Chapter 62 - August 7, 2012

Hi everybody.  I hope you're having a good summer.  OK, so I looked back at my previous blogs.  My friend who's typing this printed them out for my father.  I notice that previously I talked more about my condition, and now, I tell more stories.  I think I enjoy telling the stories more.  So, I'll continue with the stories.  I will talk a little bit about Traumatic Brain Injury.  You know when you have a traumatic brain injury like this, it's good not to show everyone fear.  Fear is contagious, and it makes everyone uncomfortable.  I know a little bit about fear.  Here's one story.  I was at a traffic light.  This is around college period.  Anyway, I was at a traffic light coming back from a track meet.  My roommate pulled up next to me in his dodge dart.  He yelled at me, "Get off the road with that car you idiot."  So what did I do?  I reached into the glove box and grabbed my coaches snubbed nosed .38 calibre detective special handgun which he uses to start races.  It had been modified to fire .22 mm blanks.  Anyway, I pulled the handgun out of the glove box, got out of the car and screamed at my friend. "Eat this motherfucker," and fired off 6 chambers at him.  Everyone at the intersection went crazy.  It was pandemonium.  People were running red lights.  Screeching tires.  It was total fear and panic to get out of there.  I thought to myself, maybe this wasn't a good idea, and I got in my car and went home.

So, basically, try not to show any fear.  In surfing you try not to show fear.  Tennis, running competitively, skiing, scuba diving.  Basically, don't show any fear.  It's what I'm trying to do for this whole experience.  I think I substituted my fears with trying to be a stand up comic, or in my case, a sit down comic.

I'd like to talk again about how important it is to have good friends come by.  Having good friends is so important.  It can really brighten your day.  Everyone has their different way of supporting you.  I have one good friend in Australia.  I won't' mention names because I want to protect the not-so-innocent.  Anyway, this friend in Australia has been so supportive.  I just wanted to say thank you to her.

Thinking about her reminds me of 2 things.  Sorry about this my friend, but I have to share with everyone this story.  We were all sitting around her table after dinner and being as drunk as we were, we decided it would be a good idea to book a mini holiday hiking and camping.  She booked us a trip hiking and camping in the forest of northern New South Wales.  It's beautiful.  Kind of like a rain forest.  Anyway, the first morning started out great.  We were hiking in a beautiful canopy rain forest.  All of a sudden, the girl at the front started freaking out and screaming.  She ran behind a tree with her boyfriend.  I went to see what was going on.  She was looking into her pants.  There were leeches everywhere, and I mean everywhere.  She was freaking out, and they all looked at my waistband, and my shorts. and I was covered with leaches.  Then I told everyone to check themselves.  They were covered in leaches.  The guide had lead us into a leach infested area.  Well, it seems table salt will make them come off, so we used our salt to get them off.  We continued walking.  Pretty soon, it was time to rest and have lunch.  We did and we continued hiking.  Just then, the trail entered an area of total destruction.  A couple large Ghost Gum trees fell over.  Took out an area about one city block.  Was crazy.  The guide freaked out.  He said, "I gotta get my mapping compass."  He frantically looked for his map.  The idiot left it behind at the lunch area.  Then it started to rain.  He ran around yelling, "Keep your face dry," as he was looking for his compass.  Well he lost that as well.  The guide started panicking.  He started mentioning helicoptors, search crews, dogs, police.  I thought, this isn't good.  Then I looked down and I was covered in leaches again.  The girl started screaming.  Everyone was freaking out.  Well, my friend, she kind of took control and said, All right, we gotta find the trail.  So she and I set off into the destruction zone to find the trail.  She and I were climbing the downed tree.  We were over them, under them.  It wasn't that safe, as the trees weren't totally settled.  Anyway, she eventually found the trail on the other side.  We went back to get everyone and we eventually got back on the trail.  We were covered in blood and mud.  Not a good look.  We got back to the camp and started taking showers.  All I remember hearing is Salt, Salt, Salt, Salt.  The next day was beautiful.  We ended up cutting the trip short.  Ended up on a highway where I proceeded to say, "I'm Out of Here," and proceeded to try and hitch hike back to my car.  The guy I was with and his wife were also trying to hitch a ride.  I got picked up right away by an elderly couple.  They could have been my grand parents.  They were like a gift from above.  I couldn't believe it.  They were so nice.  They treated me and my wife at the time, to some tea and some crackers, the blanket, it was very comforting.  I remember drinking my tea and driving by my friend who was still trying to hitch hike.  I thought, to myself, no wonder why no one will pick him up.  He was covered in mud, blood, his hair was crazy.  They guy looked like an ax murderer.

