Friday, October 31, 2008

Snake. Tail. Eat.


Even though my life in some ways could be summed up as a series of messes, I have few regrets, I think. That is, I spend a fair amount of time ruminating over spilled milk, but I tend not to get too committed to the idea that I shouldn't have done this or I shouldn't have done that, as then this or that other thing wouldn't have happened.

But one thing I do regret, in my sort of kind of way, was an opportunity that came up about five years ago that would have involved me sliding into producing. I think of it every once in a while, and I thought of it again today, reading this interesting profile about the head of Bravo by Susan Dominus.

Because my memory has the consistency of Swiss cheese, I can't remember the details much, but as I recall I was set up to meet with some director of programming at VH1. Like I said, this was several years ago, when VH1 played about as many music videos as MTV once did, and didn't really have much of an identity other than as being the ugly, less popular stepsister of MTV. As I recall, they wanted to reinvent the brand, and so someone there had come up with the idea of creating a kind of think tank of weird creative types, shoving us all together, and making us come up with ideas that would take the network to some sort of grand new heights. I thought it was a clever idea, a smart way of doing things, not something you encounter often in the world of TV production.

I met with the head, or VP, or whatever he was, and I met a woman who worked with him, who was very pretty, and very smart, and whom I liked very much. For reasons that I'm sure do nothing but testify to the black depths of my shallow soul, I'm better in meetings than I am in front of the computer. Something about shucking and jiving does it for me, I guess. How low I can go? In any case, I talked a lot of trash, as I am often wont to do in such types of situations, and I think at one point I informed him that he should hire me because he wouldn't find another woman who knew how to do this job, and I figured he was hard up to find a chick with balls to sink into his think tank, and I can't remember if he hired me then and there, but he hired me eventually.

Then, I went into the desert, and I got on a plane, and I had a revelation, and my life took another turn, and all kinds of other things happened, some of which were unspeakably awful and some of which were unspeakably wonderful, all of which changed me so radically that last night when I was watching a movie in which this woman said she had become a stranger to herself, I thought: That's about right.

Sometimes, I think about that job. If it would have led to something interesting, or if I would have been responsible for delivering "I Love New York" unto the masses. It's hard to say.

These days, there's something going on that I can't talk about, something that has caused me to consider things, things like U-turns and Ouroboros. Of course, choice is a fantasy. I'll go wherever the next wave throws me, hoping not to sink, or to swim, but to ride it.

Thursday, October 30, 2008

King Shit Of Turd Hill


"In my view, the leading expert in the country on the real inner workings of the porn industry is Susannah Breslin, a brilliant writer and reporter, who runs a blog called The Reverse Cowgirl. She systematically punctures everybody's bubble in this debate." -- "The Great Porn Misunderstanding"

Wednesday, October 29, 2008

Tuesday, October 28, 2008

Email


if i get ahold of [redacted], ill pass the new one along... good luck with whatever trouble youre  getting yourself into... :)

more importantly, i wanted to wish you congrats on finishing the first draft of your novel... i always look forward to the moment when im able to hold the whole thing in my hands, only then does it finally feel real, that all the time i spent going out of my mind actually led to something tangible, and its the first moment when i can finally exhale a breath that feels like its been held in for what seems like eternity...

as always id like to offer up a passage from my oft mentioned favorite tome, paul auster's invention of solitude... its probably my favorite quote from a book filled with mind blowing quotes, i even used part of this one to end a screenplay... it feels appropriate in regards to the theme of the last post and keeps things firmly rooted in a brooklyn state of mind...

"For the past two weeks, these lines from Maurice Blanchot echoing in my head: 'One thing must be understood: I have said nothing extraordinary or even surprising. What is extraordinary begins at the moment I stop. But I am no longer able to speak of it.'  To begin with death. To work my way back into life, and then, finally, to return to death."

'nuff said...

Monday, October 27, 2008

Terminating The Ghosts


Yesterday, I finished my novel. The manuscript needs a great deal of editing, in my opinion, and some rewriting. But the bulk of the work is done.

My advice to aspiring novelists: Don't.

When my father's final book, a biography of the abstract expressionist painter Mark Rothko, was published, my father wrote an essay that appeared in the New York Times Book Review. Of all the things my father wrote, this is my favorite, because it is the most personal. Entitled "Terminating Mark Rothko: Biography Is Mourning in Reverse," it's a first-person essay about my father, his father, how the death of my paternal grandfather affected my father, how sometimes writing a biography is like an attempted resurrection, and what it's like to live one's life haunted by the looming specter of one's dead father.

Suffice to say, it's a story with which I am familiar.

At the time of my father's death, a year and a half later, he had shifted gears professionally from his originally trajectory. For several decades, he was an English professor at UC Berkeley, but when he died, he had become chairman of the art practice department there. In the wake of his death -- from a heart attack, like his father before him, who had died while taking the Flatbush Avenue IRT to work one day -- the department created a memorial art installation. A series of rooms were painted what everyone called a Rothko blue. There was a small room with a desk and a chair and my father's book on the desk. On the walls, there were essays my father had written, blown up large, so one could read them. One was the "Terminating" essay, and I kept that oversized copy of it. After I finished my novel, I got the essay out again, because there was a line in it that I wanted to revisit, or remember, or something to that effect.

