more news from no where;
last thur's i had to fly back to melbourne to shoot for the flamboyant Mr Peter Alexander, had a bit of fun, pretty girls in their pajama's... couldn't complain.
Got back to my parents, took off my clothes got into bed, got a phone call, put on clothes got out of bed... my friends may or may not have made moonshine and may or may not have made me drink it. the next day; hung over hung up, hung down, got a call from my sydney agency.
"josh, what are you doing?"
"washing my face with moonshine and clean underwear"
"why the fuck are you doing that?"
"its the most sterile thing in this house"
"get on a plane you have a shoot tomoro morning"
fuck.
another seedy plane flight to sydney, straight to a shoot with Harold David. it involved getting butt naked and wearing a lady gaga head piece in a room full of dudes... not much different from the night before. i'm broke for the next 2weeks and have to fly back and suprise my friend to make a speech at his 21st and last chance to try win over the melbourne girl i left before she leaves for europe.
Oh struggles, it's barely even begun.
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