I think I am going to have to put “nude” or “naked” in every blog title because I get so many more hits when I do. Funny. I bet my friend Maia’s blog, Yard Sale Porn, gets a lot of hits because its most awesome name contains that magical word that everyone associates with the interwebs.
I had two modeling gigs at the University yesterday. I wore clothes for the afternoon class and my birthday suit for the night shift. This is important to note.
There are a few things I’ve learned about modeling over the course of this semester, but the one that really rings true is how much music sets the mood. I cannot stress this enough.
Music makes a HUGE difference.
Forget the clothes, or lack thereof. Forget the mutton chops. Forget the swords and space heaters. If the music sucks, I am miserable. Yesterday, I was wearing a white shirt with ruffles, plaid skirt, textured tights and motorcycle boots, so I was happy. Was. Until the teacher turned on the radio and left the room. I think she put on V-89, the Voice of Florida State, which is normally a perfectly fine station. The Time Machine on Saturday mornings? Fantastic. The Saturday afternoon Reggae Jam? Totally money. (I, for one, am a big fan of public radio stations dedicating the 2-4:20 spot on Saturdays to reggae. Just saying.) But I think the 1-3 p.m. weekday slot is called Art Model Suicides. Maybe it was bad jazz, or experimental electronic music (don’t even get me started on Bonk), but whatever the hell it was, it made me want to kick kittens. The volume was at that annoyingly low level, too, where every song sounds like “Convoy,” and I could feel my blood boiling. The stool was beginning to feel like a missile up my ass. I began biting my lip. I could taste blood. And then I couldn’t take it anymore. “COULD SOMEONE PLEASE MAKE THIS HORRIBLE MUSIC STOP BEFORE THE MODEL REALLY FREAKS OUT??!?!” Wow. Those art students can really move!
It is strange, because some songs that you would never think of in a million years can create the most perfectly serene mood. And I know that you are going to laugh at me, but last night, while modeling nude in a too-comfortable pose (yes, I did the head-bob/jerk-awake move at one point), I heard Creedence Clearwater Revival’s “Have You Ever Seen the Rain” and it was magical.
The Tropical Storm Ida rains were still falling, the lights were dim (of course, I was in the spotlight), and the students were totally into their drawings. The room, the situation, the moment suddenly felt like a film. I imagined the voice-overs of the students’ thoughts, the CCR softly playing of the scratches off charcoal on paper. And then the camera focuses on the one student listening to his own music, and you hear what’s really going on in his head. The anguish, the lust, the drama. I must go write this screenplay now. Thank you, CCR.
No comments:
Post a Comment