power outlet had a cover which prevented my oversized BB charger to be inserted-quality. None the less I did not less this dull my excitement for the roller coaster, I mean long ass ride to come. Think about it...Flying down the highway at 60 miles per hour with your face pressed against the front window 10 feet high like a childs face pressed against the doors to Toys R Us prior to their birthday or a gift receiving holiday, I felt like buzz light year queuing up for flight.
Life has delivered me its share of anticlimactic experiences but this wasn't one of them. I strive to make the best out of any scenario and it was relatively entertaining, stimulating rather than staring at the back of another bus seat though I couldn't get myself to stand up and say "to infinity and beyond!"
My arrival to Boston was simple; I purchased some McDonalds (I know, bad model), got two T passes to grammas location, and carried on to meet her. She kindly met me at the stop 30 minutes out of the city and we carried on to dinner. Chicken with a cranberry sauce and some sweet potato roll things is pretty ridic when you're starving though I couldn't get myself to finish the plate.
We went back to the abode and took some digitals for a new modeling abroad prospect then watched some television and discussed the plan for the next few weeks of promotions. G Ma retired to bed and I found myself folding the now clean clothes I had dragged all the way from NYC. Woke up around 2 am in the chair with the telly on and headed up to bed...it was so foreign to sleep in a quality bed.
I woke up to my Grandmother popping her head into my room saying "Randddyyyyy its 7:20". The plan was to have breakfast at 7:30 so I exuded from my covers and slothily wandered downstairs. Surprise...no, I remembered of my chicken left overs and combined them with the eggs and toast G ma had made me. A solid start to the first day of a long promotion.
Twas a beautiful day in Boston and I had arrived 45 minutes prior to when the team was supposed to report in. I found myself staring at some flowers in a park when my phone rang. "Can you make it to Astoria for a catalog shoot at 11?" My manager asked. I informed him that I was in Boston and his response though simple really had an impact, "Fuck, ok bye".
The simple but powerful reply my phone had delivered to my ear was as influential as a hunters bullet piercing the skull of a tiger who stepped right into the cross hairs. I fucked up. When I went to Miami for my buddy's wedding I missed out on multiple opportunities for modeling but I was so drunk that it didn't really set in. With my clear minded thoughts the reality that if I want to model in NY I must stay in NY flooded my head...30 minutes later I was on a bus back to the city.
Happiness is a foreign thing to me though I wouldn't say I'm depressed merely discontent. I wake up everyday with the hope that I'll get a phone call or email from someone I've poured my efforts or product of my efforts into telling me that they want to use me for a project which will either jump start my career or fill my wallet. Will I fall into the extremely low percentage of people in the world who find success in modeling? Will I be able to pay rent and eat because I keep my schedule open with the thought that I'll need to fill it with a paying photoshoot? My path in life is currently full of insecurities but I suppose the thought of not knowing I will succeed makes it a great adventure and that actually makes me smile.
I did my daily gym routine and set off for Megabus's 31st and 8th loading rendezvous. Twas a hot and sunny day yet I still plopped my hiking pack stuffed with dirty clothes (to be washed at good ol' gramma Pats house) directly in the sun to await the arrival of my undesired method of transportation, a double decker bus. To no surprise the bus was late and the whole populous of bus seekers was herded away from the original waiting area due to some "delegates" arriving.
After significant sweat stains and what would be a solid tan had I not covered myself in 70 spf sunscreen the 30 minutes prior after my shower at the gym, my mega bus arrived. I had never been on a double decker bus in the states so I made it a point to experience the ride to its fullest potential. Front row on the second floor, YEAEAH BABY.
As we waited for everyone to settle their luggage into the depths of the bus's behind I settled into my seat and discovered that the power outlet had a cover which prevented my oversized BB charger to be inserted-quality. None the less I did not less this dull my excitement for the roller coaster, I mean long ass ride to come. Think about it...Flying down the highway at 60 miles per hour with your face pressed against the front window 10 feet high like a childs face pressed against the doors to Toys R Us prior to their birthday or a gift receiving holiday, I felt like buzz light year queuing up for flight.
