But anyway, gue post foto-fotonya dulu yaw. abis itu nanti gue masukin isinya, dan pastinya, video behind the photoshoot, Okay, photo first, so enjoooy!
Okay, so di edisi GQ June issue ini, Justin akhirnya me-reveal kalo dia sebelumnya udah pernah minum beer. huwwoooow! gue sih jujur aja ga shock schok banget. Gue kan udah tau busuk-busuknya justin, remember?
“For me, it’s just like, I like to be in control of myself. I mean, I’ve had a beer, like, before… But I never get out of control.”
“I mean, I keep my guard up a lot, because you know, you can’t trust anyone in this business. That’s what’s sad. You can’t trust anybody. I learned the hard way.”
Well, artikel Justin di GQ ini panjang banget, ga boong gue --" Jadi ini semua diawali dengan gimana orang yang disuruh ngeinterview Justin ini sebenarnya adalah - well bisa dibilang - haters mungkin ya. I mean, dia ga terlalu suka sama Justin. Bahkan, anaknya aja sampe nanya; You will meet Justin Beaver? ke orang ini. udah gitu pas dua disuruh ngewawancarain Justin ini, dia itu nunggu 51 jam buat ketemu Justin, karna 2 hari nungguin di studio tapi si Justin nya langsung pulang gitu. Dia nunggu di studio, Justin katanya makan malam dulu dan nanti balik lagi. Dan jeng jeng, Justin gajadi balik. Besoknya janjian jam 6, si Justin telat dan katanya latihan tinju dulu -___-"
Dan lo tau? Katanya kru Justin, si Justin itu beli semua peralatan boxing karna dia suka dan bokapnya dulu atlet boxing kan. Nah tapi sekarang dia udah mulai bosen dan jarang main lagi. Anjir gampang bener buang-buang duit --"
But anyway, ini hasil interview nya ye :)
I have been warned by several people, including some people in his own camp, that Bieber has a very short attention span. This is correct. He is amazingly distractible. He also bursts into song a lot, at random intervals, no matter who’s around. (…Money on my mind and you on my mind, too much on my mind…) If it were anyone else, this would be annoying, but this is Justin Bieber, so every improvised song fragment is intended as a present to whoever’s around him, like that SNL skit in which Picasso dashes off sketches on scraps of paper and hands them to anyone walking by.
After the impromptu T-shirt alteration, Bieber goes into the recording room to listen to two songs he says he wrote just days earlier. He plays one of them and then proudly announces that he wrote it for his mom, who raised Bieber largely on her own in Stratford, Ontario. “She cried,” he says of her first listen. When he plays the second track, an as-yet-untitled reggae-infused love song—I just wanna be loved by youuuuu—I ask who inspired it. This time, he ducks his head shyly and stammers out, “That one, I just wrote it.” Bieber has been romantically linked to fellow singer Selena Gomez, but he’s not going anywhere near that. Like every other teenager in the universe, Bieber evades questions by staring directly at the floor.
I ask Bieber if he’d like to venture outside the studio to talk over dinner, but he declines. “It’s just a pain in the ass,” he says. Bieber exists inside what amounts to a series of interconnected skyways: He goes from his secluded house to his secluded Range Rover to his secluded studio, rarely setting foot in the exposed world. Suggesting that we pop down the block to a restaurant is insane. Stupid, even. I have been assured by Scooter Braun, Bieber’s manager, that Bieber is “very normal, very regular,” which is nonsense. No one can be normal living under the circumstances that constitute daily life for Justin Bieber.
So we stay at the studio and retreat into a rec room with a pool table. I’m told this is the first time that Bieber has ever been alone with a reporter for a one-on-one interview, which is not true but still makes me feel like a pederast. He immediately grabs a cue and begins playing by himself. I stand off to the side and start lobbing questions at him.
Bieber, justifiably, isn’t forthcoming with people he doesn’t know, and so I do most of the talking, because whenever I stop talking, there’s nothing but silence. Vast, horrible silence. Lots more floor-staring. I ask Bieber if fame ever cramps him.
“Not really, no.”
I ask Bieber about the new house he reportedly just bought.
“I’m not telling you where I live.”
I ask Bieber about not having set foot inside a classroom since he was 14 and how he feels about education in general.
“As far as education goes, you should be a smarter person.”
I ask Bieber about getting shitfaced.
“For me, it’s just like, I like to be in control of myself. I mean, I’ve had a beer, like, before…. But I never get out of control.”
(Later on, I tell Braun about this response, and he says, “He knows that I hold him to a high standard…. He doesn’t want to blow it.”)