In the essay, my father equates the act of writing with a failed resurrection, "as if a biographer were a paramedic administering decade after decade of CPR to a patient he refuses to admit he has lost." Near the end, he recalls finishing the book: "As I neared completion of 'Mark Rothko: A Biography,' I imagined typing the last sentence at 2 o'clock in the morning, stepping out of my study into my backyard, and rolling around ecstatically on the grass under the apple tree. Instead, I dispatched the manuscript to my publisher, and I felt nothing."

I'm not yet ready to dispatch my own manuscript to my agent, but that's about how it felt to finish my novel. Ultimately, I didn't feel much of anything. In the apartment next door, someone was playing the drums. The late afternoon sun was seeping through the curtains. I could hear a child playing outside on the sidewalk, and a car drove by at a high rate of speed, and then there was nothing but silence.

Friday, October 24, 2008

Weekend!


Oh, what a week! Before we go, I wrote about some chicks humping for Obama, how maybe the Sartorialist has a book, and I'm going to start doing some blogging over at the Huffington Post next week. I hope you have an awesome weekend because you're an awesome person, and you shouldn't sit around hiding your awesomeness under a bushel of hay. [Image via Nevver]

Thursday, October 23, 2008

Maxim for Women [Updated]


Oh my goodness, this sounds awesome. Spiers is a smarty. Can't wait to read it. [Gawker]

Update: She says more here.

Barack Obama's Soul [Updated]


Today on Slate's The XX Factor, I praise Obama and kick Palin to the curb. I really love this photo--it's telling, no? More are here.

Update: BTW, if it must be pointed out, as I suppose it must, in light of this and several emails, I'm well aware of this. If the Obama photo is an homage, a redux, or a "manipulation," it makes no difference to me. For some, I suppose, it's easier to get heated over the politics than be moved by the humanity.

CNBC Does Hookers


CNBC! High-end call girls! When will the fun end? Vicky Ward says some not totally retarded stuff, but she's so botoxed up, it's distracting. Oh! I just realized I know someone who's on the show. Fascinating. Anyway, debuts November 11.

Wednesday, October 22, 2008

Clog My Blog


So, a couple weeks ago, the marketing person at a big company emailed me, and said he wanted to design a special ad just for this blog, something provocative. Anyway, I said yes. Because I am nothing if not for sale. They're working on it, and it's just about done, as I understand it, and the last thing I heard was it features exposed female boobs. Exciting, I suppose, if you're into that sort of thing. So, prepare to witness the slow transformation of this blog into a clog. It couldn't be happening at a better time, really.

Shoot 'Em Up Palin


My latest post at Slate's The XX Factor is about Sarah Palin, gun lover, and how pink guns are the new black. Don't tell me this lil' girlie pistol isn't cute. I know I want it.

Chuck Palahniuk's Haunted Optioned


Cinematical reports Chuck Palahniuk's Haunted has been optioned. Considering how I felt about the last piece of Palahniuk I encountered, I can't say I'm really over the moon regarding this latest development. Since Haunted contains an infamous story about a guy whose bowels are sucked out of himself by a swimming pool's water filtering system while he's masturbating, I wonder what they'll be handing out as schwag. Fox Searchlight gave out anal beads for "Choke." Maybe "Haunted" audience members will get a Prolapsed Rectum Fix-It Kit.

Tuesday, October 21, 2008

This Is Totally Better Than Those Fox Searchlight Anal Beads


As part of my ongoing reign of terror as a guestblogger at Slate's The XX Factor blog-for-the-ladies, I posted about how I got My Very Own Private Sarah Palin Love Doll. True story! You could fact check it if you could see the semi-deflated Palin inflatable sex doll sitting in the corner near my desk.

Like I said in the post, I looked out the window this AM, and there was the FedEx truck leaving, and I was like OH MY GOD. So I ran downstairs, and because God loves me, I found a note on the door, and the nice delivery man had left my box with my Sarah Palin doll in it behind a potted plant. Anyway, she was hell to blow up--hell, I tell you!--and it gave me a headache. To be perfectly honest, she never fully inflated--partly because my head hurt and partly because I think she has a hole in her left armpit, and there's, like, something wrong with her, where, like, her right arm will not inflate. Very difficult!

If you're a perv, and you are because you read this blog, don't think I'm fool enough to think you come here for my "deep thoughts," you should know that she has, like, a Xeroxed on face of, like, some random chick with brown hair, and a hole for, ya' know, in her mouth, and a hole for, you bet, in her crotch, and a hole for, ooh, she does that, too?, in her butt. My design complaint, and I am sure all kinds of inflatable sex doll designers are reading this with baited breath and wondering what I'll say next, is that, like, the painted on thong thing she's wearing is blue. Shouldn't it have been red? As the kids say: I'm just sayin'.

