You’re gonna want to get in on this one!

The gust of the wind came in and we drank ourselves warm.  A night has never been so warm and alive.  Paris is alive.

“If you are lucky enough to have lived in Paris as a young man, then wherever you go for the rest of your life, it stays with you, for Paris is a moveable feast.”
- from A Moveable Feast by Ernest Hemingway

it was through these encounters that he would be able to learn about himself.

Travelling half way across the world always seems to remind me of just how small one is. Yesterday, we boarded a packed non-stop flight from Los Angeles to London (I honestly don’t know if that is even considered yesterday…). Families on summer vacations, newlyweds, crying babies, backpacking college students and the vagabond kind alike were all on board. I could not help but to wonder what every individual story is. I was more curious (and rather nosey…) than ever before. We were lucky that we ran into an old friend working for the airline that bumped us up to better seats. So we found our upgraded, extra legroom, side aisle thrones and watched as people fought their way into more comfortable side aisle seats just like ours. We kept quiet as the flight attendants forced them back to their original areas.

Earlier that day, we sat down at a restaurant in the airport terminal to kill time and get a bite to eat. While there, I swore that I recognized a face that came in and sat at the bar. It was impossible, however, to figure out why he looked so familiar. He could have been a peer in one of my classes, a member of a band that I’ve worked with, a friend of a friend; I have no idea. I have been to far too many places and met too many people over the last couple of years to identify and pinpoint a particular one. The guy that I recognized was on our flight. I didn’t know that, however, until we were exiting the plane in London eleven hours later. I didn’t find him, I didn’t say anything. We went different ways and I guess I’ll never know why he looked familiar.

It is four in the morning at this point and I am wide awake in bed as my brother is asleep in the bed next to me. I can’t help but to think about the last time I was in London and how incredibly different this city is this time around. During the weekend of the last trip two years ago, my best friend and I found ourselves roaming the city until the morning sun told us that it was time to go to sleep. For that particular day, there was no agenda and no world beyond ourselves. We were careless, didn’t keep track of time and only concerned with our bodily desires and the cathartic experience that we craved. That night was a bit of a secret, however, because we were sent here to deliver a product. We had a schedule, budgets and a team of people working with and checking up on us.

Our agenda this time calls for a lot less structure (I have no studio to be at in five hours…), but presents itself already and undoubtably as a more mature adventure. We want to feel the city during the day, go to art galleries and sip on rich wines. It is this side of the city that is so unfamiliar to me.

I’m not sure where this rant is going and some clarity would be helpful, but I guess I’m trying to make the point that during my last trip to London I was just so unaware because I was narrowminded. I do not remember the man sitting next to me on the flight to London (though I do remember it was a man) and I don’t remember all the smaller details that already stand out this time around. I don’t remember much because I was so caught up with the purpose that brought me to the city and the superiority that came with it. (If you don’t know what im talking about, search back to July 2008.). We were determined to feel so much is a short amount of time so we would be able to start fresh at work again the following day. This time I have no purpose, no goal, no quota to fill, and nobody to impress. My vision is clear (possibly too clear…) and I am entirely aware (possibly the reason I am awake at this ungodly hour.)

There is some thrill that comes with the lack of purpose that this trip offers. It is a bit frightening, but also relieving. I have nothing to prove and need to come back with nothing more than the ability to say that I enjoyed my time.

I am finally just one in the crowd again.

Virgin Atlantic Flight 0024 LAX->LHR

See you on the other side of the Atlantic.

From my photo shoot with songwriter/producer Jesse Owen Astin/Like Clockwork:

by Matthew Taylor Ruggieri

“I am bad at interviewing people. I avoid situations in which I have to talk to anyone’s press agent. (This precludes doing pieces on most actors, a bonus in itself.) I do not like to make telephone calls, and would not like to count the mornings I have sat on some Best Western motel bed somewhere and tried to force myself to put through the call to the assistant district attorney. My only advantage as a reporter is that I am so physically small, so temperamentally unobtrusive, and so neurotically inarticulate that people tend to forget that my presence runs counter to their best interests. And it always does. That is one last thing to remember: writers are always selling somebody out.” (Didon, xiv)

For the month of June…
-Finish up promo photographs of songwriter/producer Jesse Owen Astin
-Edit of a live concert video of Band of Skulls “Light of the Morning”
-London>Amsterdam>Paris for 2 1/2 weeks
-New photographs of Josiah Leming
-Release of photo series with Lily Charlotte
-Summer promotions/event for The Motley
-Prepare to move into my downtown loft

It’s on.

From my latest photo shoot.