Category: Uncategorized (Page 104 of 1041)

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Whoshungry, 23
Oink, just a piggy waiting to be someone’s lunch.

Comments

🐹🐶🦊🐼🐰🐨🐵🐱🦁🐻🐷🐮 – Aug 24, 2023
WANT TO BE MY BOILFRIEND?

Whoshungry (Owner) – Aug 20, 2023
Eat me while I’m young and hot.

Sexualmachine – Aug 20, 2023
Sure, wtf, I’ll do anything to learn and do do stuff I never did.

 

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Prisoner, 19
No sex. No edging, no bjs, kissing, anal, etc
Strictly into being put into prison uniform, handcuffed, shackled, tortured etc and permanent incarcerated.
again No sex.

Comments

Prisoner (Owner) – Aug 8, 2023
I’m on this site because my 5 years girlfriend cheated on me. Also my best friend of 8 years died of poison.

 

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destroymenow, 22
You like howling boys?
I’ve tried everything so nothing will scare me off.
I hate safe words. If I say no, don’t listen. Slap me in the face, shove a gag in my mouth and go even harder.
I’ll gag and choke and vomit all over your cock.
I have to keep my face okay due to work, but from the neck down is yours, punch me, flog me, break my bones, slice me up with a knife. Whatever you want.

Comments

slitneck1 – Aug 9, 2023
Welcome from a fellow sadist who’s had him, I think you will like it.

ScorpioStrangler – Aug 9, 2023
Thought that I would say hello to everyone as I am new to this site. I love to strangle and to maim boys as well as many other fetishes and rest assured they are all brutal. I also love to get into a boy’s mind and fuck with what is or isn’t there. I’m seriously considering this boy here. Any thoughts?

destroymenow (Owner) – Aug 3, 2023
I do struggle a lot with my mental health, and it’s something I’m slowly working on, sorting out through therapy and stuff, so sorry if I dip off the face of the earth. I try to be as upfront as possible, but sometimes it’s quite hard for me.

destroymenow (Owner) – Aug 3, 2023
I have little urges of getting snuffed, but they hardly last, but any fanciful threat to snuff me and I’ll be putty in your hands.

 

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writeifyouwant, 18
Hey y’all I’m Tim from Macon GA. I play fb in high school and love to get fucked in my gear. I do charge 40$.

Comments

writeifyouwant (Owner) – Aug 15, 2023
I want to understand all gay men.

Socialism – Aug 13, 2023
He’s an open book once you crack the spine a bit. Just so there’s no confusion, I’m more kinky than he was, which is fine. Just fact.

CallMeByYourDadsName – Aug 11, 2023
For almost a year now, I have been fucking him in his football uniform and I really like it.

 

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SexandChaos, 21
There is a way to turn any boy from slut to 100% straight into an apparently lifeless fucktoy to move from point A to point B or to use as a faux necrotoy. And NOT kill them. The way is to use injectable insulin.

Injecting him through the jeans will initially make him appear hopelessly drunk, before lapsing into unconsciousness. In a matter of minutes.

A moderate dose with produce a limp fucktoy. A higher dose will produce convulsions. With wrists secured behind the back you can mimic “death throes” and the anal sphincter and the cunt muscles will spasm with periodicity.

The coma can be safely reversed by a glucagon injection or glucose gell, to be given as an enema or used on the mucosa inside the mouth.

Chloral hydrate (knockout drops) and chloroform causes liver failure. Opiates induce respiratory failure and are likely to contain Fentenyl, and you will end of committing murder, which is not a desired outcome.

An insulin coma produces the perfect limp fucktoy.

Comments

CynicalUndead – Aug 6, 2023
Being a sadist is so exciting! Always so much to experience and so much to learn.

Woofywolf – Aug 6, 2023
Hit me up to claim a lean, young, shaved dead body from Seattle for your pleasure.

CaseZone – Aug 6, 2023

MysterySOCKS – Aug 6, 2023
Talking about nasty fantasies, mine is to stop my meds on purpose and stealth poz my very homophobic and serophobic 16 year old brother. Not to mention that he makes me crazy-hot. I’m 20.

Giving him some substances to make him sleep then having my partner filming me while my brother is senseless but his face is clearly visible on video.

Attack his hole till he bleeds copiously then slide in with a single thrust, my partner encouraging me to poz my own brother and after breeding him I write on his back “poz slut”.

Lock him in permanent chastity and when his flu hits, he becomes a slave for me, my partner and whoever I decide he has to be fucked by. Always on videos spreading around his straight friends while we beat the shit out of him everywhere.

 

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t3enagepigboy, 18
I am 18. I want my ass devastated by you, make sure that you have everything you need.

I LOVE butt plugs, huge toys, fists, household objects, weaponry, and the Grateful Dead.

I do not do scat unless you want mine.

Comments

Raindrop789 – Aug 12, 2023
As a side note, I work as a nurse. One of my patients was a well known former twink porn star who had gotten to a place where he could no longer reach back and digitally replace the prolapse and we had to do it for him.

MasterKenneth – Aug 11, 2023
He has a prolapse that is several inches long. He has so much control of it that, while I am rimming him, he can push it into my mouth and retract it back into him. Fucking my face with it. I love to do it — especially after I have shot a few loads in him. It tastes like flesh, like copper, and like blood. Makes sense due to what it is.

BEMYTOY – Aug 11, 2023
I have a question for Master Kenneth. My kinks have always had to do with gaping ass, I love to taste it and get my tongue as far in as possible, which is never far enough. But i have yet to be with a boy that can truly prolapse. I want to fuck one so bad, just let it unroll over my cock like a fuck sleeve and let it milk my dick. I want to suck on it, and just do every sexually deviant thing i can think of! I’m just taking a wild guess that you’ve sucked on this boy’s prolapse? Fucked his sleeve? Etc? How big is it? What does it taste like?

t3enagepigboy (Owner) – Aug 10, 2023
I’m now an owned cunt. I’ve been a slave since June and Master Kenneth has been in love with me the entire time. I have tried to escape but he says he is the love of my life and I have to give him everything. My money my mind my soul. He doesn’t care who knows. He is a sadist. He is a Republican. Republican is great. Whatever he requires of me I have to do. Ended all my relationships. Moved house. Left my job. Prostitute myself. He made me build a bed box with a lockable door where I am jailed when not in use. It turns out I’m quite handy with my hands and it looks awesome all painted black and screws hidden. Most importantly I have convinced him the Grateful Dead are great.