Anyway, I assure you with the utmost sincerity that nothing untoward happened between me and My Own Private Sarah Palin Love Doll. Except for when she was lying on the floor, and I gave her a kick, which gave me a certain kind of pleasure, assuredly, although it was mostly political and not at all sexual.

In any case, if you want to find out what Sarah Palin and Gloria Steinem have in common, according to me, you can read all about it.

Hey, Ya' Dumb Bitch


Sometimes I read things online about publishing people who passed on book proposals that I sent out in the distant past, and all my suspicions about them being total fucking idiots are confirmed. [Gawker]

Rape in Congo


This week, I'm guestblogging at Slate's blog for women, The XX Factor, and my first post is on the current state of the rape epidemic in Congo. Times reporter Jeffrey Gettleman returned to the area one year after his original report and finds the situation has changed--somewhat. It's a must-read.

A year ago, when Gettleman's original story ran, I posted about the Congo issue. Then, it was challenging to figure out how one could help. Since, Vagina Monologues creator Eve Ensler has gotten involved. You can learn more, get involved, or donate here.

If you're interested in helping the world, but you want to keep it domestic, the Young Women's Empowerment Project is a Chicago-based non-profit that offers support to young women, ages 12 to 23, who are sex workers and/or impacted by street economies. It appears their online donation system isn't working right now, but last weekend I donated $100 by snail mail. For some time, I didn't have a lot. Now, I am lucky enough to have more. Things are hard all around, but for some things are harder than others.

Monday, October 20, 2008

Feisty


This is Feist's new video for "Honey, Honey." I swear I was listening to this on "Morning Becomes Eclectic" in 2005. Is that possible, or am I having flashbacks again?

Frisky


If you want to keep tabs on what I post to The Frisky, which I'll be doing more of, starting this week, you can use this handy link.

Email


Just Started Reading...

and find your musings engaging.

You describe moments in porn that reveal, if not beauty, humanity. I feel a connection with that thought.

I was a professional seaman for several years. I loved being at sea. When I started, I was infatuated with the stories. Sailors, like many people at the fringes, have amazing stories. I spent long periods of time in close quarters with them. It was very different from the military in that many of these people had lives, few had discipline, and all had money. I have remarked in the past that romantics, broken dreamers, and psychopaths go to sea. It is true. The sea gets everything that cannot hold on and is washed from land.

So, why the connection. People, in many ways more personalities than real human beings, at sea are a collection of extremes. It is as though the middling portions of their characters fall away and one piece of their self becomes dominant. There was beauty and truth in that. I could see what happens to a person if one facet of their personality became their entire being. Truth, because it showed me, in a small and focused way, how the human mind works. Many people I know, now, do not think it is possible for a person to believe that (fill in your blindness here). I believe it and I have likely seen it run amok.

But, I noticed a trend in that people who go to sea beyond a certain time stay at sea. They "get the sea in their blood." True. They get golden handcuffs (make too much money to move to another industry). Also true. Mostly, the rest of life does not offer the rush, peace, and truth of going to sea. I got out, but I think back on it continuously.

I say that it was an incredible lifestyle, but not a life.

The longer I spent away from the sea-going community, the more I realize how hard I had gotten. How wounded I was by what I saw and heard. How damaged I was becoming. Still, when I dream, I dream of the sea.

I see connections to some of what you say about the porn industry. That, and sailors are addicted to porn.

Be peace.

[Redacted]

Friday, October 17, 2008

Guestblogging At Slate.com


Next week, I'll be guestblogging at Slate.com's blog for women, The XX Factor. Thank you to Hanna Rosin for inviting me. Of course, I'll be blogging here, too. Have a great weekend. Because you never know when there'll be another one quite like this one.

Thursday, October 16, 2008

Anthony Ventura Art For Sale


As I've mentioned here before, Anthony Ventura is an artist/illustrator friend of mine, who does truly great work. A few years ago, we collaborated on a project called The Fetish Alphabet, for which I would write flash fictions about strange fetishes and for which Anth created amazing artworks for every letter. These days, Anth is selling prints of some of his amazing work in his new online store, and I just received my very own print of Kentucky Fried Woman, which is the artwork Anth created for "A Is for Anthropophagy." It is a limited edition, archival quality giclee print, and it is absolutely beautiful. In addition to his Evolve-R blog, Anth has more recently launched The Skullshire Girls blog, featuring "a gaggle of young women from the town of Skullshire." In any case, if you need any motivation in supporting the arts, read Malcolm Gladwell's "Late Bloomers," because sometimes what sustains a great artist is you.

Wednesday, October 15, 2008

The Porn Fixer [Updated]


I was going to post something long and complicated about Sasha Grey being picked to star in Steven Soderbergh's "The Girlfriend Experience," but then I was like, eh, fuck it. And then I wrote that, and I was like, eh, fuck that.

In terms of media cycles, coverage of porn goes up and down, so to speak. Over the years, I've tried to figure out if there's some kind of pattern to it. I think there may be regular pops in porn reportage in the spring and the fall. Maybe it's something in the air. Or your pheromones. Or the stock market.

