Well, there really is no Terry Richardson and I. Just Terry Richardson. And I. See, I see Terry all the time walking around SoHo, with random people, usually beautiful women, and I always say, “Hey Terry! Love the work, man!” in some sort of lame way. Oh wait, for those of you who don’t know who the hell I’m talking about, he’s a super famous photographer. Dude is the man! Click here.
So anyway, yesterday I’m eating pizza outside of the famous Ray’s Pizza, when Terry Richardson walks by. AGAIN! I was just telling myself earlier in the day, that if I saw him again, I was gonna ask him to shoot me (with his camera) and low and behold (whatever that means) there he was, walking lazily down Prince Street with some model chick dressed in summer plaid and dirty denim.
Can’t break promises made to self. So, I asked him.
“Yo Terry! Love the work man! You should shoot me!” Just like that. Ridiculous.
His response, “Hey man, thanks. Yeah let’s make that happen!”
And he kept walking. And I finished my pizza, and thought, “yeah right Terry.” But I appreciated him not being a jerk about it. I appreciated him humoring me. And to be honest, there is a little part of me (a very little part of me) that thinks that the next time I see him, he just might take a snap.
1 response so far ↓
1 Holloman // Jul 28, 2010 at 9:17 pm
I think this particular blog is awesome because it actually follows Ray Bradbury’s advice that you get the next day. It’s almost psychic in a way. The signs of life can be so funny at times that we miss the connections even when we’re writing them down (blog).
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