 

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Trumpwon, 19
I think Trump won

it was probably from a lab two. It came from a lab.

Wuhan is it is the sick

Here’s the thing, Trump one. This much we know. I eat diapers

He won.

Comments

backmeup – Aug 8, 2023
Shove his head in your booty and feed him some shit.

Meffistofeles – Aug 4, 2023
Don’t give him chems. It’s never a great sight to see.

Mrhijacker – Aug 4, 2023
I’m a Democrat and my fantasy is to cut your testicles off during an insane drug fuelled sex orgy.

 

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sadvulnerable, 18
Hi my big wish is to meet an evil old sadist here in Denmark who wants to facefuck me until I suffocate to death during sex or after without my bf knowing.

Before I lost my will to live I liked moody memoirs 80’s punks Gregg Araki had a big heart and a deep butt.

Welcome to disturb everyone.

Comments

Beeffranco – Aug 20, 2023
Ok but I hate sheep who tries to be the wolf, so don’t be stubborn bitch.

funwithlazers – Aug 18, 2023
You still have a deep butt.

sadvulnerable (Owner) – Aug 17, 2023
I’ve already gotten rid of my dick mentally.

Laird – Aug 16, 2023
“Find what you love and let it kill you” – Charles Bukowski

NecroHeadfucker – Aug 14, 2023
I have some questions for anyone here who might know the answers. If I were to do as he asks then decapitate him, how long would his head last? How long would the mouth be kissable? How long would the mouth be good for taking dick and cumming inside? If the mouth got dry, how much cum would make it wet again? Do you think spit, precum, cum, and blood all in a head’s mouth would make the inside incredibly fuckable? Why are women’s heads so fucking gross? Why are women so gross?

 

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imdeadinside, 19
I’m 19 and I’m a stoner and need something different in my boring ass life I’m very anti social but I really like to get stoned.

Comments

imdeadinside (Owner) – Aug 12, 2023
That was only because I was in a good mood.

IdRatherBeHereNow – Aug 12, 2023
I raped his throat, took his phone and drained his bank account as I had my dick in his throat. When I was done draining his account, I made him clean my house.

imdeadinside (Owner) – Aug 9, 2023
Not everything needs to end with me having a bruised neck.

WillemVerhelst – Aug 9, 2023
Taste of Hell in my soundproof basement seeking you to dance with the devil in it.

imdeadinside (Owner) – Aug 6, 2023
My hobby is building/painting miniatures for tabletop wargames.

 

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Twiggy, 19
i need someone intellectual to worship me and pay me and i will tell you what you can and can’t do.

Comments

Gaucho – Aug 19, 2023
What’s the catch LOL

Twiggy (Owner) – Aug 16, 2023
at a young age i realized that i am very attractive and i need accept my role in life and face the reality of what i am and what i have be been put on this earth to be.

 

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Alan&Jon, 19
Cuck me (overpower me and fuck my bf, make a video blah blah blah). But tie me up tight cos I’m insanely jealous and possessive and if you don’t I’ll fucking kill you.

Comments

Alan&Jon (Owner) – Aug 8, 2023
We were monogamous for the first six months of our relationship and it was an exhilarating and terrifying and period of my life. He then started fucking around and I decided I needed to place my possessiveness on hold in order to proceed in an “open” relationship. But I can’t push my jealousy and rage down any longer.

Alan&Jon (Owner) – Aug 7, 2023
For instance torture and destroy his big cock while you fuck him or while he sucks me off.

Alan&Jon (Owner) – Aug 7, 2023
Go rough on him or go home.

 

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LOOKINGFORDOGKNOTT, 19
Wanting to get fucked by a real DOG on film (no role play, I want real Zoophilia/ BEASTALITY). If you own a k9 msg me. Not really interested in the owner but you can lube my hole before your dog puts his KNOTT in it.

Comments

mortalcoil – Aug 23, 2023
Watching my dog fuck him was an intense and interesting experience that lit up undiscovered and underutilized neural pathways.

boynextwhore (Owner) – Aug 19, 2023
I’ve sucked human dick before but it was so small it wasn’t even fun.

 

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rapegaymer, 18
Good morning !
I introduce myself, my name is ****, 18 years old, follower of the vicious and black fantasy. As you may have guessed, my trip is being kidnapped.

The trick is simple, I am looking for one or more (preferably several) kidnappers for a long, meticulous plan.

The game is simple at the beginning, I give photos of me, information, and of course location and the kidnappers then decide how to disappear me without a trace and whack me on the head then do what they are worth carte blanche!

Looking forward to being whacked on the head and tied up in your trunk.

Comments

rapegaymer (Owner) – Aug 12, 2023
I’m willing to be sold as well!! I bet I could make a pretty penny for you guys!

LoveBeingaBastard – Aug 8, 2023
I held him captive for five days one time and he is completely no limits with the exception of asking him to kill someone.

rapegaymer (Owner) – Aug 3, 2023
I did have a device that shocked my self but something happened to it.

Tacticaljoe – Aug 3, 2023
I like kidnapping gay boys and I own weapons 🔫🔫🔪🔪💀💀💀💀

rapegaymer (Owner) – Aug 3, 2023
I want my life to always be on edge! PLEASE PUT ME IN DANGER! For all eternity!

 

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freshcutgrass, 18
Hi there I’m Jeremy! I’m a very open young person and go for what I want. I love kidnap scenes, and I fancy myself a new school Hardy Boy, as I love the idea of being a boy snoop who gets captured and tied up and … Truthfully I’ve never had sex at all, but I’m scary curious.

Comments

ExpandingHorizons – Aug 18, 2023
Sex with him is ridiculous; let’s accept it.

freshcutgrass (Owner) – Aug 9, 2023
I may seem like your run of the mill boy, but don’t let my goony exterior fool you when I am in Hardy Boy mode I am IN.

beautifulmaster – Aug 9, 2023
HE’S JUST A BOTTOM. I am SICK of horny bottoms pretending to be a slave because they are desperate for rough sex!