In the last year, I've gotten more sex-related queries from various big money entertainment entities than ever before. At one point, I talked to one of the guy's who wrote the Soderbergh movie, one more Hollywood hustler, who interrupted me so many times in his quest to get the digits of some high-end call girls for his research "process" that he made me feel like Temeka Lewis to his Eliot Spitzer. And there are other stories like that I can't talk about yet, if ever. That's how it goes, I suppose.

Now that porn's gone mainstream, big money is looking to cash in on the sex trade game. A decade ago, it wasn't like that. They wouldn't touch you with a ten-foot pole. Now they say: Tell me what you know. Somehow, I've been cast in the role of their fixer. ("When bombs are falling and western journalism is the only game left in town, 'fixers' are the people who sell war correspondents the human tragedy and moral outrage that makes news editors happy.")

In the end of this story, the fixer ends up feeling like a border patrolman between two countries where everybody stays on their own side, but they spend all their time looking over the wall at the other side. Mostly, I watch what I say. Want to find out what's in the jungle? I want to tell them. Take a trip up the river, motherfucker. What am I? I'm not your fixer. But then I just answer the phone, tell another story, get another headache, put my head under the water, and wonder when it ends.

Update: Celebrities.com has footage of Soderbergh directing Sasha (who is misidentified) in "The Girlfriend Experience" on the streets of New York City. [via AVN]

Update 2: And here's the Variety item.

Tuesday, October 14, 2008

Extreme Associates Trial Date Set


The Extreme Associates new trial date has been set for March 16, 2009, in Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania (via AdultFYI). United States v. Extreme Associates originally went to trial in 2005. Ultimately, the 10 federal obscenity charges against Robert Zicari, aka Rob Black, and Janet Romano, aka Lizzy Borden, were dismissed. On Valentine's Day, 2005, now former US Attorney General Alberto Gonzales was sworn in by George W. Bush, and five days later in his first public opinion on a legal matter, Gonzales declared that he would be seeking to have the charges against Extreme reinstated; in December of 2005, that's exactly what happened.

Now, some five years after the Bonnie and Clyde of Porn Valley were indicted, the Feds are going to trial--again. This time around, the pornography at hand includes "Cocktails 2," "Extreme Teen 24," and "Forced Entry -- Director's Cut," which was directed by Borden and the primary theme of which is "Rape." In a 2001 interview, Borden said of the work for which one imagines she will be best known in perpetuity: "I'm doing this movie, 'Forced Entry,' that you will just rip apart. It's six scenes of pure rape. No pleasure at all. It's based on Richard Ramirez. The guys rape and kill the girls. We're actually trying to get in touch with him actually. There is a scene with Luciano fucking a girl, as he kills her, he looks at the camera and says 'that's for you Richard, you're my idol.'" In an interview with "Frontline," Borden stated of her extreme oeuvre:

You do tough stuff?

It's pretty controversial.

Why is it controversial?

Because society -- Republicans and society, and the Democrats -- don't like this type of thing. They like everybody to be nice and lovey and dovey and flower-power. And that's not the real world. This is real.

So what is this scene going to have in it that's controversial?
[Editor's Note: In conjunction with this interview, a FRONTLINE film crew was allowed on the set as Borden filmed and directed scenes for a new Extreme Associates production.]

A girl being kidnapped, being forced to have sex against her will, being degraded. Being called "a cunt, a whore, a slut, a piece of shit." Then being butchered at the end, and spit on. She's being degraded.

And whose idea is this?

Mine.

[...] And where does this come from inside of you? ...

When I was a child, my step-father was an alcoholic. So I think I had deep issues, and this is kind of therapeutic for me, to take my aggression out on other people. So in a way, I'm exploiting people, taking all my inner demons and aggression on them. But it's good for me. So I guess that's all that matters. ...

Monday, October 13, 2008

Pages


Tonight, I reached a page count in my novel that I've been aiming for, a number that suggests to me being over the hump of it, and hopefully resulting in some momentum while running downhill to the finish line. There's a ways to go, though, so we'll see how it goes. So far, it's been a grind most of the way. Lately, the most literary of music helps. All I know is that writing a novel is a b-i-t-c-h. Going in, you think you know, because you've read one or two or a hundred, but you realize about thirty pages deep that you have no clue what you're doing. It's like entering a haunted house but the car jumps the track, and you can't tell what's real and what isn't, if the story is what's crazy or if it's you, and the only recourse isn't lying on the bed with a pillow on your head but keeping on going. As of late, there's been a lot of pornography, a lot of dead bodies, and lot of the great sprawling cement mess that is Los Angeles. (Willard: "When I was here, I wanted to be there. When I was there, all I could think of was getting back into the jungle.") At some point, you start telling yourself you're engaged in some cathartic shit, when the reality that you stumble upon later on is that the skeleton in the closet is you. There's a frog on my desk, there's a sky that looks like it's on fire, and what's running through my mind is: "Baudelaire: Il me semble que je serais toujours bien la ou je ne suis pas. In other words: It seems to me that I will always be happy in the place where I am not. Or, more bluntly: Wherever I am not is the is the place where I am myself. Or else, taking the bull by the horns: Anywhere out of the world."