“I mean, I keep my guard up a lot, because you know, you can’t trust anyone in this business,” Bieber says. “That’s what’s sad. You can’t trust anybody. I learned the hard way.” I assume he’s talking about the paternity suit that was filed against him (reportedly withdrawn) or maybe the comments he made to Rolling Stone about abortion that made pro-choice advocates angry. Bieber has already learned that every rough edge he shows the world will be turned against him, and so our conversation skates gingerly along the surface of things.
We talk music, and he mentions his love for pre–”Black Album” Metallica—”One,” “Fade to Black.” “Those are my jams,” he says. At last, we’ve got something in common. I feel no desire to punch him in the face anymore. I want to take him on a college tour and buy him sixty cheeseburgers. Seriously, the kid needs to add bulk.
A bit later, someone alerts Bieber that West Coast Customs has arrived with his new Mercedes-Benz Sprinter van. So now he’s running out to the parking lot to give it a once-over. It took West Coast six weeks to trick out the van, and WCC founder Ryan Friedlinghaus is here to hand-deliver the keys.
The Sprinter is exactly the car that an 18-year-old with too much money would drive. The interior is lined with Alcantara. There are two reclining seats way in back, with bucket seats lining the driver’s side of the main cabin, as in a stretch limo. There are three hi-def TVs, a computer dock, and a fully operational recording studio along the passenger side. All that’s missing is a button that spews out an oil slick, Spy Hunter–style, to foil paparazzi. Bieber’s pals try to guess how much it costs. “Definitely not a million,” says someone. One of Bieber’s business advisers, a woman named Allison Kaye, isn’t wild about the new toy. “Oh, this just screams inconspicuous,” she says to Bieber. No response.
Everyone gathers around as Bieber tours the van. He is euphoric. So much so that he has decided to pledge his loyalty to West Coast Customs forever and to decry its rival, Platinum Motorsport. “Fuck Platinum,” he says. “Platinum can suck a dick, man. West Coast all day.” This is a different Bieber from the one who was imprisoned with me just five minutes ago. This must be the Bieber that Bieber would like to be all the time. His R-rated rant, though, draws a reprimand from Friedlinghaus.
After forty minutes, Bieber’s done. That’s it. I have been told repeatedly what a hard worker he is, but in two nights—Bieber only records at night—I’ve witnessed him work for a grand total of forty minutes. Soon he’s back to pinballing around the studio. He catches Kaye ragging on Kim Kardashian. “That bitch should never wear white in public again,” she says. Bieber gets mildly indignant and sticks up for Kardashian. “You guys are so mean, bro…. People say she doesn’t do anything; she actually does do stuff…. She works hard.” Bieber is, of course, wrong, but it’s easy to see why he sticks up for Kardashian. For one thing, they once did a photo shoot together, which naturally makes them best celebrity friends forever. And he surely knows what it’s like to be hated by people who’ve never met you. Unlike Kardashian, though, Bieber is legitimately talented. He has something to offer the world. He wants to be a real artist. He wants respect.
It’s almost midnight, and Bieber is going home now. But before he leaves, he pokes his head into the break room to yell, “GOOD NIGHT, BITCHES!” Melissa, the PR lady, winces. But she shouldn’t. That, right there, is a proper 18-year-old, someone who probably knows how to draw an excellent d*ck on a grease board. To be a real man, you gotta be a real boy first.
Okay, buat lo yang ga ngerti bahasa Inggris ya, atau masih tidak terlalu paham, ada beberapa hal yang harus digarisbawahi. Si Justin itu gampang banget ke-distract alias teralih pikirannya. Kalo dia diem bentar aja, dia bisa nyanyi-nyanyi ga jelas gitu, mulai dari lagunya sendiri atau apalah. Udah gitu, si Justin kan bawa Fisker Karmanya ke West Coast custom gitu, dan well pas ditanya kenapa dia ga bawa ke Platinum - bengkel tempat costumized mobil juga - Justin bilang: Fuck Platinum. Yeah well buddy, he's not as nice as what you think, but I mean, he's a normal boy aite? Dan namanya bule, wajar banget kale bilang kata itu.
Oh, and yeah, mobilnya itu dikasi 3 Hi-def TV, computer dock, studio mini gitu yang udah lengkap banget lah pokoknya di bagian kursi penumpang. Dan well, Allison Kaye, crew Justin bagian management itu bilang kalo itu cuma mainan murah yang yaah, paling ga sampe lah sejuta. Gue ga paham sama duit mantan gue --"
Oh dan yang bagian terakhir itu adalah bagian Justin ngebelain Kim Kardashian gitu, dan well, buktiin kalo Justin emang just a normal boy yang masih urakan dan seenaknya.
Okay, and here's the video ya guys :)
Behind the scenes of Justin Bieber’s GQ photo shoot!
xoxoxo
~ Ribka ~
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