 

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ifdestroyedstilltrue, 22
I have been training this boy’s body and mind to become a perfectly mindless slave and it has completely changed his outlook. He currently has no limits at all so long as it’s gay. He’s still got a long journey to becoming the perfect slave but I know he can do it.

Comments

ifdestroyedstilltrue (Owner) – Aug 17, 2023
He’s up for most things just not stuff which massively damages him ahah you can whip his juicy bod as hard as you want but no knives nothing more than that for him so far ahaha. Sorry I’m a little drunk.

SixtyThreeCamels – Aug 17, 2023
Whats left on his journey?

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SatansDeathPerv, 18
I want to be abducted and forciably taken to remote location where I will raped and killed by cutting throat wide open to continue on cutting my head off and dismembering my body before gutting it and removing my organs. You and whomever else is there will have your meat ready for the grill and eating all my remains. I want to live long enough to observe my butchery before cutting my head off.

Comments

SatansDeathPerv (Owner) – Aug 5, 2023
Existing for eternity as the ROTTING DEATH SPAWN I AM.

Daemon66688 – Aug 5, 2023
SATAN OWNS YOU AND YOU’LL BE HIS SLAVE FOREVER BURNING IN HELL

SatansDeathPerv (Owner) – Aug 5, 2023
HAIL BLOODY BUTCHERED DEATH FOR SATAN

Daemon66688 – Aug 5, 2023
Looks as though we’re all to meet the same fate and probably meet up in Hell afterwards.

SatansDeathPerv (Owner) – Aug 5, 2023
I want my death and slaughter to be slow enough so that you can chew my bloody neck stump before I die.

Daemon66688 – Aug 5, 2023
In the middle of the night as I’m high as fuck, crowds watching … FUCK YES

SatansDeathPerv (Owner) – Aug 5, 2023
Do you seriously find me that enticing and hot that you would fuck and breed me then cut me up and eat me?

Daemon66688 – Aug 5, 2023
Hundreds of men as they watch me naked grunting fucking crawling sniffing eating you

SatansDeathPerv (Owner) – Aug 5, 2023
It’s all I have left to offer. I was born for this moment.

 

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Wierdguy, 20
straight most of the time but a butt fuck would be nice

Comments

gaytwinksneedit – Aug 24, 2023
But he needs to be super baked on weed while huffing deep hits of poppers.

gaytwinksneedit – Aug 24, 2023
First need to prove to him that you’re the Man in the room and that taking his hole is your right.

gaytwinksneedit – Aug 24, 2023
Skinny dude with a firm booty capable of wild multiple round action for a stamina-charged dude.

Grant7801 – Aug 21, 2023
420 over friendly, gets very excited about cookies

 

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Facingthefloor, 19
So many evil horny men with so many ways to enjoy using a boy like me!!

Men have been using me since I was 13. Some play rougher than others. Something about having a slim, pretty piece of fluff gets them all fired up! A pair of strong hands forcing me down, hot breath and sweat on my naked skin, spreading my cheeks…

I’ve a sugar sweet ass that takes fingers, tongues, toys, fists and fucking for as long as you want. Hole is still tight enough to grip your cock and ride you hard. When you grab me tight and I feel your huge cock shredding my hole, my ass will be starving.

I have been so lucky that a large number of super horny men have taken real care to show me just what I’m for. Being kept as a naked toy, collared and gagged, turned into a thing, hung up, tied down, mounted on the wall and from the ceiling.

If you want to any of this with me, I just need the word. Loving how being made into a true object is so freeing. Being displayed is something I adore! It’s so freeing! Being naked, perfect butt on show, tight body and sexy cock will give you so much pleasure. Just an object for you to look at, feel, taste, manhandle and exploit to the maximum.

My mouth has been trained to take a finger, a few more, a whole hand! Nothing is so raw as having my mouth stretched and my throat filled. It’s scary as well. When a man forces all the way and presses his powerful fingers into my tonsils, stopping me breathing, that is intense. Gagging and retching like a bitch as vomit fills my throat and pours from my gasping mouth! Then having him rub his vomit covered cock over my face and down my throat and made to swallow every warm sticky drop!

So much has happened to me and I want it never to end!

Comments

Facingthefloor (Owner) – Aug 18, 2023
I just don’t want to die, not my thing 🤷🏻

canIlickit – Aug 16, 2023
Gentlemen, I think it’s safe to say Jesus has finally returned to the earth.

Facingthefloor (Owner) – Aug 13, 2023
Your huge thick hairy daddy dick made my little blonde pussy so wet.

dirtyskeptic – Aug 13, 2023
That was me. I’m glad you remember.

Facingthefloor (Owner) – Aug 13, 2023
With just one guy? That would be my first Meth-Daddy. The first time I was introduced to T with a slam. He fucked me from ten o’clock in the morning until eight the next morning. There were three further slams at different points and some GHB. I came 5 times during with out ever touching my self and never got hard at all. The entire experience was incredible.

jXslut – Aug 13, 2023
What was your longest fuck session with a single guy?

 

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WhatsOnHere, 19
Tim, 19, perfume collector:)
I like slow deep kissing for a very long time, slow direct spit repeatedly into my mouth. Especially I really enjoy my lips and face to be licked.
I like being kissed when I’ve eaten something, especially when what I ate is very smelly.
I love when a man is sitting on my face for a long time and then licks my face slow for a long time.
I would love to be injected with a drug so I am numbed and not be able to move and have my face licked and mouth eaten out while I am numb. I really enjoy contact eye contact while that is happening 🙂
When my face is being licked and my mouth’s being eaten I like the men to gently pet my numbed body like I’m his little cat.
If men have a long tongue or long fingers to make me choke while kissing drooling lots of bile into his mouth is a hot plus.
After you finish I like you to make me vomit then roll me over face down in my vomit and inject me with something that makes me go to sleep🤍
I have a place but more into visiting yours.

