I left New York City for the first time in three months this weekend just past. It was time for fresh air and big skies and home cooked meals of meat and mashed potatoes and gravy. Armed with a camera, and accompanied by Tom Bull, my benevolent benefactor Erika and our friend Heidi Hartwig, we took to the road with Massachusetts in our sights. My old friend Patrick Riley (pictured above), a male model who lived with me for seven weeks in Auckland in 2006, left New York for Mass last year. He and his fiancee Edith own an insane three-storey farmhouse with a barn, an archery green, horses, a camel, a midget alpaca and lots of guns. On the second day we went target shooting – blowing up clay pigeons with shotguns and ill-fated pumpkins with a .357 Magnum Smith and Wesson. For a first time shooter I did pretty well – I managed to hit four of six clay pigeons and I destroyed that pumpkin (photo evidence below). What nobody warned me was how savage the kickback is on a shotgun. As a lasting memento I have a giant green bruise adorning my shoulder. You know it’s hard out here for a thug.
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