One more story about my friend in Australia.  I think I told this story before.  I definitely shared it with her, but I'm going to tell it again anyway cause I think I told it a long time ago.  My friend, she was to go on a trip, so she asked me to look after her son, so I said, sure, no problem.  Well I took her son down to the beach with me.  I went down there to check out the waves and the wind.  I had the kid, he was about 2 at the time.  Anyway, I let the kid play on the grass while I talked to my other friends who were there.  Just then, one of my other friends said, "OY mate.  Have a look over there.  That doesn't look right."  I looked over and to my horror I saw my friends little boy eatining a huge big dry dog turd.  He was scarfing it down.  By the time I got to him, he ate half the dog turd.  So what did I do?  I got some water, cleaned off his face and gave him a drink to wash it down.  There was nothing else I could do.  I just kept an eye on him for the rest of the day.  Well, at night, my friend, she came home and she proceeded to change her little boy's diaper.  I heard from the back room, "Oh my god! What did you feed this child for lunch.  It smells so bad."  Well, I got nervous and lit up a joint and said, "I don't know."  I still feel guilty.  Sorry my friend.

I'm going to talk a little bit about Traumatic Brain Injury.  You know, I had 2 brain operations.  7 other operations.  4 seizures.  I've been through a lot.  I've learned many things, but one thing that stands out above everything is everyone is different.  Each situation is different.  It's not like having a broken arm where the doctors can say you'll be fine in so many days.  You don't know how long it will take to heal.  Every situation is unique and different.  Hell, even the doctors don't have all the answers.  You will become your own doctor.  Anyway, that's about it for now.  I still get tired talking, and I'm sure my friend is tired of typing, so I'll leave you with another of the cartoons I used to do.  See you next week.  Oh, yeah, come to the show if you can make it.  The details are in my previous blog.  I saw the photographs today.  We laid them out to hang.  It looks great.  It reminds me of why I started taking pictures in the beginning.  It makes me happy.  It's not about the money.  Hell, we'll barely break even on the show.  It's not about money.  It's about the art of photography.  See you next week.  Love, B. Nice

Chapter 61 - July 31, 2012

Hi everyone.  After reading my last blog, I forgot to tell you a story.  I was in St. Bart's shooting a photo job.  We were on our way back to New York City.  When we arrived I had 14 messages.  They started out calm and ended up frantic.  We had left some film behind.  I jumped up and looked into my film bag.  It felt light.  No way was there one weeks shooting in the bag.  Sure enough my assistant had left half the film in St. Bart's.  I said to him, "Hey, let me see your frequent flyer card."  He looked at me confused.  "Can't we fed ed the film?"  I just looked at him and kept dialing.  We booked him on a flight for the next morning to go over there and get the rest of the film.  He had to get up early.  What a shame.  Fly direct.  The director handed him the bag of film and he left on the returning flight.  What a fun way to spend a day.

