On Thursday January 31st I woke up at 4:30 after around 3 hours of sleep. My stomach was in knots and my head was in a fog. I got dressed, kissed my beloved Isabelle and said good bye to my creepy crypt. I honestly got a little choked up. I knew what I was doing could change the rest of my life. Maybe it was just wishful thinking but the gravity of the situation was dawning on me.
A wind storm was tearing ass through Conmecticut. A resin statue I keep on the back porch of Buddha had been pushed over with such force that it shattered in two. I took this as a bad omen.
Almost immediately this sign of impending turmoil began to manifest itself as reality. I forgot my ID and had to run home after pumping gas. Trees were down in the road and I was diverted from my normal route and made to be even later than I already was. My very pregnant sister texted and said she was hospitalized with a kidney stone. A near and dear friend and fellow collector in Baltimore called me and said his house was almost broken into. He went on his back porch only to come eye to eye through a glass door with a would be robber armed with a crowbar. This whole morning was a mess.
The last time I attempted NYC by train the rails were shut down and I was stranded on a track for an hour.
I was convinced I was gonna get fucked out of this opportunity. My anxiety was skyrocketing. Stomach knots were twisting. I was sucking on my inhaler like it was a lollipop.
And then it all kinda mellowed out. Not a speck of traffic. I made great time. Got a great parking spot in the garage. Made the next train out with minutes to spare. People were kind and held doors and pointed out money I dropped. It was looking more and more positive by the minute.
The sunrise on the train was spectacular. I watched it dance on the water and break through the shards of glass left in abandoned building window sills. I got a reassuring calm and knew that no matter what, I was doing something so many were afraid to do or just to stubborn to try. I don't want to die knowing I could have attempted something that would change my life and never taken the risk.
I hopped a cab outside of grand central and zipped over to the small bar the audition was being held at. I was an hour early and was still number 30 or so in line. Artists kept pouring in after me. I made a little small talk but no one was really that friendly. Little surface shit. I showed my portfolio to some cholo looking dudes with black and grey face tattoos. Nice guys. Said my stuff looked clean. They were all the way from California. I saw an artist who's work I really liked just a few people ahead of me. Wanted to say hello but didn't want to get out of line and cause any ruckus. We tattoo artists aren't known for our forgiving nature and decorum when slighted.
The door finally opens up and we all proceed like cattle to slaughter. Blindly winding up the steps. This dude in front of me brought a giant art school portfolio. The " look at me I'm an artist " type. I think it's a shitty strategy. More of an inconvenience to casting directors having to wait for him to break it all out. It turns out it's an inconvenience to me too. He's so oblivious to how huge this thing is and I actually have to stick and movie like Cassius Clay to avoid losing an eye. Picture a 325 lb guy dancing on a tiny ass steal New York stair way. If I slipped it woulda been a big fat snowball of beard and tattoo tumbling down ass over tea kettle, taking people out.
We all sign in. Then wait to get called. Three casting directors loom in the distance behind a paneled glass wall. Three artists line up at a time, and once a spot opens at a directors table, one breaks off and shuffle in.
I'm no stranger to casting interviews. I was on a TLC show called " Help Wanted " where I competed to be the New Haven Raven's mascot. I was militant straight edge at the time and went x-ed up all my facial piercings in wearing a BANE shirt or some other iconic image of the hardcore scene. I never had to really audtion for " Oddities". They like characters and encourage awkwardness on camera and take anyone. My collection of dead things was credential enough. Most recently me and Nathan Roberts, the Baltimore collector I mentioned earlier, attempted to get on top collector. A team based antique purchasing competition. We completed the camera interview but never got the call to film. Heard the show kinda sucked anyways. It's was all furniture crap, and while we could've probably held our own its far from our areas of expertise.
Back to the current audition, I finally get waved in to an attractive lady who's name evades me right now. She's warm and welcoming. I essentially have 5 to 7 minutes to win her over and secure a call back. I hand over my portfolio as we chit chat. It's easy to talk to her. Conversation flows easily. We talk about my past TV experience. My collection. My recent internet run in with Kay Kutta, a past Ink Master competitor. I caught Kay cross contaminating on the first episode of season 2. I took to Instagram and called him out on it. His response was less than intelligent. He called me a " cock sucking groupie " and insisted I send him my girlfriend so he could fuck her. Classy. I let the director know I plan on flipping his table should I run into him at a convention. She wrote down some info on a piece of paper and informed me I had an on camera interview at 1 PM the next day. I was instructed to keep a straight face and walk out with out saying a word. I put on my best poker face and worked my way through the crowd and couldn't wait to call Izzy and tell her the news