Friday, October 10, 2008

Passing The Torch


Tracy Clark-Flory has penned a strong piece for Salon on the sorry state of sex writing today: "Sex Writing Goes Limp." Lately, a bunch of people got to sounding the death knell for sex writing. My opinion, which is quoted in the piece already, is that if the emphasis was on writing rather than sex, there wouldn't be so much caterwauling. If you can't write to save your life, you're fucked, right? Susie Bright and Carol Queen spawned us, but if what we wrought is Julia Allison, who uses the term "gonzo journalism" to describe sitting through New York fashion week, God help us all. I'm praying for a new generation of writers--who happen to write about sex. My money's on Clark-Flory. She's a reporter first, and her subject (sex) is second. You go, girl. Fuck the sexperts.

Thursday, October 09, 2008

What It Is


"Therapy, therapy is vomiting things up. Art is about eating your own vomit." -- Art Spiegelman

Wednesday, October 08, 2008

Bad Meaning Bad Or Bad Meaning Good?


Once again, Virginia Heffernan, writing in the Times, gets it wrong. In "Character Issues," she takes on the TV drama as long-running movie phenomenon: "The Sopranos," Mad Men," "In Treatment." She writes: "In the Chase paradigm, a show’s main character must be fundamentally evil, and this evil must undermine the tenacious American fantasy that there are morally responsible roads to power and moreover that the achievement of power is itself a moral responsibility." This is so wrong as to be asinine. The compelling potential of a show like "The Sopranos"--or "Mad Men," for that matter--especially when it ventures into the male interior, is that it explores a place where bad men do what good men dream. More importantly, and consequently, these men are not, in fact, "bad" at all; they are good. They may plunder, kill, cheat, lie, backstab, and hustle, but if we did not love Tony, we would not love "The Sopranos." We enjoy the transgressive pleasures of watching him move through the world with bat-swinging impunity because this is the stuff of which we dream in secret, and we know in our hearts that he's good--in spite of himself, in spite of these deeds--or so we hope. Because if he isn't, we're lost. Of course, there's no real parallel between Don Draper and Tony Soprano--other than Matthew Weiner. Don is a shadow that seeks to be what Tony was. All self-suppression and perfectly polished angst, Draper remains artfully composed, even when he slips. Tony, on the other hand, wasn't afraid to get his hands dirty--even when it came to body matter--yet he remained a hero because he did it with heart.

Tuesday, October 07, 2008

More On Max


Yesterday, I wrote a post about the recent sentencing of adult director Paul Little, aka Max Hardcore. My original post is here. Xeni Jardin has posted more about the case here. Today, I've posted some of the feedback I received on the post.
"I greatly enjoyed reading your take on the Paul Little/Max Hardcore decision, but I can't really agree with the way that you engaged with Glenn Greenwald's argument. Mentioning Matt Hale's other crimes does nothing to lessen the principle of universally-protected freedom of speech outside of those crimes, and your construction could leave a reader with the impression that Greenwald defended Hale for his crimes rather than his speech. That's too bad, but I also think there's a disconnect when you wrote, 'In 1964, US Supreme Court Justice Potter Stewart opined famously of pornography: "I know it when I see it." In Greenwald's case, one would imagine it would be hard to know what one has seen if one has not, in fact, seen it. If one hasn't seen "it," how can one know what one has seen?'

But Stewart's standard - which was no standard at all, anyways, just whim - is no longer the law of the land. Rather, it's the Miller test -

* Whether the average person, applying contemporary community standards, would find that the work, taken as a whole, appeals to the prurient interest,
* Whether the work depicts/describes, in a patently offensive way, sexual conduct or excretory functions specifically defined by applicable state law,
* Whether the work, taken as a whole, lacks serious literary, artistic, political or scientific value.

The work is considered obscene only if all three conditions are satisfied.

Greenwald's entire point in discussing the farcical proceedings that convicted Little is that they specifically selected a venue for prosecution best suited to clearing that first hurdle:

'Even though he lived and worked in California, the Bush DOJ dragged him to Tampa, Florida in order to try him under Tampa's "community standards," on the theory that his website used servers physically based in Central Florida and some of the films were sent to Tampa customers who purchased them.'

And that's no legal standard at all - that's the whim of men, and most specifically men with a very particular kind of agenda regarding any and all public expressions or discussions of sex and sexuality - repulsive or otherwise. I think that the way to address this is not by a rigged judicial process but by passing better obscenity laws that have in mind as their first principles not moral scolding but the protection of porn performers, and that clearly lay down what is accepted and what is not rather than leaving those judgments to the whim of a given prosecutor. Those laws may or may not survive challenges on First Amendment grounds - but if they're written with the involvement (doesn't have to be overtly public, of course) of the adult industry, then there wouldn't have to be legal challenges. Judgments like this one make a pretty convincing case that keeping these issues out of the courts would be a far preferable outcome.

cheers,
jkd"

*

"You're right, of course.