I'd like to tell you another assistant story.  I was on a photographic shoot in Santa Fe New Mexico.  As I was shooting, I said to my assistant, "Hey, can you please book a massage tonight?  And book one for yourself as well.  If you can take us there I'll pay for it."  Well, he called a famous spa in Santa Fe.  The only massage available was a couples massage.  I thought Couples, Singles, what's the difference?  So I said, book the couples massage.  Big deal.  Anyway, we got done shooting and went back to the hotel, had dinner and then went to the spa.  I should have known something was up from the reaction of the receptionist at the spa.  She said, "Are you two having a nice time in Santa Fe?"  I looked at her puzzled and said, "Sure."  She handed me a towel and my robe, which looked like something from a 1960's James Bond film.  It was a very short robe.  After changing into the robe, oh, I was wearing nothing underneath it as well.  I was told this is what you do.  Anyway, I get to the waiting room and waited for the therapist.  I felt rather uncomfortable cause the robe was so short and I was naked underneath, so I went over, got a magazine and stood by the window to look outside.  My assistant came over and said, "Dude, you are totally back lit, do not stand by the window.  Your robe is totally see through!"  Just then, the therapist came in and called my name and my assistant's name.  She said, "Oh, couple's massage.  Come this way please."  We got into the massage room and she said, "Are you both having a nice time in Santa Fe?  I thought, why does everyone keep asking me if I'm having a good time.  Anyway, I look at the spa room and I see two tables, some candles, some incense, and then she puts on some music.  Marvin Gaye, how appropriate.  How romantic.  And then, the other therapist comes in.  He says, "OK, which one's mine?" and pushes the tables closer together.  She told me to lay down.  He told my assistant to lay down.  I said to my assistant, "Can you read my lips?" He said, "Yeah."  And I said, "I'm going to kill you."  Well, I learned two things from this:  1.  Do your own booking; and 2.  My assistant grunts when he's getting a massage.

Well, let's talk about traumatic brain injury.  You know when you're messed up like this, it's good to have distractions.  You know, do what you love to do, at least try.  I'm having a photographic show to show the world how I see things.  I'm really looking forward to it.  I've been putting it together for some time now.  My Mom has been a great help.  I've also got some great help from my friends.  Anyway, I hope you can make it.  I'm going to attach an announcement with all the details.  I hope you can come.  If not, I'll put a video up of the show in a later blog.

Going back to Traumatic Brain Injury, I found that at this stage, 3 years into it, my emotions swing wildly from depression to happiness.  It's amazing.  I just wanted to share that with you.  You know what, I really don't feel like talking about it.  I will say one thing, I'm getting better.  It's been really slow, but this week I see a great improvement in some things.  Remember, baby steps.

Let's tell a few stories because it really seems to cheer me up.  I'll tell a couple of stories from when I lived in Paris.  The first story that comes to mind happened when I went back there to visit.  I was in the Tuillerie Gardens with a famous actress and her ex husband.  We were all sitting at a cafe taking in the sun with our Hollywood sunglasses.  It was really quiet.  We were sitting there, me, her and her ex husband, and she said, "Oh my god.  It's so beautiful.  So romantic, yet here I sit with a married man (I was married at the time), on my right and my gay ex-husband on my left.  I'm so f_______."  He leaned over, touched her knee and said, "Honey you're not f______, that's the point."  We all laughed.

Another story happened when I first arrived in Paris many years ago.  I sublet an apartment from a friend of mine.  I'd never been there before, I just took the apartment sight unseen.  I just had the key.  He told me it was on the top floor.  Well, I went to the top floor and all the apartment doors had skeleton keys for locks.  My key didn't fit in any door.  My key was more of a modern key.  I thought, do I have the wrong building?  And then, I remembered, at the last turn of the staircase was a door that looked like a utility closet.  I went over to it, put my key in.  It fit.  I thought, oh no, and I opened it up to find another flight of stairs/ladder going up to probably where they stored the summer furniture.  I climbed up and sure enough, it was the apartment.  It had great views of the Eiffel Tower and Paris, but it was so small, you couldn't swing a dead cat around in there.  There was another door.  I thought thank god another room.  I opened up the door and it was what you'd call a bathroom.  Hey, at least I could use the toilet and brush my teeth at the same time.