Comments

Alvin66 – Aug 20, 2023
He is able to talk about various subjects, or on the contrary, be silent or shout.

 

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YourSacrifice, 20
BDSM cutting or scribing 🔪

For health reasons, I can at the moment only cut myself live in front of other people

Except: genitals, nipples, forearms, head and neck.

That should just about cover it.

Comments

jimmycontour – Aug 14, 2023
I caved.

 

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AssistedSuicide, 19
I am not sure when I am planning on doing it, but anyone interested enough perhaps will drop me a line? I want to die. I’ve been drinking myself to death since age 11 and I’m not even 20, so somebody out there let me know!!

Comments

AssistedSuicide (Owner) – Aug 25, 2023
I provide you drink and rape me, kill me.

AssistedSuicide (Owner) – Aug 21, 2023
Still open on the suicide if anyone wants it. You have to drunk with me though whiskey gallons please.

AssistedSuicide (Owner) – Aug 16, 2023
I have zero crypto my apologies, I need to get into it.

YourFaceKicked – Aug 16, 2023
Can you work with crypto? I would like to put some money in your account that you can leave to your loved ones.

AssistedSuicide (Owner) – Aug 16, 2023
Thank you for the kind words. But just the idea of a bloody death gets me off so hard, a disgustingly young life ended at the hands of a psycho gets me so insanely intimate in my mind.

Brightlight – Aug 16, 2023
Baby you so cute and in great shape so fucking young you have so much to live for even if it just for your looks.

AssistedSuicide (Owner) – Aug 16, 2023
That would be very hot yes, weeks? Maybe. Months? That would be a little long.

Anonyymist – Aug 16, 2023
Can I rape and torture you for weeks possible months before you are killed.

 

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Damagedgoods, 19
Hi, I come from the gutter, and me and my brother taught ourselves to survive. He’s my twin (not identical). Inspired by him, I want to become something more and think if I had the right mentor I could have more choices than McDonalds. I’m hoping that someone here wants a protégé to mould. I’m cute and smart, funny and obedient. I guess most of those are things people say about you rather than something you say about yourself but this is a bit of an interview so I feel I need to try to sell myself.

I’m not really looking for any pay-per-meet encounters anymore thank you. I’ve been around that block too many times. I want whoever picks me to have a long term opportunity to help me and support me, and I know he will need to have full power over me, and I offer it fully.

Comments

Orion395 – Aug 7, 2023
You really could have done this six months ago when you still looked like your photo.

 

 

*

p.s. Hey. ** Dominik, Hi!!! Yeah, I’m okay with getting by in stores and simple things, and I can read French a bit, but it’s still pretty sad. I would say my friend’s obsession is majorly with Ledger’s looks for sure, but I suppose he also likes the way his personality affects his surface. I think probably at least the great majority of taxidermists aren’t murderers, no, but … who knows, really, to be honest. Oh, maybe the American food store has salt water taffy, yes. Great suggestion, I’ll check. It’s really kind of dreadful stuff, but I’m craving it for some bizarre reason. Probably one nibble will be enough. Yes, tell me what the American candy store has. Oooh! Now I want cottage cheese dumplings too, or at least your leftovers. Love helping Zac and me figure out how to make the haunted house section of our film work right because it’s being very, very stubborn at the moment, G. ** T. J., You too, cool. ‘Little Buddha’ isn’t good. Looks nice if you like that big epic looking kind of film, which I don’t, but it’s pretty leaden, and Keanu is, sad to say, truly terrible in it. ‘Drop Edge of Yonder’ is my favorite Wurlitzer novel. Someone must’ve confronted Jarmusch, but it’s true I didn’t find a peep in my search for that post’s stuff. My fave Jarmusch is ‘Ghost Dog’, I think. ** Dee Kilroy, Okay, if he does dunk on it, at least you can reassure him and yourself that I dunk on it a bit too. That is a consolation. Ouch. How nosey! Yeah, wtf happened to Cox. Man, serious drop off. Oregon’s to blame? Ha ha, interestingly posited. I hope you got through the flying deluge. I think I read that it hasn’t been too murderous? ** _Black_Acrylic, High five. Congrats on the tone arm renaissance! I’m eyeing that Jlin myself. Race you to it. ** Tosh Berman, Wurlitzer’s novels are wonderful. I think you would appreciate them. Jack Smith, the prosecutor? ** David Ehrenstein, Very nice. Very, very nice. ** Cody Goodnight, I’m ok. The film editing is a bit intense and hard right now, so I’m a little tired and anxious. But I’m ok. I enjoyed ‘Holy Mountain’ until it starts the pilgrimage for the mountain itself, and then I think it gets very silly-hippie. I agree the 60s ‘Batman’ is up there with the great TV series of all time. I’m personally a huge fan of ‘Green Acres’ from the same period. You have a very, very, very good one, Cody. ** Steve Erickson, Hi. Well, at least he used the word ‘mild’. But, yeah, sounds most unpleasant. I read a little about EDGLRD. Very curious. I’m very happy that he seems to be all inspired and aggressively experimenting again. I sure hope his new film is good. Look forward to your single. Capturing writer’s block in a song sounds pretty experimental in and of itself. No, I don’t know Ferrante. The culprit’s name is escaping me. I’ll have a think. We’re editing the film madly. It needs some more shaping and finessing. It’s hard because, as I’ve mentioned, our piece of shit producer has completely stiffed us on post funds, and we have zero. And the film needs serious color correction and basic sound work before we can submit it in a few weeks, and we’re having to try to call in favors from skilled acquaintances to just get the basic things we need. It’s an infuriating situation, and we’re just doing everything we can to make the film at least decent enough looking/sounding that we don’t completely destroy our chances. Thank you for asking. ** Ollie :D, Oh, hi! Ollie is nice. Well, it’s true that we didn’t take any preservation moves on the animals, but then she didn’t tell us too, or maybe she told my parents and they just blew it off. That would make sense. I’m sorry the hospital is possibly looming. I know you’ll ace it, but, yeah, I can’t imagine there’s much to look forward to there, if that happens. Sorry. Fingers strangling crossed. For someone who writes about what I write about, you’d be amazed at how squeamish and wussy I can be about that stuff. I think it’s because it affects me deeply whereas friends of mine can just turn themselves off and enjoy the superficial shocks. Getting back to your story sounds good? ** Right. If you didn’t realise it’s the last day of the month, you do now, thanks to your pals, the slaves. See you tomorrow.