But whenever this kind of thing comes up -- that is, whenever people point out the (usually hypocritical) relationship between our expressions of shock and outrage about porn and the fact that the product is popular -- I think about this quote, from late British physicist, David Bohm:

'Good theories, unlike bad ones, are true; but only up to a certain point.'

In context, he was referring to the transition from Newtonian principles to quantum mechanics (Newton's still right...but only up to a certain point. Beyond that, quantum physics carries on).

So when you say that Little's carnival of degradation is Who We Are I'm inclined to say yes, but only up to a certain point. I notice that no-frills videos of people just screwing (no dog bowls, no clown makeup, no magic marker labeled bodies, no insults) are popular too but seldom discussed in such an ominous way (except by the fundies -- described by Zizek as not real fundamentalists since they're apparently so unsure of their beliefs they need to police outside behavior).

Greenwald's first amendment defenses aside, I'm not sorry Little's being punished. He deserves some judicial shock and awe. As a porn viewer, I always hated his stuff, and long wondered why he hadn't been successfully prosecuted. For me, the suspension of disbelief was impossible while watching his videos. They only made me want to hit Little with a baseball bat (a type of arousal, but probably not what he was aiming for). You'll probably agree that porn is primarily an aid for masturbation (the Freudians discuss the psychoanalytic aspects, the Marxists discuss the labor exploitation elements and the Feminists decry objection and male gazes but for most of us, it's just a way to add a bit of wattage to the daily wank). Well, for that to work, it has to mostly be your fantasy.

And while I have no trouble getting wound up at the thought of say, spending some time with 'Penny Flame', for me, the inclusion of all that extreme bullshit shatters the illusion that 'this could be you and your tongue, your dick and hands at this awesome party'.

Not because I'm such a principled guy (though I'd like to think I'm far less megalomanical than Little and fellow travelers) but, more fundamentally, because degradation is not what I call a good way to spend Saturday night -- either in my actual bed or as a spectator watching an LCD screen.

The point being of course, that Little, in his max Hardcore persona, is certainly a part of the collective id.

But only a part.

Dwayne M.

*

"... Not that I know that much more about porn, but I did grow up in Porn Valley and am definitely fascinated by the business of porn, its legal issues, the lives of the performers, and all the questions of exploitation and agency (of women AND men). I can never make up my mind about it, but I always feel like my physical proximity to it gives me some claim over it. I went to Chatsworth High School and grew up in Canoga Park so I think in a lot of respects I am kind of inured to porn culture, or at least its aesthetics... big fake boobs and plastic lips and orange tans were de rigueur, though I guess now they are kind of an American standard.

Also: When I first started at [redacted], [redacted] did a shoot on a porn set in Canoga Park that was 2 blocks from the apartment I lived in during high school (a period of my life in which I went to church probably about 3-4 times a week and so didn't have much time to ponder all the unmarked warehouses in the 'hood) and so of course I talked my way into going along with them. I still haven't fully processed my day there. But ironically, I did have a keen sense of being regarded as a bit of a novelty, or being watched for my reaction - 'Isn't she cute, her first time on a porn set... how do you feel?' - and at one point, I was on the set, the only woman in the room besides the performer (mid-coitus) in a room with half a dozen male PAs, who kept looking over at me. I felt icky - not about the porn that was being filmed in front of me, but because I was being watched - and then I felt like a wimp and a hypocrite for feeling icky. It was very confusing.

I actually thought of Susannah's writing then and wondered how she is able to do it without becoming part of the narrative. Maybe it comes with time, like she was an 'embedded journalist,' or she went so many times that she managed to become like a part of the set so no one noticed her and then she was not self-conscious, either. I always really liked that she didn't feel the need to make the porn story about her and her own feelings, but the presentation of facts was still really nuanced and good and made me feel something, and made me feel that she felt something there.

[Redacted]"

*

"'To the Max' was... one of those most brilliant and heart-wrenching essays I've read about 21st century porn in recent memory.

I am in awe of you.

Eric [Spitznagel, co-author of Ron Jeremy: The Hardest (Working) Man in Showbiz]

