Hi everybody. Welcome to my blog where I talk about the past. When I was in hospital, man, I had so many tubes in me, I couldn’t move. Plus, I couldn’t move.
Anyway, while I was lying there staring at the ceiling, I would think of things like the following items. I would make up poems. Really bad poems, but here we go anyway:
I was looking for an apartment in New york City. I didn’t know where to begin. My photo assistant Finn was nice enough to take me in.
Finn had a sunny street level apartment that shared a tall brick wall with a night club, Webster Hall.
There was music and bass throughout. It was noisy as hell no doubt.
People would get out at 3 or 4. It was noisy as hell outside my bedroom door.
(I slept in the closet. Finn said it was a bedroom, but I still say it was a closet. ) Anyway, back to my wonderful poem.
One bass-full night, Finn was sitting on the toilet naked reading the New York Post when all of a sudden, from behind the toilet, there came a New York City rat bigger than most.
Finn dove out the bathroom door and landed on the apartment floor. The apartment that shared the tall brick wall with Webster Hall.
Finn stood up and said, “I know what I’ll do with that rat! I’ll get Buster my cat.” He ran up the stairs naked, which is a frightening thought, and came downstairs with Buster.
(I have to make a side note here: if you don’t mind, I’m gonna give my friend Finn a hard time.)
Now, I’m sure the cat was thinking, “Why is this naked man, armed with a New York Post, holding me?” And then I’m sure the cat thought, “Well, he is like, it’s been said, from New Zealand where men are men and sheep are nervous.”
But, anyway, back to my poem:
My friend, Finn, threw the cat in the bathroom onto the floor. Finn quickly shut the bathroom door. There was silence.
All of a sudden you heard a hiss, a screech and a roar. He slightly opened the bathroom door, and there was Buster the cat, standing tall against the wall on the ledge, the tiny ledge of the bathtub. He was like an Egyptian heiroglypic figure.
Finn opened the door further and there was a rat on the bathroom floor, standing up, smelling the air. Finn pushed open the bathroom door and the rat ran across the floor. The rat grabbed a soiled piece of toilet paper and jumped into a hole in the wall. This all happened in an apartment that shared a tall brick wall with a nightclub, Webster Hall, in New York City.
The other thing that drove me crazy was a missing film. I don’t know why, but I lost some of the best rolls. I remember finally what the images were. Like, for example, I was sitting around a campfire with a bunch of kangaroos. This is in Australia. I took out a wide angle lens and just hung out with them. I’m sure the images were great. The roll disappeared. Another time, I was in Japan. It was during the Cherry Blossom season. I went to a cemetery and there were families around tombstones, crying, laughing, drinking, having picnics, all the time the cherry blossoms were falling. It was surreal. Like a dream. I have a couple of other situations where film went missing, but I always remember those moments.
The last thing that always drove me crazy, I think I talked about it before, it’s a whole conflict I’ve had about friends and modeling. I finally came to the conclusion that if it’s your dream, go for it, but just be careful because stepping into that world can be a hazard. It’s very competitive. But, it can open some doors. I know some people who have gone on to be world famous actors, great in business, they’ve done great TV shows (well, some people think they’re great). The point is, it can open new doors.
That’s it for this week. My other blog is at this link. There I talk about the present.
Have a good week. This is B. Nice signing off.
P.S. People always say, “Brian, how can you remember all your old stories?” It’s very simple. It’s all the truth. The truth is the easiest thing to remember.