_____________

daddyslayer, 20
Portland

I’m super good looking & have a 6 pack & want to try things while I’m young and hot. I’m way too high rn to take pictures of myself and stuff, and that’s the only sober pic of myself that I had.

Guestbook of daddyslayer

daddyslayer (Owner) – Aug 7, 2020
I never feel guilty about being privileged.

desputschia – Aug 7, 2020
speaking as his former sugardaddy know that literally all he does when he’s not putting out is drink champagne and spend your money on things he doesn’t need

Dick L, Uncut
Orientation Gay
Body Average
Body hair Shaved
Piercings Yes
Tattoos No
Smoking No
Speaks English
Position Versatile
Kissing Yes
S&M Soft SM
Dirty No
Oral Versatile
Rate per hour 130 $
Overnight On request

 

_____________

godsaveus, 21
Rome

versatile pair of very hot, gifted, totally broke bitches due to this shitty time who are monogamous but will provide one or more men access to our bodies while we suck, rim, and fuck each other and we can subdivide and redirect our bods to men if we remain in close proximity to each other and if the offer is lucrative enough to deserve consideration.

Guestbook of godsaveus

ifuckyoubitch – Aug 10, 2020
They are ovens for a lot. Put anything in them, it comes back bigger and delicious.

Dick L, Uncut
Orientation Gay
Body Athletic
Body hair Shaved
Piercings No
Tattoos No
Smoking Socially
Speaks Italian, Greek, French, English
Position Versatile
Kissing Yes
S&M Soft SM
Dirty WS only
Oral Bottom
Rate per hour 250 €
Overnight 800 €

 

_____________

-headbang-, 19
Louisville

I’ve discovered that almost anything is hot as long as there’s financial compensation involved. Scenes and acts that would otherwise seem intolerable are appropriate when earning money is my motive. That changes me into someone else, someone that understands the fairness of (and even likes) whatever you do to me. And, by extension, my cock is changed, too — when it is purchased, so to speak, things that would never unsoften it become occasions to which it greedily arises.

At one point in what feels like the distant past I engaged in a long-term sex for gifts situation with someone I admired greatly. I documented the experience online on the dark web and gained about 10k followers in the process. When the situation ended, I lost confidence in what I thought I wanted and vanished from the online world for a long time.

I have retreated mostly to asexuality or “bisexual under specific conditions”. Ever since the failure of my previous long-term arrangement, I do not mix my professional and social worlds at all. In the past year and a half (December 31, 2018 – July 1, 2020) I can count my number of erections on one hand and I have not cum outside of one spontaneous orgasm on the way to work one morning.

Guestbook of -headbang-

MrCJPorter – July 28, 2020
Slowly undressed him and fit him with a black jock strap and black bow tie. I liked kissing him, getting head. Fucked him while he was sitting on my dick. Collected the black jock strap and black bow tie for dry cleaning. Should do me until late August.

Dick XL, Cut
Orientation Bisexual
Body Athletic
Body hair Smooth
Piercings Yes
Tattoos Yes
Smoking Socially
Speaks English
Position More bottom
Kissing Consent
S&M Soft SM
Dirty No
Oral Versatile
Rate per hour 150 $
Overnight 500 $

 

_____________

TeenRafael, 19
Bauru

Badly need cash. 7″ thick tool and hungry shaved ass up for grab. Your place or hotel 3:00pm – 4:00am. It’s also possible to buy me to marry.

Guestbook of TeenRafael

WhiteDick4You – Aug 9, 2020
He’s not a teen and his name isn’t Rafael.

TeenRafael (Owner) – Aug 5, 2020
‼️GET OUT‼️of my profile if: 1- You are ONLY looking for HOT SEX. 2- You are looking for a PERFECT person. 4- You are not PATIENT

micasaessucasa – Aug 4, 2020
I tried fighting his anxiety but couldn’t, anxiety level 999+

TeenRafael (Owner) – Aug 1, 2020
If you don’t like it I don’t want to know about it

weedguy – Aug 1, 2020
tired and stressed

Dick M, Uncut
Orientation Gay
Body Slim
Body hair Shaved
Piercings No
Tattoos No
Smoking Yes
Speaks Spanish, English
Position Versatile
Kissing Yes
S&M Soft SM
Dirty No
Oral Versatile
Rate per hour 80 $
Overnight 200 $

 

______________

myassass0000, 24
Palm Springs

I love getting fisted and getting my ass eaten.

I have three gspots.

Please don’t destroy my jockstrap, it was expensive.

I have a great kind of sort of bubble butt.

Sunrise and Alejo in Palm Springs.

1st Punch: 18/11/18 👊🏻
1st Double: 05/07/19 👊🏻👊🏻

Guestbook of myassass0000

TopPigPervFF – July 27, 2020
His ass is insatiable, so I named it Audrey 2.

