Office Magazine, The Great Gig In The Sky

Rudy is a legend.

I look up to him in many ways. In some ways.

He's made an Italo 80's hit, traveled the world, lost a testicle in a motorcycle accident, spent 9 months in jail, modeled for Saint Laurent, Ralph Lauren, Prada, Dolce & Gabbana and more.

I mean, he’s lived his life.

He’s inspiring, with a lot of stories to tell.

He’s a liability, and thats what he says about himself.

Rudy is an absolute mad man.

I met Rudy back in Nam.

Not American veteran Nam but the vacation kind of Vietnam.

We were booked on a modeling job together where we got to spend a few days drinking and shooting together.

They call him Mr. Heineken back in Palm Springs and within a few hours thats what the hotel staff in Vietnam called him as well.

Rudy must’ve had at least 20 beers daily before dinner.

It was fun to have someone to drink with instead of doing push ups with.

I can’t sleep well when i drink so I woke up quite early most days.

I’d step on the porch and find him drinking a bottle of rum before breakfast.

We would have some breakfast and then he would start beers right after.

After the shoot I spent a month in Thailand solo traveling.

Thinking about my own relationship to alcohol.

For a month I would wake up drinking Singha for breakfast hopping around the bars drinking my way through the day to keep myself entertained while I was on vacation.

I wondered if it was ok to do so.

I got a lot done that year so it felt good to not get shit done for a bit.

When i found out that Rudy lived in Palm Springs, I told him I would visit him when we were back in California.

So when I landed back in LA, I called him in the morning.

“Rudy, what are you up to? Are you in Palm Springs?”

At first he was unsure of who I was on the phone but within a few seconds he invited me to come out to Palm Springs.

He told me he had some relationship trouble and was staying in a Motel 6.

“I have an extra bed for you, make your way out here.” he said in a raspy voice with a slight dutch accent.

I told him I would finish up a few emails and make my way over there.

I put in the address on Google Maps.. 5 1/2 hours traffic to Palm Springs.

For a second I regretted saying I’d come out but I hopped in the car anyways and started driving.

After many dreadful hours of driving my manual 99 Mitsubishi Eclipse I finally arrived to a slightly drunk Rudy in a janky motel room.

I gave him a big hug and greeted his friends.

Four permanent Motel 6 guests and two dogs packed together in a room smoking cigarettes,weed and drinking cheap wine and beer.

Rudy was mumbling a lot and it took me a little bit to get adjusted, but within an hour we understood each other quite well.

We hit up Rudy’s favorite bar “Hair Of The Dog” and had beer with fries and chicken wings.

After an hour of talking about good old Nam we went to the liquor store picked up some boozeand carried on back to the Motel 6.

We drank more, mumbled more and eventually fell asleep at around 1am.

Two hours later I woke up to Rudy sleep talking, sleep smoking and sleep drinking.

I yelled at him to shut up and asked him what he was talking about.

He said he was talking about his childhood and mine.

I don’t know where he got that from but it made sense.

He must’ve had a sixth sense.

It made me think of my first childhood memory.

It was the middle of the night.

My mom threw a wine glass at my stepfather which shattered on the kitchen counter and split his hand open.

She saw me hiding behind the ladder, told B to go fuck himself, grabbed my hand and walked out with me.

We ate candy, while sitting on a curb on Canal Street.

I remember her crying but holding me really closely.

It felt good to finally get to spend some time with her alone.

Room 134 at the Motel 6 reaked of smoke and booze.

I finally had enough of it, so I got up and walked around Palm Springs.

I found a nice little breakfast place called Elmer’s where I had some 6am bacon and eggs.

I felt disoriented and almost passed out in my breakfast bowl.

After breakfast I picked up Rudy who was already enjoying a half a bottle of wine.

We drove towards Los Angeles.

We listened to Pink Floyd and smoked some cigarettes.

He tried flicking one of them out of the car but it hit the edge of the window and burnt a hole in my car floor. Rudy showed me his tattoo that he got in jail and taught me how to crush beer cans with his hands.

I felt like I learned something for life.

I asked him what was nice to see in Palm Springs so he guided me to some colorful dinosaurs off the Freeway.

The night before I noticed Rudy sleeps with two pillows.

He keeps one under his head and puts one over his face.

I asked him why he does that.

He said he does it so there is absolut silence and darkness around him.

I think its the only way his mind stops racing.

It felt a bit like a little family trip.

Uncle Rudy.

Rudy walked up to a lady with a Goldendoodle and told her she should rather get a cute dog.

The lady smiled.

We made one last stop at the gas station before heading back on the Freeway where I bought an

energy drink and slid a Cliff Bar in the back of my pocket.

Rudy asked me if I stole anything in front of the cashier.

All three of us laughed.

We arrived in Beverly Hills.

Rudy got kicked out of the first party for drinking too much booze and passing out in a santa suit.

People in the Hills take themselves too seriously.

We drove downtown and went to a warehouse rave.

Rudy loved it and everyone loved Rudy.

After another long and sleepless night Rudy and I parted ways at 7am at a Starbucks on Melrose.

I gave him a hug and for some reason, it almost felt like saying bye to my mother.The last time I saw her she was crying on a curb.

I hugged her.

Photography and text by Tim Grupp