 

‘Nog is the kind of novel that suffers from being called “experimental”. Actually, it is part of a clear, established tradition. I would place it between Samuel Beckett’s trilogy (Molloy, Malone Dies, The Unnameable) and Don DeLillo’s Great Jones Street – closer to Beckett in spirit, to DeLillo in time.

‘The narrator of Nog, who may or may not be called Nog, shares with Beckett’s M-people a deep desire for inertia: “It is better to stay indoors and not mess around with useless experiences. A small room in a boarding house. Anonymous… Do nothing, want nothing, if you feel like walking, walk; sleeping, sleep.” With DeLillo’s Bucky Wunderlick, he shares an absurd paranoia: “I have nailed the pillowcase to the wall, as a sign or a flag. I asked for and I received a hammer and nail. It’s not safe here any more. And yet I am unable to creep out and establish some new space. Something has to happen, a new noise, a sense of something impending. Is it safe to say that?”

‘The whole performance, rap, trip, is highly self-conscious, ‘There are times when the voice of the narrator or the presence of the narrator should almost sing out.’ But never, or very rarely, annoyingly so. The hippyisms are kept to a minimum – which for a novel set in California in 1968 is stunningly restrained. In fact, it is the craft of the prose which redeems Nog. There is no sentence here of which Wurlitzer isn’t fully in control – he may not know exactly what its overall long-term effect will be, but this is very unwild writing.

‘The opening paragraph of Nog is one of the most carefully constructed I have ever read: ‘”Yesterday afternoon a girl walked by the window and stopped for sea shells. I was wrenched out of two months of calm. Nothing more than that, certainly, nothing ecstatic or even interesting, but very silent and even, as those periods have become for me. I had been breathing in and out, out and in, calmly, grateful for once to do just that, staring at the waves plopping in, successful at thinking almost nothing, handling easily the three memories I have manufactured, when that girl stooped for sea shells. There was something about her large breasts under her faded blue tee-shirt, the quick way she bent down, her firm legs in their rolled-up white jeans, her thin ankles – it was her feet, actually; they seemed for a brief, painful moment to be elegant. It was that thin-boned brittle movement with her feet that did it, that touched some spot that I had forgotten to smother. The way those thin feet remained planted, yet shifting slightly in the sand as she bent down quickly for a clam shell, sent my heart thumping, my mouth dry, no exaggeration, there was something gay and insane about that tiny gesture because it had nothing to do with her.'”

‘It was reading this passage convinced me I needed to read this book. I was at Waterstones Deansgate, in Manchester, and had just done a reading from Beatniks. I’d browsed a few other books, but Nog was the one which had caught me. When one of the booksellers told me I could choose any book I wanted from the shop, Nog was it.

‘A number of things came to mind whilst reading Nog: The Monkees’ film Head, Bob Dylan’s “Tangled Up in Blue”, Joan Didion’s Slouching Towards Bethlehem, Pascal, Jack Kerouac’s Big Sur, Charlie Chaplin. But it is very much its own book. “I bought the octopus, and for a year I travelled through the country with it.”‘ — Toby Litt

 

RW reads from ‘Nog’

 

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8 movies written by Rudy Wurlitzer

Trailer: Jim McBride’s ‘Glen and Randa’ (1971)

 

Trailer: Monte Hellman’s ‘Two Lane Blacktop’ (1971)

 

Trailer: Sam Peckinpah’s ‘Pat Garrett and Billy the Kid’ (1973)

 

Trailer: Alex Cox’s ‘Walker’ (1987)

 

Clip: Robert Frank and RW’s ‘Candy Mountain’ (1988)

 

Trailer: Volker Schlöndorff’s ‘Homo Faber’ (1991)

 

Trailer: Carroll Ballard’s ‘Wind’ (1992)

 

Trailer: Bernardo Bertolucci’s ‘Little Buddha’ (1993)

 

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Further

* Rudy Wurlitzer Matter Enterprises
* Rudy Wurlitzer @ IMDb
* RW interviewed @ The Chuck Palahniuk Site
* RW interviewed @ Pop Matters
* ‘The Countercultural Histories of Rudy Wurlitzer’ by Jonathan Rosenbaum
* ‘ON THE DRIFT: Rudy Wurlitzer and the Road to Nowhere’
* ‘The resurgence of Rudolph Wurlitzer’
* ‘How the West was Fun’
* ‘Dead Man was stolen?’
* RW ‘This Long Century’
* RW ‘Riding the Dharma Trail’
* ‘Early “Ghost Dog”‘ @ The Jim Jarmusch Page
* RW’s books @ Two Dollar Radio

 

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Rudy Wurlitzer interviewed by Scott McClanahan
from Ain’t it Cool News

 

Scott McClanahan: Screenwriters always talk about the concept of beats and tone. Usually these are tools that tend to make something more commercial. However, the tone of your screenplays are typically used to produce an unexpected emotional reaction from the audience. For instance, the whole car crash, grandma section from TWO LANE BLACKTOP, which creates this strange anxiety in the viewer. Do you think it’s important to undermine the audience’s typical expectations and maybe even leave them uncomfortable?

Rudolph Wurlitzer: I don’t know what screenwriters talk about, having met very few of the breed. In any case, I prefer not to be trapped into self conscious refrains about concepts of “beat and tone.” Of course, it’s always, one hopes, any artist’s intention to write something original, something that hasn’t been seen or experienced before, the theory being that if one surprises oneself, then possibly the audience might be surprised as well, one way or the other, even if it produces jeers and walk-aways. I never try to “undermine” or know about anyone’s expectations and don’t really care if folks are uncomfortable or even over the top with applause. The wonderful free-wheeling enthusiasms I experienced working with such originals as Monte Hellman, Hal Ashby, Robert Frank and Sam Peckinpah came from their encouragement to read something they had never read or experienced before. Of course, those days are long gone, slammed into oblivion by glassy-eyed marketing dudes, ignorant venal producers, self consciously academic film school imprints, insane pitches delivered inside corporate rooms crowded with cynical sales people obsessed with being secured by what they’ve already seen or read, and thus proved to be commercial, and so on … and on … perhaps that’s one of the reasons why I no longer feel it necessary to be represented by an L.A. agent for what essentially is a broken engine. At least, as it appears to me.

