February 28, 2015


Hi everybody. Hey, it’s the last day of February. Can you believe it? Welcome to another week of traumatic brain injury recovery. Welcome to the blog where I talk about the past. I’m gonna call this blog “Three Gendarmes, The Big One, and The Beverly Wilshire Hotel.” Now, I know what you sick puppies are thinking about and it has nothing to do with that.

Let’s start with The Three Gendarmes. When I lived in Paris I sub-rented an apartment from a friend of mine. It was a cool place but way way upstairs. Like an eight floor walk up. No elevator. I was sleeping one morning when the doorbell rang. I said, “Who is it?” Because I had an intercom. The reply was, “It is the Police.” Well, I let them in, of course. They finally made it into my small apartment. There were three gendarmes. Three people from housing and three other people I didn’t know about. And of course there was myself and my ex wife. The room was about, I don’t know, 15X20. Very small. We were all awkwardly standing there looking at each other and I said, “What’s up you guys?” And they explained to me that the rent hasn’t been paid in about six months. Apparently there was a rent increase and my friend didn’t know about it. The old rent was automatically deducted from his account and the rent I paid into his account wasn’t credited properly. It was basically a huge mess up. What a nightmare. Anyway, they came to evict me. A woman stepped forward and explained to me the situation and she whipped out a clip board and said, “Now I will take inventory.” I guess they were gonna take possession of all the beautiful furnishings I had. She looked around and she started with the mattress on the floor. She said and wrote down, “One old mattress.” Then she looked around and turned around and saw a really old table behind her. She said, “One old table and one old chair.” And then she saw the old T V on the floor that was only black and white (oh, yeah, the tv I learned french on by watching old Magnum PI reruns). She said, “One old TV.” And that was it. They all looked at each other and they looked at me, and they must have felt sorry for me because they all left, and the woman said, “Tell your friend about the rent increase,” and left. It was all bizarre.

Now let’s talk about The Big One. When there is a Bermuda low pressure storm system it pushes huge waves towards Montauk, and creates offshore winds. What I’m saying is a Bermuda low produces some amazing waves. But the only problem is they are huge. I heard my local friends talk about the wave and I grabbed my board and my friend and went down to the beach. It was all what they say, closed out. You couldn’t surf at my local spot. It was too big so we went to another spot. I took out my board and I was thinking to myself, “Man, it looks pretty big. I wonder if it’s safe.” And just then, on cue, a guy walked past me with a broken nose and blood all over his head. He said, “Man, it’s big out there.” So, like the young idiot I was, I decided to paddle out. Now, when it’s this big, you get some dangerous shore breaks, so you have to paddle out when there’s a lull in the waves, and I mean paddle fast. OK, I’m gonna tell you a short story within this story. I gotta tell you a surfing story. I remember when it was big once, I was paddling out really fast and I looked to my right and one of my friends was paddling fast as well, The waves were huge. Anyway, I looked at the horizon and said, “Oh shit, we better haul ass, look it’s coming.” We paddled fast. He was a little behind me. Then, all of a sudden the big one jacked up and I managed to break through the wave. Now imagine the scene in The Perfect Storm when the boats try to make it up the wave. I made it, but my friend didn’t. I heard the words, “Oh shit!” and he did what’s called “going over the falls.” He got thrown backwards and dropped I don’t know, 20 feet into the turbulent whitewater. Next thing I know I see him getting washed up on the shore. He was all right, but he was pretty beaten up. Now, where was I? oh yeah, going back to paddling out fast. I made it to what they call the line up. I made it to the deep water where I waited for my ride. A big one showed up and I rode the most amazing wave ever, right back to shore where I managed to get in safely, got in my car and went home. It was a one ride day. Like my friend here says, see, I’m not such a young idiot. You gotta know your limits.

