Friday, April 23, 2010

High score on a low day

Man, in a million years I didn't think this was how I thought I'd be spending a day. My grandmother never would've imagined this was where the violin would end up taking me. Oh, oh, oh, how has it come to this? I want someone to tell me that the world is not coming apart at the seams. The tattered ruins of a tarp covering the Yokens sign. I'm going on a stealth mission to take the tarp off. Anyone want to join me?

Having a photographer run his fingers through my hair...that's styling gel, or at least he told me it was styling gel.
The worst part is that I have posed for nude pics before, but I'm sort of falling apart and when he asks me to relax I have to pretend to try instead of saying, "This is relaxed." My back is like a wood plank. I wish I could've had some warning instead of the sneaky, "Hey, I've got an idea. Could you take your shirt off."
Then later.
"You know, I wonder...could you take your pants off."
"Could I..."
"My pants?"
"Yes. Naked. Please. I've got this series in mind. I won't show your privates."
"Ok, but how are you going to miss them?"
"It'll be tasteful."

Taking my underwear off and socks in a bare apartment made me feel like an exploited teen. You show up thinking you'll get one thing and then by the time you get around to it you haven't been paid a penny and you need the money so you'll do anything to get the money. If you leave then you've lost the money you spent getting you to the gig. See? So, if he asks you to give him a hand job "artistically" then you shrug. What's the difference? It's almost like you're punishing your parents for being so strict or too lenient. You aren't fucking the guy, you're fucking your father, you're hurting him for not being perfect. You're hate-fucking the world without a condom.

That makes it sound worse than it was. I'm a nude model. big deal. The photographer is an artist who also works another full time gig. He was going for a vision that he couldn't do without a model.

Am I going to have to explain this? I don't see how I can. A man wanted me to be naked playing the violin on the ground with a backdrop of a Schubert piano impromptu. Who am I to question this? His camera was a $3K SLR with wideframe lens. The pics will probably be fantastic, unlike these crappy 4mp kodak point and shoot ones. If you want learn more about Brian, the man who took pictures of me today, go here...
I asked for a sample that "I could show my mother" and when he sends it to me I'll post it. I'll share my ass crack with the whole world!

I did not want to go into details but the chicken farmer told me to be honest. Ok, you want honesty? How about this:
I didn't wipe my ass good enough last time I dropped a deuce and so when I sat on the construction paper floor I left a skid mark. The guys eyes weren't good enough to pick it up but I'll bet the pictures will need to be edited. There. That's the worst thing I can confess. You know how long it took me to get there? A long time.

Ah, if gay soft porn was my ticket then I left Los Angeles too soon. Gay for Pay was a good gig out there. Back here it barely pays gas fare.

After this I went to an apres porn Weirs beach party and scored the highest score in a long time on Venture. It puts me at #2 in the world* and the stunts I pulled off to score it were ridiculous. At my very best in 1982 I think I got 210,000 points.

It was my last token and when I cleared the 5th screen I was sweating and I jumped for joy and pumped my fist as The Naked Eyes covered "Always Something There to Remind Me" by Burt Bacharach. I was so happy I forgot to use my alias in the high score letters. I like WEB better because it reminds me of 1981 when I did this so many times. The same motions. Can I be the best Venture player today? I was as good as I could be, overcoming the joystick problems and fatigue from doing some weird poses with a violin.

Then I drove back south through the woods and slowed down for a beautiful red fox crossing the road. I saw one in Stratham the other day but this one touched my heart with its lonely side trot and bushy red tail, searching for some bit of safety in all the developed chaos of the coastal lake region. I cried a bit, maybe for the fox and maybe for these mad days sliding away into oblivion no matter what I do, like the fox looking for a den, a mate and some purpose.

*Actually #4 top score in the world.
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Man in the Van by Oggy Bleacher is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial 3.0 Unported License.