OK, one last story about Paris.  It's probably why I'm based in New York.  The whole time I was there, I worked for a certain fashion magazine.  Well, you know, the grass is always greener on the other side.  I wanted to work for their competitor.  I kept bugging them until finally the competitor gave me a story to do.  It was lingerie.  Simple right?  Well, I booked a beautiful chateau in Paris.  We had an idea for a story.  It was simple.  A girl, a big empty chateau, beautiful light, some moving boxes and a few puppies.  Well, I woke up on the day we were to shoot.  It was raining so hard.  And it was freezing.  It was December 12.  Probably the shortest day of the year, or at least it felt like it.  Anyway, I get to the chateau.  It's so dark you can't believe it, and cold too.  Freezing cold.  Like an ice pop.  The hair and makeup artist arrived.  I knew him.  I couldn't believe he was working.  The poor guy was dying from AIDS.  He was really good friends with the stylist who arrived.  They looked at each other and started crying.  So what did she do?  She went and got some wine and got ripped.  They were in the corner drinking and crying.  Then the woman arrived with the puppies.  She was ripped, and it's only 9 am.  The puppies were not even puppies.  I think they were just born.  They looked like slugs.  She was drunk and they would like slither across the floor, and she would kick them back to the middle.  And then she saw the other two were drinking so she thought, "Oh, it's OK to drink," so she started drinking.  She continued to... Then, the model arrived.  She was pretty, but sheas like 3 feet tall.  She had a chest like a double D.  Huge chest and long long hair.  I thought, oh my god, I might as well go back to New York right now.  We ordered some lights, but it was just disastrous.  Chalk it up to experience I guess.  I should have stopped the job when I saw the rain.  Anyway, they never ran the story.  Gee I wonder why.  Anyway, I knew it, but the magazine I worked for found out I was working for their competitor and everything went downhill from there.  Needless to say, I went home.  Back to New York, after some red wine.

Well, that's it for now.  Oh, Yeah, I had a request to talk about the drawing of the mask in the previous blog.  It involves a primitive old mask from New Guinea, lots of blood and screams.  That's it for now.  I'll talk to you guys next week.  Here's a drawing from way back when.

Chapter 60 - July 24, 2012

Brian, do you believe in God?  This guy is the most resilient patient I've ever seen.  You are so brave. Oh, you're that guy that Dr. Steig worked on.  What an amazing operation.  Let me shake your hand.  Good job. You're my new hero.  They gave you a 5% chance of making it off the table alive.  What's going to be your legacy?  That is going to be my legacy.  All of the above are things I heard from doctors, friends, family, nurses.  They were all happy I pulled through.  The fact I pulled through and my daughter, that will be my legacy.

Sometimes you go to the beach and the ocean is full of rip currents.  Being a surfer, I love rip currents.  If you're a swimmer, they can be a real drag.  The point is, it depends how you look at something.  There's always a positive and negative to everything.  As a surfer, I love rip currents because they would bring me out back to the waves real quick.  As a swimmer, as long as you don't fight it, you could work with it.  But, if you work against it it could take your life.  So, once again, it all depends on how you look at it.  This is how I live my life now.  There's definitely a negative side, but believe it or not, there's a positive side as well.  You just have to search for it.

I used to be a negative person.  Always looking at the negative side of things.  Now I try to do the opposite.  And it is like a form of therapy.  You gotta stay positive.  Go with the flow.

OK, I'll get off of my soap box now and tell you a few things I thought of while I was on my back.