The next story took place at the Beverly Wilhsire Hotel. You know, as a photographer, I was never what you call an A list photographer. I was maybe B list or C. I’d still work all the time but I was never a top top photographer. But in the ’80s I worked for plenty of guys who were A list. I remember one time I was working for a guy. We got flown to LA to do a 4 page shoot. This is when magazines had good money. Anyway, we got to the hotel and decided we should get room service. Well, since the main photographer had a big suite, we decided to have dinner in his room, his suite. We were in there waiting for food that we ordered and a waiter showed up with a beautiful table. He set it up with a white table cloth, beautiful china, silverware and candelabra and flowers. Another guy came in and made us a cesar salad and another guy showed up and served us amazing wine, and then another guy showed up with our dinner. It was amazing. We had a great dinner along with an amazing dessert followed by a glass of brandy. I was pretty ripped. Anyway, I decided that I should go out and get some water and some beers for the next day. I remembered there was a convenience store down the block. Now this is about 2 am in Beverly Hills. Well, I looked around. There were no cars. No one. It was deserted. I ran across the street and all of a sudden a police car shows up out of nowhere. He stops, makes me get on the curb and says, “Can I see your id please, ” as he shined his flashlight on my face. I gave him my driver’s license and he said, “New York, huh?” I said, “Where did you come from? You appeared out of no where.” He said, “Be quiet sir, and stand up on the curb.” Well, the guy gave me a summons. It kind of ruined my night, but just another moment in the life of Brian Nice..

That’s about it for this week. I’ll give you my link to my blog where I talk about the present. This is B. Nice signing off. Hey! Check it out! My daughter is coming to visit me next week. Pretty cool. Love you guys. Love, B. Nice

February 20, 2015


Hi you guys. Welcome to my blog where I talk about my past. It’s a blog where I think about things when I was on my back.

The cool thing about living in Australia was I got to go to some amazing locations. I think I talked about this before but some of the islands off of Australia were amazing. Like the Whit Sunday Islands. Rottenest Island off of Perth. Lizard Island off of Queensland. Norfolk Island. It’s call Norfolk but I called it No Fuck Island, because there’s no fucking way I’d go back there again. Sorry you guys, but it’s kind of true. Sorry anybody out there who’s associated with tourism to this island. Anyway, the point is, I went to some great locations you would not normally go to.

You know, I used to drink right, a little bit. So, one time I was working with this English fashion magazine. We got done working and the editor wanted to have a drink so she made up her favorite drink and gave one to me. It was red bull and vodka. I’d never had that before. Well, I had about 4 of them. What happens to a person when they drink 4 red bulls and vodka? They go to karaoke. Yeah, that’s right, one time I went to a karaoke bar where I had more red bulls and vodka. Next thing you know, I’m on stage slaughtering a song. My singing is terrible. Anyway, there was one particular group of people that didn’t approve of my singing. They were a bunch of Asian men wearing suits. They were all paying attention to one guy in particular. They took their karaoke very seriously. The vibes coming from them were so intense I stopped mid-song and sat down. I was having a good time up until then. I think they wanted to kick my ass. So the moral of the story is: don’t drink too many red bulls and vodka and go to a karaoke bar. Oh yeah, I’m pretty sure those guys in their suits were mafia.

You know, I lived there in Australia for about 12 years. I really miss it. It was a great place to start photography. I don’t know how the kids do it nowadays, you know, starting out. It’s gotta be tough. I remember, I used to shoot like 2 editorial dories a week. It was a great place to start out. One thing I really regret is I had a chance to buy a small house on a peninsula overlooking the ocean. My wife and I almost did it. We almost bought it but we didn’t.  It would have been a great place to go back to. Anyway, I’m done reminiscing. These are all things I thought about while I was in the hospital with my traumatic brain injury.  It’s freezing here right now. I’m thinking of some more warm stories to tell you next week.

This is B. Nice signing off, from Ice Station Zebra. Have a good week. Love, B. Nice

Here’s my blog about the present.

February 17, 2015


Hi everybody. I was gonna blog with you on the 14th, but there was so much snow, we had to cancel. I’ll, therefore, tell you a story today. It’ll be short.