SM: A number of critics mention your work being linked to the European tradition of Bresson and Antonioni. This is probably because of the slower pace of your work. What does a slower pace create in a film? Why do you think the typical American audience rebels against this?

RW: I love Bresson and Antonioni – two maestros who followed the dictates and dynamics of a visual medium for its own sake. Their work is never slow for me. In fact, once inside the zone of their intuitive imaginations, I’m usually relieved of a sense of manipulated, linear time. A script I wrote years ago with Antonioni, TWO TELEGRAMS, the last one before his massive stroke which took him out of the game, has recently been optioned. So, I’ve been thinking about him lately – his ferocious uncompromising purity, the way his language was always sublimated to image, but was at the same time, always supportive, always resonant, and on the point, and how fearless he was in defending his vision. Of course, American audiences are increasingly manipulated by the lowest common denomination of banal escapist mono-culture, so independent artists, such as Bresson and Antonioni, could no longer exist in today’s paradigm and no doubt probably most corporate film honchos have barely heard of them, or if they did, they’re easily dismissed as being “not relevant.”

SM: You’re often looked at as a maverick in your portrayal of the frontier. For example, the frontier becomes a frontier of the mind rather than an actual physical place. But do you see yourself falling in a tradition of films about the American frontier? For example, WALKER could probably be viewed as the flipside to John Ford’s view of national expansion.

RW: Everything for me is a “frontier of the mind.” Which is not to say that I don’t love Ford’s THE SEARCHERS, and many of his films. But I try not to be saddled with a conceptual idea of “national expansion” involving any traditional historical period. Our myths of origins are inevitably invented, along with everything else in what passes for reality.

SM: How has the writing of screenplays influenced your fiction? I understand THE DROP EDGE OF YONDER started out as an idea for a screenplay, and even influenced Jim Jarmusch’s film DEAD MAN (“heavily” influenced from what I can see). For example, the chapters in the book are paced quite wonderfully. For all of our talk about your slow pacing, the novel zips along.

RW: The less said about Jarmusch’s pillage of my original script ZEBULON the better, a script that several directors, including Peckinpah and Ashby expressed interested in directing but who unfortunately died before the project could be realized. After all is said and ‘done’ about Jim Jarmusch, I ended up feeing strangely grateful to him for being ripped off because it made me circle back into my essential story and obsession with that time period, and I was able to rescue added layers and complex adventures that otherwise I wouldn’t have come up with. In the end, if one is lucky, which one hardly ever is, one becomes grateful for primal wounds, which are sadly often personal betrayals, but these wounds often propel one into the unknown beyond conventional boundaries as well as uncovering new ways of surviving and observing life’s inevitable tribulations. In the old days, I would slide off the grid enough to write a book and then pay for the privilege by writing a script, back and forth, for a while a great innocent rhythm, but then as the script scene became more corporate with the whole process becoming insanely labored and damaging as well as endlessly and uselessly taking too long, I drifted away, just to survive. As for my fiction, I’ve never thought of it as being “slow or fast paced.” The content and desperation to find out what one is thinking, determines the interior rhythms.

SM: The literary critic Harold Bloom talks about an “anxiety of influence” in the work of many writers. Would you talk about the influence of Samuel Beckett on your own work?

RW: Beckett has always been a major figure for me, so much so that I had to stop reading him for a number of years in order to survive. In the end, in order to go on, one has to discover one’s own language and voice, but recently I’ve been reading Beckett again, and remain stunned and blown away by his precisely evolved language and his extraordinary courage to address what can’t be addressed. When I was first in Paris a long time ago, I used to wander every evening over to a Montparnasse cafe and wait for Beckett to show up at his usual table. I was always too shy and nervous to speak or introduce myself to him, but I never tired of seeing him wait at his table, slowly having a drink until Giacometti sat down opposite him, and I would sit watching them as they silently drank for an hour or so, not saying a word to each other, until they stood up and shook hands and walked off towards their separate destinations.

(continued)

 

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Slow Fade: Rudy Wurlitzer & Will Oldham

‘Novelist and screenwriter Rudy Wurlitzer, has joined forces with Chicago’s seminal independent record label, Drag City, to launch their new line of alternative audio books. His 1984 novel Slow Fade, is a portrait of a director descending into the dark side of the Hollywood film world. This audio release is narrated by singer songwriter, folk music legend, Will Oldham (Palace Brothers, Bonnie Prince Billy). Both Wurlitzer and Oldham participated in this unique literary event. The reading was accompanied by guitar player Ben Chasny (Six Organs of Admittance) and photographic projections by acclaimed photographer Lynn Davis.’ — Basilica Hudson

 

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Book

Rudy Wurlitzer Nog
Two Dollar Radio

‘Nog is a journey without end. A journey through Time past and Time present — a journey of one man without history, without tradition.

‘Nog is about a man riding through American Space, space that is vast and choked and silent. Space that one fills with obsessive monologues, disintegrating memories, hoped-for horizons, buried myths, paranoid plans. Nog rides through this space because that is what we do, that is the great and original promise, the central fact. He explores or suspects he might be exploring The Great Space. He tries to define it, to know he is in it, to embrace it, to settle it, to get through it, to be a witness to it . . . there is a terrible anguish about inhabiting space without a beginning or end. Memories disintegrate as fast as they are brought up. They become arbitrary. words are too fragmented, there is no locus, no safe symbols, no totems that don’t endlessly transform beyond our understanding, no relationships that aren’t brutalized by the speed with which we pass each other. All we know how to do is to keep on, loosed by our own momentum, going faster and faster. The road is brutal and energetic and frantic, and sometimes funny, and certainly insanely fast. There is hardly time to make notes.