I was in Hawaii on a commercial photographic job.  I was walking back to the minivan with my two assistants.  Our arms were filled with equipment.  My first assistant said, open in a very deep voice, and the door slowly opened.  I thought, how cool is that?  A voice activated door.  Perfect.  We got in the van and in a deep voice he said "Close." And the door closed.  I was really excited about it for some reason.  The next day, when we were finished, we were once again walking back to the minivan.  I said to my assistant, "Let me do it.  Let me say open.  Let me open the door."  I stood there and said, "Open" in a deep voice.  Nothing happened.  I said Open again, nothing happened.  The first assistant said, "You sound like a 10 year old girl.  You gotta be a real man like me.  It's programed for a manly voice like me.  You gotta be manly like me. Try again."  So I said, "Open" in a voice Pavorotti would have been proud of.  And the door opened!  Once again, once we were inside, I deeply said, Close, and it closed.  Well, this went on for a couple of days, and then one day I said, Open in a deep voice and I looked over.  The guys, my assistants were crying they were laughing so hard.  The first assistant pulled out a clicker that he had in his pocket.  He'd been pressing open or close all week.  There was no voice activated door.  The bastards got me.  I was pissed.  The thing that really got me bummed out was there was no voice activated door, so if there's anyone out there with a connection to GMC, let's produce this idea, get it done, and then we can be the ones laughing at them.

While we're talking about assistant, I'm going to tell you another story.  I had one guy I worked with who was skinny, skinny like you can't believe, and yet, he ate like an elephant.  I had clients who would ask me if I was bringing him because they had to increase their food budget.  Well, anyway, we were at a job in a japanese restaurant, me and the crew and this assistant.  We had just gotten done shooting.  We had a good meal.  It was a good crew.  The client asked for the check and the waiter said, OK, but you still have one item to come out.  She, the client, looked confused.  Just then, I saw it. It was a humongous boat complete with masts, sails, and it took 2 people to roll it out.  It had sushi all over the deck.  I thought, that can't be for us, that's for 8 people.  The client said, oh no, that's not ours, and my assistant said, no, it's mine!  And he ate the whole thing.  I still say he has a tapeworm.

Another story happened in New Guinea.  I was on an editorial shoot.  We were on a boat along the coast.  Anyway, we were all drinking at the end of the day, and I did a few things I'm not proud of.  1. I drank way too much beer.  2. I threw the aluminum cans into the ocean, and 3. I decided it would be a good idea to show the model how to fire a 9 mm handgun.  These are all bad ideas when you're really drunk.  So, anyway, the girl with our guide decides to use the cans in the water as target practice.  Well, after a few rounds she actually hit a can.  She was so excited she started jumping up and down and saying I hit it, I hit it.  Well I sure was jumping up and down.  She was waving her hands back and forth, and in one of her hands was a 9 mm gun.  She almost shot my head off.  The gun was under my chin.  Well, I sobered up pretty quick and after checking my shorts we went home to the hotel.

Well, that's over now.  I have many more stories to tell.  I think it's good for me to tell them.  It's kind of like therapy for me.  I'll see you next week.  Love, B. Nice

Chapter 59 - July 17, 2012

Windsurfing, long boarding, running, tennis, tae kwon do, snow skiing, water skiing, cross-country skiing, biking, hiking, you get the idea.  I was a very active person.  Now, I sit in a wheelchair and stare at a tree.  It's hard.  It's really difficult to be so active and turn to a wheelchair.  I guess the only thing worse is I have an aide with me all the time.  I have someone bathe me, feed me, take me to therapy, dress me.  Everything.  That's really torturous.  But, like I said before, I'm forever hopeful I'll get better.  And I am getting better.  Just the other day in therapy, I walked for half an hour.  Mind you, it was with my Up and Go, which is kind of like a walker, but I did walk.  I felt like I ran a marathon.  I was so tired.  I think I'm still tired.

Hey, my sister had a fundraiser at her Theraputic Riding Center.  It was an amazing event.  It went really well.  I'm still amazed that she broke ground on the Theraputic Riding Center 2 days after I got injured.  It's kind of ironic that she's doing a therapy center and I got injured.  So ironic.  I hope she doesn't start a cancer research center.  Anyway, her site is:  www.myfeettakewings.org  If you want to check it out.  I'll probably start therapy there when I'm a little more stable.