OK, so check this out. I had a french girlfriend who was an actress living in Paris a while back. I lived in New York City. We were talking over the phone and we decided it would be romantic if I were to come over to Paris. Well, we decided to meet at our favorite cafe on February 14th, you know, Valentine’s day. While I hopped on an overnight flight on February 13th, I arrived in France on the morning of February 14th. I proceeded to our favorite cafe. I sat down with a box of chocolates I brought for her and ordered a baguette of french bread, butter and coffee. She wasn’t there so I ordered another french bread, butter and coffee. Some time went by. She didn’t show up so I ordered another french bread, butter and coffee. Mind you, this is before cell phones. It got to be early lunch so I ordered a croque Monsieur and a beer. She still didn’t show up, so I ordered another croque Monsieur and beer. She still wasn’t there. My patience was running out so I asked the waiter if I could use the cafe telephone. There was no answer at her number so I sat down, ordered another croque monsieur and beer. I then tried calling her again. I woke her up. She sounded a little confused. She said, “What day is it? What time is it? Where are you?” After a brief argumentative moment in french I realized I’d gotten stood up and decided it would be best if I went back to New York. So I ate all of her chocolates, had another beer and caught the next flight back to New York. How’s that for a Valentine’s story. Hope you had a better one than that. Oh, and by the way, if you happen to be dating a french actress, good luck.

This is B. Nice signing off from Ice Station Zebra. Love, B. Nice

Don’t forget about my blog to the present.

February 6, 2015


Hi everybody. Welcome to the blog where I talk about the past.

You know the people I used to work with were like my family. I got real close to them. Maybe too close. One time I was shooting. The art director was standing next to me. I stopped shooting to change rolls of film. I stretched, took a big yawn, turned around and the woman that was on our crew was sitting on the steps right behind me. She was wearing a nice sun dress and nothing else. She was going commando. I finished stretching, turned around, cleared my throat and said to the art director next to me, “Hey Jane, why don’t we shoot on the steps behind me for the next shot.” And Jane turned around and screamed, “Oh my God!” covered her eyes and fell to the ground, and screamed “Oh my God!” again. I thought it was a bit dramatic. I think the woman behind me caught on and she crossed her legs. We did do the next shot there but the whole feeling was a bit different. Oh by the way, it was a bit of a shock.

The next story took place in Miami, you know, South Beach. It was a real tacky Miami Beach house full of glass and marble. Anyway, I finished my breakfast and the husband of the house left with his brief case. He got in his mid-life crisis sports car and took off. The wife of the house was doing dishes in the house. The sink was in a bay window overlooking the pool. (Now things get a bit interesting here. I think I was on the set of a porno movie.) Going back to the woman doing the dishes overlooking the pool: the pool boy shows up. He’s wearing the shortest and tightest shorts I’ve ever seen on a man. He was wearing the shorts and nothing else. He might have been going commando. She was washing the dishes and gave him a coy smile. He was brushing the side of the pool with a long pole and gave her a cocky smile and nodded his head. It was a classic moment. I can’t imagine what happened when we left. Wait! I can imagine what happened when we left because he was still there cleaning the pool. I wonder what else he cleaned.

It was always interesting going on location. You never knew where you would end up. You would always get a slice of people’s lives. One time, another time, I was shooting at a home and the homeowner was a Hollywood-type woman, a producer. Anyway, after I got done shooting she offered me a beer and I said, “Sure, why not.” So I had a beer, and mind you, she’s single. About 55 or so and very hungry, if you know what I mean. Anyway, I had my beer quickly and this dude shows up. He’s about, I don’t know, 25. He looks at me like – “Don’t mess with my territory, man,” and starts giving me a hard time. I quickly left.

I think I told you about some other location stories in some previous blogs. You know, there was that one time when that big dildo fell off the bed. The time we messed with the woman’s house who was obsessive compulsive. The time I almost got killed by a stereo. Go back and check it out. I have lots of stories. I’ll tell you one mre.

One time I was shooting in this small town outside of LA. I hated shooting there. Anyway, I was shooting, and mind you, I like to shoot spontaneously, you know, follow the light. I went up to the next corner because I saw some nice light. Well, as I’m starting to shoot, my phone rings. I stop the shoot. I answer the phone. I hear, “Brian Nice?” I say, “Yes.” A woman says, “You’re on the wrong corner.” It kind of freaked me out. I said, “What?” The woman said, “You’re supposed to be one block south.” It felt like Big Brother was watching me.

I’m gonna leave it at that for now. I’ll include a few cartoons I used to draw. I can’t draw like this anymore, but I still paint abstract stuff. Have a good week. Love, B. Nice

P.S. Here’s a link to my blog about the present.