‘This book begins in a small town on the coast of California, moves to San Francisco and the desert badlands of the Southwest, from there to Los Angeles through the Panama Canal to New York — and perhaps back again.’ — Two Dollar Radio

 

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Excerpt

Yesterday afternoon a girl walked by the window and stopped for sea shells. I was wrenched out of two months of calm. Nothing more than that, certainly, nothing ecstatic or even interesting, but very silent and even, as those periods have become for me. I had been breathing in and out, out and in, calmly, grateful for once to do just that, staring at the waves plopping in, successful at thinking almost nothing, handling easily the three memories I have manufactured, when that girl stooped for sea shells. There was something about her large breasts under her faded blue tee shirt, the quick way she bent down, her firm legs in their rolled-up white jeans, her thin ankles – it was her feet, actually; they seemed for a brief, painful moment to be elegant. It was that thin-boned brittle movement with her feet that did it, that touched some spot that I had forgotten to smother. The way those thin feet remained planted, yet shifting slightly in the sand as she bent down quickly for a clam shell, sent my heart thumping, my mouth dry, no exaggeration, there was something gay and insane about that tiny gesture because it had nothing to do with her.

I went to Smitty’s, a roadhouse a quarter of a mile down the beach. When I came back, she was gone. I could not sit in my room. The walls closed in on me. I could see the walls closing in on me, and my situation, if that is what it is, a situation, seemed suddenly so dull and hopeless; this cheap thrown-together guest house of imitation redwood on the California coast with its smell of mold and bad plumbing, the inane view from my window of driftwood and seaweed, flat predictable waves, corny writings in the sand, pot-bellied fishermen and bronzed godlike volleyball players. I had to pull out, I thought, I was beginning to notice things, lists were forming, comparisons were on the way. And now I don’t have the octopus. I suppose that is what there is to tell about. Then I’ll move on. Last night there was a storm, and I abandoned the octopus. I didn’t really abandon the octopus, it’s still in the bathysphere on the truck bed, and the truck bed is still up on blocks, but it’s not the same any more. I’m going to move on alone.

I have money and I can make money. I want to say that now. I’m no reprobate, nor am I a drain on anyone. My great aunt left me two thousand a year, and I have, or had, an octopus and a truck. A man sold me the octopus and truck in Oregon. I met him in a bar in one of those logging towns on the Coast where the only attractive spot is the village dump, which at least has the advantage of facing the sea. Nog, he was apparently of Finnish extraction, was one of those semi-religious lunatics you see wandering around the Sierras on bread and tea, or gulping down peyote in Nevada with the Indians. He was dressed in black motorcycle boots, jeans and an old army shirt with sergeant chevrons still on the sleeves. His face was lean and hatchet-edged, with huge fuzzy eyes sunk deep in his skull like bullet holes. He kept complaining about a yellow light that had lately been streaming out of his chest from a spot the size of a half dollar. We drank and talked about the spot and the small burning sensation it gave him early in the morning and about his octopus. He had become disillusioned about traveling with the octopus and had begun having aggressive dreams about it. He wanted to sell it. We bought a bottle and walked out beyond the town into logged-off hills that looked like old battlefields. A low mist hung over a struggling second growth of redwood and Douglas fir. The tracks of giant caterpillar tractors wound everywhere. Pits and ditches were scattered about like shell holes. Thousands of frogs croaked and salamanders hung suspended between lids of green slime and rotting logs. I felt vaguely elated, like a witness to some ancient slaughter.

Nog lived in what had once been a water tank in the middle of a rough field. The octopus was there, all right. It was sitting inside a bathysphere on a truck bed. Nog had built a mold out of plaster of Paris for the tentacles and another one for the obese body with its parrot-like beak and bulging eyes. Then he had poured liquid latex rubber into the molds. The bathysphere was carefully fashioned out of a large butane gas tank and stolen pieces of metal from a nearby bridge. There were three portholes from which you could watch the octopus move its eight tentacles around in the bubbling water. Nog had been traveling to all the state and county fairs through the West and Midwest, charging kids a dime and adults a quarter. Most people believed the octopus was real, but whenever there was a loud doubt Nog would tell them the truth. He would never give money back, and occasionally there would be fights. In Bird City, Utah, the bathysphere had been tipped over by three men who had just been on a losing softball team. He was weary of the whole thing, he kept repeating. We sat down on a bench in front of his house, and he filled me in on octopus lore. The crowd appreciated the devilfish myth the most, and it was important to tell them how dangerous octopi are and how they can drown and mangle a human or sink a small boat. One should never tell them the truth, which is that octopi are quite friendly. I refused any more information. We sat quietly and it grew dark. Finally Nog said that he had stopped knowing how to entertain himself. He said he guessed that was my trouble, too, but that I should take a chance with the octopus. He suggested I transform it into a totem that I didn’t mind seeing every day.

I bought the octopus, and for a year I traveled through the country with it.

Nog is not quite clear enough. I have to invent more. It always comes down to that. I never get a chance to rest. I have never been able, for instance, to understand the yellow light streaming from his chest. But now that the octopus has faded away, Nog might emerge into a clearer focus. Those were sentimental and fuzzy days, those trips through the West with the octopus, and sometimes I find myself wishing more of it were true. (I find, when I ruminate like this, that I invent a great deal of my memories – three now, to be exact – because otherwise I have trouble getting interested.) But I have gotten faster with myself and more even-tempered since I met Nog. Perhaps not even-tempered but certainly more dulcet. I think about trips, bits and pieces of trips, but I no longer try and put anything together (my mind has become blessedly slower), nor do I try as much to invent a suitable character who can handle the fragments. But I don’t want to get into all that. There is always the danger that I might become impressed by what once was a misplaced decision for solitude.

I’m thinking about trying the East. I will go to New York and get a small room on the top of a hotel.