Life has delivered me its share of anticlimactic experiences but this wasn't one of them. I strive to make the best out of any scenario and it was relatively entertaining, stimulating rather than staring at the back of another bus seat though I couldn't get myself to stand up and say "to infinity and beyond!"
My arrival to Boston was simple; I purchased some McDonalds (I know, bad model), got two T passes to grammas location, and carried on to meet her. She kindly met me at the stop 30 minutes out of the city and we carried on to dinner. Chicken with a cranberry sauce and some sweet potato roll things is pretty ridic when you're starving though I couldn't get myself to finish the plate.
We went back to the abode and took some digitals for a new modeling abroad prospect then watched some television and discussed the plan for the next few weeks of promotions. G Ma retired to bed and I found myself folding the now clean clothes I had dragged all the way from NYC. Woke up around 2 am in the chair with the telly on and headed up to bed...it was so foreign to sleep in a quality bed.
I woke up to my Grandmother popping her head into my room saying "Randddyyyyy its 7:20". The plan was to have breakfast at 7:30 so I exuded from my covers and slothily wandered downstairs. Surprise...no, I remembered of my chicken left overs and combined them with the eggs and toast G ma had made me. A solid start to the first day of a long promotion.
Twas a beautiful day in Boston and I had arrived 45 minutes prior to when the team was supposed to report in. I found myself staring at some flowers in a park when my phone rang. "Can you make it to Astoria for a catalog shoot at 11?" My manager asked. I informed him that I was in Boston and his response though simple really had an impact, "Fuck, ok bye".
The simple but powerful reply my phone had delivered to my ear was as influential as a hunters bullet piercing the skull of a tiger who stepped right into the cross hairs. I fucked up. When I went to Miami for my buddy's wedding I missed out on multiple opportunities for modeling but I was so drunk that it didn't really set in. With my clear minded thoughts the reality that if I want to model in NY I must stay in NY flooded my head...30 minutes later I was on a bus back to the city.
Happiness is a foreign thing to me though I wouldn't say I'm depressed merely discontent. I wake up everyday with the hope that I'll get a phone call or email from someone I've poured my efforts or product of my efforts into telling me that they want to use me for a project which will either jump start my career or fill my wallet. Will I fall into the extremely low percentage of people in the world who find success in modeling? Will I be able to pay rent and eat because I keep my schedule open with the thought that I'll need to fill it with a paying photoshoot? My path in life is currently full of insecurities but I suppose the thought of not knowing I will succeed makes it a great adventure and that actually makes me smile.
Wednesday, July 21, 2010
So its been 5 months...
What can I say? Commitment isn't my forte...sorry I've neglected you for 5 months mister blog or shall I say, Rupert?!?
Since we've last chatted much has occurred and I feel it necessary to update you on my NYC situation.
First and foremost, I've lost weight. I know you were always nagging me about eating pizza and drinking all those tasty coffees from mud but now you can't say shit! I've slimmed down, toned up, and popped out some abs getting me the attention of Boss Models. THAT'S RIGHT, I'm a BOSS boy now :)
In retrospect i am full of remorse due to my lack of keeping a log of all my catering adventures. Many late nights of underpaid, under appreciated, BITCH work and now I am left with two caterers who hire me only when absolutely desperate or when the client requests a person with my aesthetic nature. Fuck em...Now I dance around abercrombie and fitch for 9 dollars an hour getting high off of the womens perfume they spray endlessly as if it were oxygen and we were in a space world.
Getting hired at Abercrombie was a bit of a joke. The interview was a group interview and besides some chick from Jersey, I was the only American there. Nothing wrong with not being American though if you can't speak a language how the fuck are you supposed to help customers. With respect though most of our customers are foreigners so it does make sense......I'm not buying it though, guaranteed those kids wont last longer than a month though who am I to judge, not sure I will either! Literally 20 minutes after the interview I got a phone call..."uhhhmm yes Mister Harris we'd love to have you join our team here at A&F"....shit Abercrombie is now the epitome of desperation in my book. I tried everything...besides stripping...and now I must resort to working in douche bagville to barely make an income.
