April 15, 2026

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

When we’re drinking too much, we fall down. When we fall down we eventually go to sleep. When we go to sleep, we do not sin. When we don’t sin, we go to heaven. Therefore, we should all drink and go to heaven. Now, this is what I found from the first journal I ever did. I must have been around 11. Isn’t this profound? Some words of wisdom from an 11 year old. But it’s kind of true, right? Now, speaking of journals, I’m gonna have my friend here pull out one of my journals and turn to a page about the past.

OK, so we opened up to a page of a cartoon of when I built my house. Man, it’s probably one of the toughest things I’ve ever done (other than being married). Building a house is like building a giant sculpture. I built the thing from scratch. You know, we cleared the land, traded some of the trees for the clearing. It was a big project. I was there most of the time. I helped out when I could, but it’s a slow process. Sometimes people wouldn’t even show up. I remember, I think I told you. I remember burying a case of wine and when the house was done I was gonna dig up the case of wine and have a big party. Well on the first day, the builder and the framer and the architect were arguing. I went over, dug up the case of wine and started drinking. It kind of broke the ice because they all started laughing. It seems that drinking seems to be a theme for this blog. Well, makes sense. I lived in Montauk, NY, a small drinking village with a fishing problem.

Love and miss you guys. Talk to you next week. Love, B. Nice

P.S. I forgot to mention something. Within this decade and a half, you know a decade and a half of brain bleeds and stuff, I had to go through a bad case of skin cancer that went down deep into the cartilage of my nose, (they had to use the cartilage from my ear to rebuild my nose. It’s a good thing I’ve go two ears). I also had an operation for a blood clot that was working its way to my lungs. I had an operation for a nasty gall bladder - I blame that one on Paris. I had an operation for a tracheotomy, and then an operation for three feeding tubes (over time). Then there were the countless seizures. One of them flatlined me. I’ve been to the hospital so many times I should have gotten a condo there. Anyway, I thought I’d mention all this. Oh, I forgot something. One time when I was leaving my house, I had an out of body experience. I saw my mom and other people, including myself being loaded up into the ambulance. Just a little out of body experience.

March 4, 2026

Hi everybody. Welcome to my blog where I talk about my past. I’m gonna dedicate this blog to a friend of mine who passed away. Let’s call this blog “Roommates Part B”.

As I said in my previous blog, I had a lot of roommates as I was in the hospital for a long long time. I’m gonna continue to tell you about several other roommates I had.

Let’s call the next roommate “The Sticky Man.” Now, I’ll explain what I mean. I had a roommate in one hosptial. I heard him say to me, “Hey, what’s all this sticky stuff all over me?” and I look up at him and I said “Dude, that would be shit.” The guy must have spent the whole night removing his diaper and covering his body. It was nasty. The nurses were not happy. The guy was out of his mind. I remember the social worker came in to talk to him. She said, '“Where are you going after the hospital? Are you going home with a health aide? Or are you you going to a sub acute facility like a nursing home?” He replied, “Oh, I’m going home. My wife worked everything out. My family is quite wealthy. We’ve hired several people to take care of me.” Well, I overheard the conversatioin. After she left, I said to him, “What was all that about?” because I knew the guy was pretty much homeless and his wife had died several years ago. I think I know where that guy ended up.

The next roommate I’ll call “The Cirminal.” Now, one morning I woke up to see an armed police officer at the foot of the bed next to me. There were also two armed policemen outside the room. There was a man handcuffed to the bed. I guess they came in late at night and put the criminal in the bed next to me. We didn’t talk much because he wasn’t there very long. I don’t know what he did, but it couldn’t have been good.

The next roommate we’ll call “The Biker.” Now, one morning I woke up to see a true biker, I mean gang biker, you know, like the Hell’s Angels, next to me. The guy rolled his bike and ended up with a serious head injury. The rest of his biker gang was there with him. It was a surreal image, and one guy noticed I was awake. He came over to me. Mind you, this guy was like 300 pounds, 6’4”. He came over to me and said, “Hey man, you snore a lot. You kept us up all night. You’re lucky you’re all fucked up because I would fuck you up.” I was thinking sarcastically, “What a nice guy.”

I’ll tell you one more. It was pretty funny. Now, a new policy was introduced to the hospital I was in. They put LoJack locaters on our wheelchairs, and an alarm would go off if we left the floor. I guess the staff was tired of chasing us down the hall. I didn’t mind. I didn’t care, but it drove my roommate crazy. He said no one could control me, man. Well, of course, I encouraged him to try and pry the LoJack system off his chair. He would spend hours with a Swiss Army knife trying to take the system off the chair. Now I’ll explain why we have these lojacks in place. You see, there were three guys on my floor. They were sick of being in a hospital so they decided to go out and have a drink. Well, what they did was they wheeled themselves, down the hall. Got on the elevator. managed to get out of the hospital in their power chairs and go to a bar. Well, they had quite a bit of beer which is one thing, but the problem was, they all had colostomy bags and they drank so much that the bags burst apart. You can image the mess they made. The bartender was not happy. He called the hospital and they came to get the guys. I thought I was a rebel, I just went down to the gift shop to browse a little.