I just want to mention something.  You know, you get all this stuff like a walker, a power chair, a bed, a shower chair, when you have traumatic brain injury.  Sometimes you look at the stuff and think, Man, I'm messed up.  You gotta look at all these items as tools to get you better.  Like I said before, don't get hung up on the tools.  It's not forever.  Like I said before, the only constant in life is change.  So you'll get some other tools later.  That's all I'm gonna say about that.  Oh, one other thing.  Make sure you buy quality stuff.  Don't go cheap.

OK, now I have a few more fashion photography confessions, things I'm not proud of and I still feel guilty about.  Remember, I've been lying on my back for a long time thinking about things.

The first situation I want to talk about took place in the caribbean.  I was on a fashion shoot for a British fashion magazine.  I was assigned to do a swimwear story.  I decided to shoot on some sandbars that came out at low tide.  Well, on the way out there, one of the models was wearing the outfit to be shot in.  She looked great.  The young kid driving the small boat couldn't take his eyes off of her.  He kept staring at her.  He was maybe 15 or so.  Anyway, we get out to the sandbar and we were about to start working.  The model and the stylist were talking to each other.  The model yelled out to the kid in the boat, "Hey You, in the boat, reach into my purse and get my chicken cutlets."  Chicken cutlet is a term given to breast enhancers.  It's a term the girls use.  The kid reached into her purse and pulled out her chicken cutlets.  He held them up in the air and looked mortified.  She said, yeah, that's it.  Bring them over here please.  Well, he did.  She put them in and we continued on shooting.  Well, on the way back to the hotel at the end of the day, the boy didn't even look at the girl.  I think he was crying.  I think we shattered all his dreams.

The next story took place in New York City.  We were shooting in a beautiful loft in Manhattan.  I was working with a client I worked for maybe once a year.  They had a producer that they used all the time.  She and I were like an old married couple.  One minute we loved each other.  The next minute we hated each other.  Anyway, there was a lot of real nice art in this apartment.  We were told Do Not Touch Anything unless we talk to the head housekeeper.  The housekeeper and the producer kept going on and on about how valuable a certain vase was.  It was on the mantel and by all means we were not to touch it.  She kept bugging me about it over and over.  So what did I do?  I took a photo of it, gave the photo to my assistant.  Give him some money and I said, go to chinatown, get a vase that looks like this, a real cheap one, but as close as possible in look to this one.  Well, he did.  He went to chinatown, got the vase came back and we replaced the valuable one with the fake one.  I hid the valuable one and continued shooting.  At the end of the day, the producer said something to once again annoy me.  Well, I leaned against the mantel, leaned my face on my hand and acted like a real prima donna New York photographer (very well I might add), and then I yelled at her, waved my hands about knocking the vase over.  I tried to catch it and fumbled with it, and it fell to the floor and shattered.  She freaked.  She started screaming at me, and then she started crying and then the housekeeper came out she was from Vietnam.  She looked at me and the broken vase and she started screaming something in vietnamese.  I thought she was going to kill me.  And then, she started crying.  Everyone was freaking out. I said, no no.  It's a joke.  I was joking.  They didn't think it was funny.  I got everyone to calm down, and then my assistant comes out with the valuable vase and said, where do you want me to put this vase?  The housekeeper looked at me and said, "What did he say?" and she started crying again.  I still feel guilty.

OK, here's the last one.  This story, we'll even give it a name, and remember, the names have been changed to protect the innocent.  We'll call this story, "Scarlet and her Beaver."  I think you can guess where I'm going with this.  Anyway, I was in St. Lucia on a beauty shoot for a British magazine.  I had to do a skin shot and a double page.  The girl I was using had great skin and a great body, so I decided to do a nude double page spread.  It was going to be very tasteful and arty.  She had no problem with it, but she said I'll only do it if I face down on my belly.  I said OK, no problem.  So we started shooting.  Well, the editor said can you go up on your side love?  And the model said, no way.  And the editor said, don't worry, we'll strategically place the gutter and your arms so you won't see anything.  It will be very tasteful.  Don't worry.  Don't worry HA!  Fast forward to New York, a couple months later.  I get a phone call from the owner of a certain modeling agency.  He was furious.  He said, you idiot, we could have shot for playboy and got a lot more money.  I didn't know what the hell  he was talking about so I ran out and bought the magazine.  Well, I opened to my spread and sure enough, there was Scarlet and her Beaver.  On the left side of the spread were her legs and her beaver, and on the right were Scarlet and her 2 friends.  There was nothing strategically placed as promised.  Man, did I get in trouble.  It's always the photographer's fault.  Anyway, when Scarlet and I see each other, we still laugh about the shot.  I learned something about a shoot.  Never turn in film you don't want them to show.  And I also learned that Scarlet gave her beaver a nice haircut.

