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Bryan Ferry - Bryan Ferry: Dylanesque Live - The London Sessions
[amazon.com
Release date: June 19, 2007
Bob entered the cluttered conference room in one of Virgin’s many random offices scattered across the blue globe. Stan, already weary and disheveled, had arrived just a minute before. He nursed a stale, lukewarm, weak coffee and stared at the cigarette butts in the ashtray in the middle of the table. One of them had a gross shade of dark brown lipstick smeared on the filter.
”I found the photo,” Bob said, duly pleased with himself.
”Oh?” Stan said, looking up.
”Yeah, here it is.”
He slapped down a black and white 8×10 of Bryan, which was obviously blown up from consumer photo dimensions and gently doctored, possibly from a crappy disposable or digital proto-camera. Stan looked at him like he was from one of Saturn’s moons, possibly Hyperion.
”Are you joking?”
”No, just look at it. He’s got the messed up hair, the scarf, the bewildered look. It’s a total pussy magnet. Plus it screams Dylan.”
Stan leaned in close to the glossy. “His hand is blurry.”
”So? We can fix that if we want to. It’s a candid.”
”It can be candid, just not crappy. We can just do a shoot. Then we make it look however we want.”
Bob rolled his eyes and sighed. Stan was just not getting it. He always was the Philistine of the group.
Stan scratched his cheek. “Just make sure you know what you’re doing before Sweeney comes in. She’ll give you the third degree on that hand.”
”She’ll love it,” Bob said confidently. He gazed at the photo like it was his date. “That’s the exact scarf he had in Freewheelin’
”He didn’t have a scarf in that. It was just cold out. Unless you want to consider that girl his ’scarf.’ Kind of like a beard.”
”Dylan’s gay?”
Stan groaned inwardly. “Jesus. No, Bob. You’re thinking of Blonde On Blonde
”That sounds gay to me.”
”I mean the scarf.”
Both of them were silent for a few minutes; Stan sipping his water-coffee, Bob leaning against the conference room wall and continuing to optically make out with Bryan’s image, long distance-style.
”She’ll hate it,” Stan reiterated.
”I disagree.”
”If she okays it, I’m going to push for that crazy background with the sun-eye and spokes and whatever. Anything to draw attention away from that stupid hand.”
Stan finished his coffee and sunk it into the metal trashcan in the far corner with aplomb. Everyone else was a good deal late for this thing. Stan leaned back in his chair and closed his eyes to enjoy the vaguely mild caffeine rush. The silence jolted back in for a comforting few minutes.
”You’re an asshole, Stan.”
Brilliant.
roxy music?
Hilarious.
Thanks 1/3 / JJ.
I read it just now and noticed about 50 spelling/grammar errors. Gosh, I suck at the keyboard.