That’s it for now. Love and miss you guys. And if you ever visit someone in the hospital, take them out for some fresh air. They might appreciate that and not go to a local bar.

Love and miss you guys, love B. Nice

February 24, 2026

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

I’m gonna talk about the recent past. You know, I’ve been in many ER’s, many hospitals and many rehabilitation hospitals. I’ve been to the hospital so many times, I should have gotten a condo there. One thing I had in common with that is that I always had a roommate and sometimes several roommates. I’ll just talk about a few.

One of my first roommates was a young FBI agent. She had been beaten up pretty bad in a stairwell. She was with me in a room called the tracheotomy room. There was about 4 of us in the room and a nurse there 24/7. We were high risk patients. Well, this agent was right across from me. I woke up one morning to see she was pretty much naked. I guess the heat got to her. Or the brain injury. Anyway, she was a character. She was in the hospital as long as I was. One time I was having breakfast in the hall. She came up to me to say hi and promptly took a shit on her foot. Obviously, I didn’t finish my breakfast.

I think I told you about this, but I had another roommate right across from me once. He had a black panther tattooed over his heart. His name was Hameed. I said, “Hameed, are you a Black Panther?” He said, “Yeah.” He’s a muslim cleric now. He was an interesting guy. He had some great stories.

Another roommate I had was a drug addict. The guy was doing some drugs and when he passed out wedged his head between the table and the wall. Well, that stunt landed him in the hospital. The guy was a little crazy. He used to have his girlfriend bring his fix into the hospital. The guy would chop up his Oxy and snort it. One time his girlfriend came, they closed the curtains between us and promptly had sex right next to me. I guess you could say I was one sheet away from a menage a trois.

Another roommate I had would just scream all the time. I mean LOUD and all the time. See, I was on the head injury floor at the recovery hospital. The hospital was like something out of One Flew Over the Cuckoo’s Nest. Most people were in there from texting and driving. A lot of young guys were in there from motorcycle accidents. Basically, it was a crazy floor. So I guess I fit right in (my friend here says).

Anyway, that’s just a few of my many roommates I’ve had. I often wonder where they are now. I’m pretty sure some recovered fully, and some never recovered.

One day I’ll tell you about the genius computer guy I had as a roommate. A tree went right through his head and chest in Central Park. There was another guy who kept laughing and crying all the time. The list goes on and on but I’ll leave it at that for now.

Love and miss you guys. Love, B. Nice

P.S. The photo above represents pretty much how I would see a house in the woods. Pretty wild, huh? But that’s how I saw things. But not anymore. I’m getting better.

February 17, 2026

Hey everybody. Welcome to my blog where I talk about my past.

Well, Valentines Day has come and gone. Yes, the day we celebrate love has come and gone, but I don’t need a specific day to celebrate my love for my daughter. I do a heart as often as I can.

Love, B. Nice

February 3, 2026

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

You know, I often talk about the past to reflect and also to forget about the present. I’ll give you an example - oh, before I start, I want to say this blog is dedicated to my beautiful daughter.

Now, go back to my example: you see, my daughter is going to graduate from high school. I’m very proud of her. But the problem is, I can’t attend the graduation. Under medical advice, I really can’t travel halfway across the country. Now, after my first operation, I was able to make it all the way across the country and back. I could walk with a walker, feed myself. Use the bathroom. I could pretty much get by without help. But now, I’m in a bad way. The second operation really kicked my butt. You name it, I’ve got it wrong with me. I won’t go into details, but it’s pretty bad. And on top of it, I’m prone to getting seizures. Now, my seizures aren’t the run of the mill average seizures. My seizures are special. You see, my first seizure triggers another seizure, which triggers another seizure - and that goes on until I die. Being under stress seems to trigger a seizure. That, and too much stimulation. This is why I’ve been advised to stay home, and that bums me out.

So let’s think about the past. I’m gonna call this blog “Cougars”. One of my first run ins with a cougar was in Paris. I was due to do a photoshoot in India. I went over to the art director’s house to talk about the shoot. We talked about the shoot and I was getting weird vibes from the woman. Now, at the end of our conversation, she rubbed my leg and looked into my eyes and said, “I think we’re gonna get along just fine on this shoot.” I quickly called my agent and cancelled the booking. My friend here reminds me that it would have been an exotic shoot.

Another time I was on a photoshoot, I think I told you this story. I was taking a break from our location scouting and had a drink at the bar. There was no one in there but me. Then two cougars came in and sat down right next to me. One on either side. I looked at the bar tender and I just mouthed to him - HELP. He said, “You’re on your own buddy.” You don’t want to know what happened. Let’s just say these were Florida cougars. They were on a convention.

I’ll tell you one more cougar story. I’ve got a few more. But I’ll just tell you one more. This took place on April Fools Day. I was at a bar with a friend of mine. My girlfriend and her friend went to the bathroom. Well, after a few minutes, some young woman walked into the bar. They were hanging out and then they came immediately over to our table. We started talking and after a while, even though I was naive, they weren’t cougars. They were average every day prostitutes. Well, my girlfriend came back and the two prostitutes quickly ran away. The moral of the story is, don’t assume they’re cougars. Assume they’re prostitutes.

That’s it for now. I’m going to go back to being bummed out. Love and miss you guys.

Love, B. Nice