The interviewer asked a few douchey questions but my favorite was, " describe the brand in two words, and you cant repeat what the others have said or you'll have to dance in front of everyone ( a true douche move)". Seeing how I was the only English informed one there, I was told to go last. The folks were saying shit like "sexy, stylish, modern, hot, hip, BLAA BLAA BLAA". No lie, first thing that popped in my head was the two words DOUCHE BAG....now I can't get it out of my head. Everyone there is a douche bag...Not really but in such a douchey environment of such a douchey brand I really need to find humor in whatever way necessary, even if its in lying to myself. I know, pathetic..but what else can you say about working at A&F-PATHETIC...oh and DOUCHE BAG.
Alright.
Being with Boss has only given me a few tests which have given me some high fashion esque photos, whatever...hasn't gotten me any money or any travel and that's all I want! So now I'm just emailing as many photographers, designers, stylists, and people related in any form to the fashion industry as possible in hopes of networking my way to success or at least the next level. Traveling abroad is a temptation, tapping into the asian market sounds fun but I don't want to neglect New York just yet. So many decisions must be made while the pressures of living in New York continue to exude on the daily. Its fun in a stressful way. Whether I win or lose it'll be something to look back on and say, DAMN SON.
Since we've last chatted much has occurred and I feel it necessary to update you on my NYC situation.
First and foremost, I've lost weight. I know you were always nagging me about eating pizza and drinking all those tasty coffees from mud but now you can't say shit! I've slimmed down, toned up, and popped out some abs getting me the attention of Boss Models. THAT'S RIGHT, I'm a BOSS boy now :)
In retrospect i am full of remorse due to my lack of keeping a log of all my catering adventures. Many late nights of underpaid, under appreciated, BITCH work and now I am left with two caterers who hire me only when absolutely desperate or when the client requests a person with my aesthetic nature. Fuck em...Now I dance around abercrombie and fitch for 9 dollars an hour getting high off of the womens perfume they spray endlessly as if it were oxygen and we were in a space world.
Getting hired at Abercrombie was a bit of a joke. The interview was a group interview and besides some chick from Jersey, I was the only American there. Nothing wrong with not being American though if you can't speak a language how the fuck are you supposed to help customers. With respect though most of our customers are foreigners so it does make sense......I'm not buying it though, guaranteed those kids wont last longer than a month though who am I to judge, not sure I will either! Literally 20 minutes after the interview I got a phone call..."uhhhmm yes Mister Harris we'd love to have you join our team here at A&F"....shit Abercrombie is now the epitome of desperation in my book. I tried everything...besides stripping...and now I must resort to working in douche bagville to barely make an income.
The interviewer asked a few douchey questions but my favorite was, " describe the brand in two words, and you cant repeat what the others have said or you'll have to dance in front of everyone ( a true douche move)". Seeing how I was the only English informed one there, I was told to go last. The folks were saying shit like "sexy, stylish, modern, hot, hip, BLAA BLAA BLAA". No lie, first thing that popped in my head was the two words DOUCHE BAG....now I can't get it out of my head. Everyone there is a douche bag...Not really but in such a douchey environment of such a douchey brand I really need to find humor in whatever way necessary, even if its in lying to myself. I know, pathetic..but what else can you say about working at A&F-PATHETIC...oh and DOUCHE BAG.
Alright.
Being with Boss has only given me a few tests which have given me some high fashion esque photos, whatever...hasn't gotten me any money or any travel and that's all I want! So now I'm just emailing as many photographers, designers, stylists, and people related in any form to the fashion industry as possible in hopes of networking my way to success or at least the next level. Traveling abroad is a temptation, tapping into the asian market sounds fun but I don't want to neglect New York just yet. So many decisions must be made while the pressures of living in New York continue to exude on the daily. Its fun in a stressful way. Whether I win or lose it'll be something to look back on and say, DAMN SON.
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