When I was on the road with the octopus I did a lot of reminiscing about New York. New York was, in fact, my favorite memory for four or five months, until it got out of hand and I had to drop it. I lived in a comfortable duplex apartment on top of an old hotel overlooking a small park and harbor. I was sort of an erotic spy on myself then, but managed to survive, at least for those four or five months, by keeping an alert and fastidious watch on the terrifying view outside. I watched ships glide and push into huge docks, and far below, through silvery leaves, the quiet violence in the park. At night I stayed up with the fantastic lights of cars and subways as they flowed over the concrete ramps that weaved around the hotel. I lived precariously in the center of brutal combinations of energy, and gradually, as I closed in on myself, the bridges transformed into massive spider webs imprisoning the subways as they rumbled like mechanical snakes across the black river. The subways shot off green and yellow sparks in defense, in specific relays of time, always getting through. I had to drop that memory. But now, with more miles and memories in control, I might attempt New York.

(continued)

 

 

*

p.s. Hey. ** Dominik, Hi!!! Yes, my coat is nearly constant companion again, yes! I fantasise sometimes that I’ve been unknowingly learning French just from being here, and I wake up one day and, bang, I’m fluent. I actually do have a friend who’s insanely obsessed with Heath Ledger. Unique guy. I of course optimistically think that all those animals died of natural causes, but my logical side says, What are the odds of that? Thank you for the playing-it-safe gift. Love giving me salt water taffy because I really want some, G. ** Misanthrope, Hey. Franzen was such the big literary bugaboo for a while there. That was fun, but I don’t miss it. Best of luck to David with his self-shaping. ** Dee Kilroy, Ah, thank you! I’ll, uh, go give it its identity. Eagle eye. I was there for at least the waning days of the ‘Cruising’ era in NYC, and I have to say I think there’s a shitload of over-orchestrating nostalgia going on re: that. But that wasn’t my thing. I do miss the hustler bars though. I will watch ‘Stranger By The Lake’. It’s been a goal for going on forever. The ‘Frisk’ film is miserable. From the little I’ve seen, no, nothing of interest in Verow’s other films unless you crave very soft-edgy conventional homoerotic blah. We’re applying for funding for the film in numerous places, but, for now, for the festival submissions, we are bereft and having to try to fake it. ‘Safe’? I would recommend he start a little later in my oeuvre. That one’s a little … early. The middle section ‘My Mark’ is pretty good. But cool. Thanks! Stay moist as opposed to drenched. ** David Ehrenstein, Ha ha, the ultimate taxidermy. ** _Black_Acrylic, Thank you, whew! Horse racing. Have you ever been to a horse race? I went twice, I think. Very odd experience. The super ‘into it’ crowd was very interesting. ** Cody Goodnight, Hi. I’m ok today, thanks. My grandmother was a taxidermist, and she gave us taxidermy animals all the time, so I grew up immune to their horrifying aspect. I only really fully like ‘El Topo’. ‘Holy Mountain’s’ set-pieces are impressive though. I mean that he set those insanely extravagant sets and decor for a 10 second-long shot. Crazy. I’ll be editing all day today, so that’s my day, and it should be pretty alright. I hope you found a beloved new album. ** Nick., Me too. When I found my 10:30-ish to bed, 6:30-ish to wake up schedule, everything fell into place. Dude, FI, so boring, seriously, trust me. If I was forced to go to a beach-y gay mecca, I’d choose Provincetown even though I have less than zero interest in going there (again) ever. Did you get de-bored? ** Charalampos, Then I’ll try to remember not to mention Brandy around you. Should be pretty easy. Good luck on your Athens trip today. I still feel really bad that Coil and Lee Ranaldo did all that effort to do the score for that stupid film. They did it as a favor to me back before the shoot when I still hoped it would be good. I apologised to them, but they were cool about it. I’m sure killer poems are bubbling inside you. Patience, I guess. Vibes of a positive nature from Paris. ** Darby🐿, Hi. I don’t mind feeding that addiction. You sound like you know your stuff. Hats off. My grandmother was a taxidermist, as I mentioned up above. Our house was full of stuffed animals when I was growing up. Birds, lizards, coyotes, tigers, even a bear. They all rotted away, so I think maybe she wasn’t the best taxidermist. Your mom doesn’t have to know, does she? ** Billy, Hi! Oh my god, what an amazing story! Thank you a ton. I’m going get that into the blog somehow if it’s the last thing I do. Happy day. What’s good? ** Mark Stephens, Mark, old buddy!!!!!! Love, love, love. I’d hoped to see you guys when Zac and I were there getting ready for the film and shooting it, but it was a full-time 24/7 job, it turned out. But I’m pretty sure I’m coming back for good old Halloween! Then: you + Julie + me = a fucking must. You good? Miss you big time, my pal! <3 ** Steve Erickson, When Ru Paul was still part of the Atlanta scene and doing stuff with Pop Tarts and Deaundra Peek and all of those amazing, weird Atlanta drag artists, she was pretty fun, yeah. Sally Rooney, right, and there’s another lit bugaboo too, but I can’t remember the name. ** John Newton, Hi. I saw that Body Art show when it was in LA. No, I would never donate my remains to them or to anyone, no. You? Um, I wouldn’t say my friend went full-on psychotic with me ever. I think he must’ve at the very end of his life because he did some quite awful stuff. I guess my crystal phase was maybe, I don’t know, 6 months? It was in Holland. It was called Pep there. Crystallised powder, snortable. Ecstasy had the seemingly classical effect of making me feel blissed out and enraptured by everything and everyone around me. But that was back when Ecstasy was still quite pure. Oh, man, I’d have to give a big think about the recommended presses. There are really so many, and it would depend on what kind of work a writer does since most of them have some kind of bent/preference. I was really tall as a kid, and I was going to porn bookstores with no problem starting when I was about 13. I didn’t know about Zampogna. That’s very interesting, thanks. There’s one very good Mexican restaurant in Paris, and one or two doable ones. I go there. Or to one of Paris’s two Chipotles. I don’t cook, I microwave, and there’s no microwaveable Mexican food here. I was just being glib about doctors. I just meant that when I see a doctor I automatically trust them and think they know what’s wrong and how to fix it. My health’s pretty good, yeah. I’m lucky. Thanks! ** Okay. I’m spotlighting an early novel by the wonderful, psychedelic-ish prose stylist/novelist Rudy Wurlitzer, and obviously I recommend you give it your attention. See you tomorrow.