Head shots

One of the awkward and inescapable aspects of a career in comedy is the specter of ego. I would imagine most comics want to be perceived as the happy go lucky, likable person everyone can relate to. Cracking jokes in the corner long enough can eventually lead to the spotlight--instead of cracking up with a few buddies you try it out on a crowd of strangers. But still, the congenial and sincere everyman seems to be an abiding archetype within the field.

So it was with some trepidation I stepped into a stranger's photography studio on West 39th St. this afternoon. What the hell is this--I'm going to prance and pose for some dude? My only real hope before the session began was to avoid any encounter that could potentially lead to man rape. About 10 minutes in I desperately wished I had booked a session with a female photographer. A man photographing another man for an hour? That kind of shit wouldn't fly in the neighborhood I grew up in.

But the guy seemed nice and I quickly realized that like most other people I've met in New York City he was pursuing a passion and wanted to capture something great on film. Which is why I then forfeited my session to a hot girl. No. Anyway, after evaluating the sad little collection of "outfits" I'd brought (four shirts I thought weren't too wrinkled) we decided to start with some nudes and take it from there. No. Thankfully he was fine with one of the shirts as I had no desire to change more than once in front of another man with a camera nearby. Despite my post adolescent acceptance of the gay lifestyle deep down I'm still a paranoid straight kid evaluating how the neighborhood bullies are interpreting my every move.

Before we start he tells me he's going to step out for a moment. I ask if this is the part where he gets three guys with machine guns and they come back and rob me. It's not. It's the part where he smokes a little dope before we get started. I can't prove this but my trained nose tells me this is exactly what happened. At first I'm jealous. Then I realize a photo session with a man is bad enough sober. High would have been a disaster. I'm not sure my Dad could handle looking at a head shot of his oldest son stoned while being photographed by a man. That's just not what he set out to accomplish.

Now I'm not doing something right with my back. Or my neck. Look natural, damnit. Put your hand on this chair, cross your legs, lean against the ledge near the open window, chin down more. I scold myself briefly for not being able to contort my body the way this man wants me to. God this all sounds so gay.

I'm just being a silly goose. The guy was straight. So straight in fact that we entered into one of those discussions where in the back of my head I think "God I'm glad no girl can hear this." He asks me if I want to hear one of his theories. Yes, I want to hear any and all theories. It involves the ideal age for men and women to just go ape shit on each other sexually. For women, apparently, they have so many eggs just dying to be fertilized at age 26. The beautiful part, you see, is they don't even know it. All they know is that they are horny but we, the savvy men, know the real story. Men, for our part, intrinsically understand once we hit our forties that our prostates are dying and so we want to use up as much of its product as possible before the grave swallows erotic pleasure once and for all.

Hence 26 year old girls and 42 year old men are a combustible combination just itching to be paired up by Eros and his sentimental counterpart. Something tells me 42 year old men are much more in favor of this arrangement than 26 year old women. Anyway, it's a theory and is exactly the kind of theory guys like to discuss with each other. Left unattended guys often ponder two main questions: 1) How can we understand the dynamics of female sexuality? and 2) How can we take advantage of this without their knowledge? But this is no surprise.

After about an hour of pictures I'm desperate to stop. Don't we have enough already? How many do we have? 260. Outside of this session I don't think I own 260 pictures of myself from birth through today. For god's sake we have to find something decent in the 260. And even if we don't let's cut our losses and go back outside on the street where tough people are near.

Left unattended the desire for a perfect head shot could spiral into all other sorts of vain pursuits. If the comedy thing does work out I hope to be known as a sincere, direct, humble person who tells the truth in a funny way. So let's just get a few decent shots, get them printed, and never speak of this again.