*

"... I first read about his sentencing in Andrew Sullivan's blog, while I was I trolling for new ways to hate Sarah Palin. The link went to Salon, where I read what you read, about consenting adults and all that. By those lights, it's sort of like they're busting Andrew Blake for having his starlets wear Ray-Bans. Yours is the only piece of writing on the subject that begins to explicate the complexities of the question: should we mourn the prosecution of Paul Little? Should we be outraged? If so, why? Because, as you know, if the allure of porn is that, Hey, they're not fakin' -- they're really doin' it!, then the allure of Max Hardcore is that he's not fakin' it either. These are not fictional portrayals of sexual torture and humiliation. They're really doin' it! And we're watchin'. Wow! So the interesting thing about Max Hardcore -- and porn itself, I guess -- is not that it represents an idea, of some sorts, objectionable to some, unobjectionable to others. It represents something that actually happened, or is happening, somewhere in space and time. There is nothing meta about it. So the idea is less obscene than the actuality. But then, how can you bust the guy on obscenity charges, which are all about the portrayal? Which are all about the idea at the root of the portrayal? I mean, once you call it 'obscenity,' then you can turn around and call its suppression 'censorship.' You don't censor a guy like Paul Little. You stop him. But how do you stop a guy who's got the camera running and who traffics in images? That's the question. If he was
standing on the street corner, offering to pay youngish girls for sex, and then getting them to play out a full-blown Max Hardcore scene, you could probably bust the guy on charges of assault, cruelty, etc. But the fact that he's filming it....and that people are watching it...and paying for it....well, it makes the whole situation as complicated as you describe. You know, I was reading 'A Good Man is Hard to Find' the other day, when the Misfit blames the whole thing on Christ, saying that he threw everything out of balance. Well, Max is the Misfit. But the thing that threw the whole thing out of balance is the Camera. Its bland eye permits all. Until yesterday. Until today. And so is the sentencing of Paul Little to four years in stir a strike at the eye which offends thee, or is it a strike at what the eye saw?"

Monday, October 06, 2008

To The Max


Last Friday, adult director Paul Little, aka Max Hardcore, was sentenced to 46 months in prison. Back in June, Little had been found guilty on 20 federal counts of distributing obscene material over the internet and through the US mail. At his sentencing in Tampa, Florida, where federal agents had bought the materials in question, Little asked Judge Susan C. Bucklew for what appeared to be mercy. "I didn't realize I'd made a mistake," he told the court. "My entire life I've been trying to do the right thing by people and by the law." A sentiment to which Judge Bucklew replied: "Mr. Little, I find this almost incredible."

Indeed, Little's porn story is more that of a man who wanted to find out how far he could push the law before it snared him. Since the early Nineties, he has committed himself to exploring the farthest reaches of the pornographic frontier. As an auteur, he came into his own in the golden age of gonzo-porno. With the advent of video, porn was delivered into any American home with a video player. Meanwhile, any aspiring pornographer who could get his hands on a video camera could shoot low budget porn on the fly. Alongside his peers in the movement--John "The Buttman" Stagliano and Adam "Seymore Butts" Glasser among them--Little was the dick-for-hire star of his own lo-fi productions. Yet while Stagliano and Glasser inhabited oversexed personalities on camera, who reveled in the pleasures of sexually adventurous lives shot cinéma vérité style, Little, armed with a half-crazed grin, a George W. Bush cowboy hat, and a set that consisted primarily of a yellow sofa, appeared hellbent on taking human sexuality to the outer limits. At a time when the Clinton administration was taking a mostly hands-off approach to obscenity prosecutions, and the Wild, Wild West of the Internet meant distribution was easy and censorship was turning into an antiquated concept, extreme porn became the new new thing.

In Max Hardcore movies--"Anal Agony," "Hardcore Schoolgirls," "Max! Don't Fuck Up My Mommy!"--women are verbally and physically degraded in an unprecedented myriad of ways. They are choked, slapped, throat-fucked, penetrated with fists, given enemas, pile-driven, urinated upon, vomited upon, and in some instances instructed to drink from glasses the money shots that have been delivered into their rectums. Most of the time, Little as Hardcore is the perpetrator of these acts. Not infrequently, his scenes are fraught with pedophilia themes, beginning when he stumbles upon his subjects in playgrounds, where they sit alone, in pigtails, talking baby-talk, and sucking on lollipops. Mostly, the sex scenes end with his latest costar a mess and Hardcore triumphant. Even for the most jaded porn watcher, Little's ouevre is over the top. Watching Little's work is less like watching a porn movie than it is akin to witnessing a vivisection. On the screen, Hardcore bends over the female bodies before him, sometimes with speculum in hand, as if attempting to get at something within her at which he can never quite get, and so to which he is doomed to return, his methods more and more hardcore.

In Porn Valley, Little is something of a pariah. The larger, more mainstream-oriented and consumer-friendly adult production companies like Vivid Video and Wicked Pictures pride themselves on turning out adult content that plays by the rules, thereby, they hope, protecting the industry from legal persecution. In contrast, Little and company, other producers believe, put the entire industry at risk by creating content more likely to be targeted in obscenity indictments. (See: The Cambria List.) In 2005, the Bush administration launched its so-called "War on Porn," forming the Obscenity Prosecution Task Force, a Department of Justice outfit dedicated to pursuing obscenity prosecutions, and the FBI began recruiting for a "porn squad," otherwise known as the Adult Obscenity Squad, focused on "manufacturers and purveyors" of pornography. In late 2005, federal agents raided Little's offices in Altadena, California, but it wasn't until early 2007 that his indictment was unsealed. As it turned out, OPTF Director Brent Ward had found getting US Attorneys to pursue obscenity prosecutions wasn't easy. Consequently, US Attorneys who preferred dedicating their resources to crimes other than obscenity in districts more likely to win the administration obscenity convictions were eliminated. Late last year, the OPTF's first trial began in Phoenix, Arizona, pitting the US government against a producer of bukkake videos, but the result was an embarrassment, the pornographer slipping out of the government's hands in the courtroom. When it came to Little, prosecutors were gunning for a win. Finally, three years after the OPTF was formed, the Feds got their man.