See you all next week.  Love, B. Nice

Chapter 58 - July 10, 2012

When you have Traumatic Brain Injury, you spend a lot of time just sitting there, thinking.  Remember, don't think too much.  Anyway, I was in my parent's house sitting on the back patio when I noticed my little black puppy sitting in the garden.  He was about 30 feet from me.  I kept calling his name over and over again.  He just sat there.  I called him again and again.  He just sat there.  I threw a toy at him.  He just sat there.  Then I realized, it was my parent's black onyx sculpture of a cat.  I had been yelling at a black sculpture for 20 minutes.  I felt stupid.  I felt even more stupid when I looked over and saw my dog looking at me like, you young idiot.  I'm right here!

I would like to start out with a story.  There's a moral to this story.  Anyway, I was in the British Virgin Islands on a family vacation.  This is when I was young.  I wanted to go on a dive and they only had the afternoon of the next day to do a dive.  We went down to the dive center and they only had one dive available.  The dive available was a wreck dive.  Wreck of the Rhone.  It was 100 feet or so.  I had my dive license and I got certified in a swimming pool, 30 feet max.  I figured, eh, what's the difference?  30 feet, 100 feet.  Big deal, so I signed up for it.  I was way underqualified to go on this dive, plus I was alone.

The dive center said I needed to have a partner so they paired me up with a dive instructor.  I was to go with him.  We got to the site, took a small boat to the location.  It was real choppy, real windy.  Everyone was really anxious to go in.  The dive instructor yelled out, "All right, everyone get in.  The guy at the back of the boat by the engine, you go first."  He pointed at me.  I was nervous.  And he said, "Wait, hey you, wait for me when you get in."  It was all a bit disorganized.  Anyway, like the young idiot I was, I forgot to fill up my bouyancy vest and then I grabbed the weight belt next to me which belonged to probably a 300 pound man.  He yelled at me, "Hurry up!"  I just jumped in.  Next thing you know, there were bubbles all around me.  My ears were killing me.  So I held my nose to clear my ears (mind you this all happened in seconds).  Then my eyes started killing me.  The glass of the mask was against my face.  It hurt so much.  So what did I do?  Being the young idiot I was, I ripped off my mask.  Then I hit the bottom, 110 feet.  So, there I sat, 110 feet, no mask, thinking, OK, I'm dead.  But I didn't panic.  I held my nose and breathed out what little breath I had.  I took a little air from the tank. It was ok and then I took another.  Then I opened my eyes and looked around for my mask.  I found it eventually.  I put the mask on, cleared it, and then saw the instructor coming down the anchorline.  He grabbed me by the shoulders and he looked at me.  He gave me the universal, are you crazy?  We did the rest of the dive together.  Everyone kind of kept their distance from me.  Later, when I got on the boat, everyone was whispering and looking at me funny.  The dive instructor said, "Listen, you have mask-squeeze.  Your eyes look kind of funny.  I'm going to show you your eyes. Don't freak out, but your eyes are bulging and there's a little bruising."  Then, he said, "If you wake up in the morning and you have problems with your eyesight, I suggest you go to a doctor."  Well, the next morning I woke up and as I was brushing my teeth, I noticed my eyes were black and blue and read and there was no white.  And to top it off, I looked like the actor, Marty Feldman.  My eyes were bulging and sticking out.  I looked like a goldfish from hell.  I had bruising all around my face from the mask.  Well, after my mom freaked out, I decided to go out that night of course.  Remember, I was only about 16.  So I went out wearing some Ray Ban sunglasses.  You know, I was 16.  I wanted to meet some girls.  You know what it's like.  Anyway, every time I talked to a girl, she would say, "It's night.  What's with the sunglasses?"  I would take them off and of course they would run away.  I looked like the demon child from hell.  So, to summarize, the moral of the story is:  Don't panic.  Stay cool even if you look like a demon child from hell.

