So, the other morning I woke up to an email from the photo editor of the US rolling stone asking me to shoot a very well known musician. I read it about 5 times and then I hit send on my reply. THEN I PANICKED. What the fuck did I just send? I couldn't recall at all.
I go to the sent folder. Fucking hell. I read it back and at first I'm like, that's ok. It's not too bad. I read it again. OK, I mean, it's not great and I asked the Fucking photo editor of the Rolling Stone if there was a concept or a story behind it WHAT THE ACTUAL FUCK.
I spend the day panicking.
The response came late at night because of the time difference between Perth & New York. A few times I say "Hey Siri.... What's the time in New York". FARK.
I'm sure I've fucked it. He tells me they are still confirming, hopes to let me know ASAP.
Next morning (this morning) at 6am, my email notification sound jolts me awake (I set this to do so on purpose, they're normally off) He says still nothing, will let me know. In a haze, I reply with some bullshit about my assistant needing notice. LIKE USE A DIFFERENT ASSISTANT THEN DICK HEAD? My god what am I doing.
Finally, just now, stoned as a badger, a little into a second glass of wine at half past midnight, I send my career death wish. A "hate to bug you, but any update?" email. I hit send by mistake and immediately regret it.
So, Here I tell the internet, at the time of the end of my chance of perhaps making something out of photography. A little drastic perhaps but fuck. The US photo editor of The Rolling Fucking Stone emailed ME. Out of the blue. He found me, liked my work and wanted to hire me.
I guess now I will sit around anxiously till the end of tomorrow, with no reply email and the realisation of how quickly i fucked up a quite excellent opportunity with sheer awkwardness. Good one.
I got a reply.
"They would like to go with their photog of choice". Could. Of. Died.