According to Jezebel's Megan Carpentier, we've come a long way, baby, when it comes to porn. "Say what you will about pornography, objectification and exploitation, the growing legitimization of the pornography industry--which led to much more government- and self-regulation--also led to a significant decrease in the kind of exploitation described by those performers as well as increased opportunities for women to participate in the higher-earning aspects of the production." Where Carpentier came upon her theory regarding the current state of the adult movie industry is a mystery. One would have to assume her research didn't include watching this NSFW series of video clips, in which a young woman is gangbanged, instructed to crawl across the floor on all-fours while stating repeatedly, "I'm a fucking whore," and then directed to drink the contents of a dog bowl, the side of which reads "SHIT-HOLE," into which her costars have ejaculated. The video wasn't directed by Little; these days, extreme porn is everywhere you Google.

Of course, what we are talking about here is not the girl on the floor, but the letter of the law. Yesterday, former lawyer, Salon blogger, and bestselling author Glenn Greenwald, whose First Amendment client list included Matthew Hale, a neo-Nazi who mistakenly attempted to enlist an undercover FBI agent to kill a federal judge, posits the conviction and sentencing of Paul Little as the latest glaring example of Bush administration hypocrisy. According to Greenwald, porn consists of "films featuring only consenting adults and distributed only to those consenting adults who chose to purchase them." Ironically, Little's defense, Greenwald points out, is the same defense the Bush administration has used to defend interrogation techniques used on detainees: "because the acts in question didn't involve the infliction of severe pain, they weren't illegal." In the case of Little's videos, he asserts, "There was no suggestion that any serious violence was ever inflicted or that the adult actors in the film were anything other than completely consensual." In conclusion, he proclaims: "So, to recap, in the Land of the Free: if you're an adult who produces a film using other consenting adults, for the entertainment of still other consenting adults, which merely depicts fictional acts of humiliation and degradation, the DOJ will prosecute you and send you to prison for years."

Reading Greenwald's post, I wondered if he had ever watched a Max Hardcore movie. I sent him an email, asking if he had. A few minutes later, I received a reply. "No, I haven't. But I read about its content. Why?" I replied: "You should." He replied: "I really don't care what consenting adults do with one another in order to entertain themselves or please themselves sexually--I'm not a busy body trying to sit in judgment of what other adults choose to do with themselves, especially in their sex lives. Not even the Government claimed that these films involved minors or non-consent, so as far as I'm concerned, it's nobody's business what they do, and whatever they do isn't going to change my mind in the slightest." In 1964, US Supreme Court Justice Potter Stewart opined famously of pornography: "I know it when I see it." In Greenwald's case, one would imagine it would be hard to know what one has seen if one has not, in fact, seen it. If one hasn't seen "it," how can one know what one has seen?

On an online message board, a member who calls himself "Sick Fuck" posted an inventory of Max Hardcore's most extreme scenes. The list is long. Some of the videos were created for European distribution, where the market is more permissive, an argument Little used to defend the graphic nature of his videos to little effect in the Tampa courtroom. The litany of highlights includes urination, defecation, and vomiting, all of which appear repeatedly. As a matter of fact, the image located at the top of this post is a still from one such video, the European edition of "Planet Max 16." Her name is Summer Luv. In the scene, her costar, Catalina, who was Little's girlfriend, vomits on Summer. Their three-way sex with Little includes fisting and a mechanical device that holds Summer's mouth open as he ejaculates onto her face, upon which a clown smile has been drawn. The other extremely explicit, NSFW images can be found here. Because if you're going to talk about how far we've come when it comes to porn, if you're going to posit Paul "Max Hardcore" Little as the latest victim of the Bush administration, if you're going to lament one more strike against your First Amendment rights, you should bear witness as to what a porn star drenched in vomit looks like. Otherwise, you're blind when it comes to the hardcore realities of making porn in the 21st century. After all, as the bukkake video producer who squirmed out of the OPTF's grasp once told me: "If people didn't want it, it wouldn't be made." That is, if you didn't want it, they wouldn't make it. In the end, porn is the real American dream, and the dream is all yours.

Friday, October 03, 2008

Palin Gone Wild [Updated]

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Thursday, October 02, 2008

You're a Whore!


"If there's one thing I love about our business, it's the never-ending evaluation by your would-be financial benefactors. Writers are paraded before publishers like hookers at a Nevada whorehouse. They examine us with leering, bloodshot eyes, as they try to determine if we're worth the $100 for a handjob. And then comes my absolute favorite part, the inevitable skeet-shooting of your creative self-esteem. Mmmmm, that burning sensation means you're a professional writer." -- excerpted from an email by the always delightfully insightful Eric Spitznagel (Image via Nevver)

Wednesday, October 01, 2008

Letters from Johns: I Was Haunted


I've posted a new letter from a john.

It's "I Was Haunted."

Not recommended for the faint of heart, highly homophobic, or deeply religious.