Forever hopeful.  Like my little black dog who sits under my wheelchair.  He's forever hopeful I'll try the hangersteak cooked medium rare in butter.  He's forever hopeful.  I'm forever hopeful.  When you have Traumatic Brain Injury, you have to be hopeful.  Remember, a few blogs ago I was hopeful to just walk over and get some water.  That's all.  Well, guess what!  I had my first glass of water the other day.  It only took me 3 years, but I did it.  Now, the next thing I'm working on is walking over there to get it.  I'm working on walking right now.  It's not easy, and it's a lot of work, but I have a new physical therapist who is really cool.  He's like a coach.  He keeps pushing me and it's what I need right now.  I'm using a device called an Up and Go.  It helps you learn how to walk.  It also helps me do exercises that will help me walk.  It's a really cool device.  Expensive, but cool.  I also ordered a power chair.  I keep calling it my electric chair, but I think that's something different.  Anyway, I'll use the power chair until I can walk.  I also am looking at a car that takes a power chair.  It's a cool car.  Just made for those in a wheelchair.

OK, now I'm going to make a couple more fashion confessions.  They are things I've always felt guilty about.  They are things that happened on fashion shoots.  Things I'm not proud of.

The first situation took place in the Bahamas.  I was working with a young girl.  She was great, but she was very new.  Anyway, I had to get a shot of a girl jumping off of a dock into the water.  The dock I chose was pretty high, but I said to the model, "The ladder's right there."  Anyway, the whole time I was talking to her she looked really nervous.  I just figured, you know, she was new, so she was a bit jittery.  Well, I backed up and said, "OK, now run and jump and act like you're having a great time."  She ran and she jumped and she went right to the bottom.  After a minute or so, I looked at my assistant and looked at the bottom, and said Holy Shit!  I threw everything down.  He did too, my assistant and we jumped in.  We swam to the bottom and brought her up and to the ladder.  I said, "Are you all right?"  She said, "I am now, thank you."  I said to her, "What happened?"  She said, "I can't swim."  I thought, my god, I've got to go back to flipping burgers.  This is crazy.  I said, "Why did you jump off?"  She said, "I just wanted to do a good job."  I felt bad.  We took the rest of the afternoon off.  P.S. The shot was great.

The other situation took place in Bermuda.  I used to love to do watershots.  You know, underwater, in the surf, in the rain, etc.  Well, anyway, I had to do a swimwear story.  There wasn't much to the location and I wanted to do something different so I looked around.  I noticed the waves were big that day, and they were crashing on the beach.  It was really cool, so I had the model stand in the impact zone.  I directed her to look relaxed as possible.  She was all into it.  The shots were working out great.  Then it happened.  A freak wave came.  I thought Oh my God.  A giant wave just hit her.  It knocked her down.  Her little string bikini which was a retro suit from the 70's exploded.  Her bottoms blew off and went to the left, and her top went to the right.  She went ass over tea kettle flying through the air.  She got washed up naked at my feet.  All I could do was look up to the sky and say thank you God.  There is a God after all.  Well, she was pissed.  The rest of the afternoon were all shots on the beach.  All the shots were wet, sandy, angry, sultry with an emphasis on angry.

That's it for now.  Remember when you're lying on your back for hours, it's good to remember things.  See you next week.  Love, B. Nice