Dick M, Cut
Orientation Gay
Body Slim
Body hair Some
Piercings Yes
Tattoos Yes
Smoking Yes
Speaks English
Position Bottom only
Kissing Yes
S&M Yes
Dirty Yes
Oral Versatile
Rate per hour 200 $
Overnight 1500 $

 

_______________

PragmaticLucifer, 20
Barcelona

Top only in anal due to having a penis implant that gets rock hard for as long as you want it.

It’s that adaption and ability to take in and process the immediate changes of ones future, then adjust course and correct for the missing pieces that was left behind and manage for a better tomorrow with or without someone in it that has made me the amazing person I am now.

Dick XL, Uncut
Orientation Bisexual
Body Slim
Body hair Shaved
Piercings Yes
Tattoos Yes
Smoking Yes
Speaks Spanish, English
Position Top only
Kissing Yes
S&M Yes
Dirty WS only
Oral Versatile
Rate per hour 180 €
Overnight 1000 €

 

_______________

xxghostxx, 19
Barranquilla

Hello I am a anorectic boy impulsive and introverted.
I like to fuck I am very thin.
I don’t have a place to live and can therefore fuck anywhere.
I am looking the partners that accepts and likes me with my anorectic look and way of life.
I like cum inside my hole and eat everything when your cum do comes outside.
Discount if you’re from Islam.

Guestbook of xxghostxx

Bheng0723 – Aug 2, 2020
only for someone who does not use physical appearance as a basis

uglygod – July 31, 2020
He’s so thin his bones literally creak and clack together when you’re fucking him.

SirPhillip – July 21, 2020
Not to turn this place into Yelp or TripAdvisor, but he has the most incredibly delicious cum that he shoots in large volume. Could his anorexia have something to do with it? Any doctors out there?

Anonymous – July 18, 2020
why doesn’t such an AIDS radish go home to his mother’s pussy … who she’ll recognize by fucking herself with it
Bravo bitch !!!!

Dick L, Uncut
Orientation Gay
Body Slim
Body hair Shaved
Piercings No
Tattoos No
Smoking No
Speaks Spanish, Portuguese, English
Position Bottom only
Kissing Yes
S&M Yes
Dirty Yes
Oral Versatile
Rate per hour 1 $
Overnight 150 $

 

______________

Alexander-the-hot, 19
Leipzig

Hey!! I m damn beautiful to see. I can literally play any instrument musical or otherwise!

Guestbook of Alexander-the-hot

Alexander-the-hot (Owner) – Aug 12, 2020
I may be introvert but there are scary voices inside me.

Adrim – Aug 11, 2020
Don’t believe anything he says while you’re fucking him

Jake_Jizzpump – Aug 8, 2020
refreshingly unprofessional and awkward sex like a cute straight teen in a wtf mood gets fairly into it is surprisingly kissy-kissy acts cold hostile and guilty afterwards plan for a swift exit

Dick L, Uncut
Orientation Gay
Body Average
Body hair Smooth
Piercings No
Tattoos No
Smoking Yes
Speaks German, Hungarian, English
Position Versatile
Kissing Consent
S&M No
Dirty No
Oral Versatile
Rate per hour 230 €
Overnight 940 €

 

______________

BelchingTurtle, 18
Federal Way

Cum vibe with me ugh

Guestbook of BelchingTurtle

BelchingTurtle (Owner) – July 30, 2020
I’m back because every time I start having fun with men on here someone has to become incredibly creepy to the point I have to escape and delete my account.

BelchingTurtle (Owner) – July 14, 2020
Don’t report, younger than it says I am🥺 hmu :)$$

Dick M, Uncut
Orientation Gay
Body Average
Body hair little
Piercings No
Tattoos Yes
Smoking Yes
Speaks English
Position Bottom only
Kissing Yes
S&M Soft SM
Dirty No
Oral Versatile
Rate per hour On request
Overnight 250 $

 

______________

Stayinbed, 18
Halifax

Portstution exist since a very long time, and it seems to always have been a respecting thing among human communities. Always, except very recently. We have taken a path in which we pretend everybody is equal and every life deserve the same respect and have the same value. I think it’s wrong, twisted, and it’s part of the reason why so many people are sad in our society. Let cute guys be porstitues, and ugly guys be customers ! I proudly belong to the cute guy race, and I would not be happy pretending otherwise.

Guestbook of Stayinbed

KDrew – Aug 12, 2020
I am 100% inexperienced in paying for sex. It’s something I recently found out about myself. I basically had a dream where a boy who looked remarkably like you lay naked on my bed while I inserted wads of cash into his ass like it was a satchel. If you want the full details of that dream then let me know.

Stayinbed (Owner) – Aug 1, 2020
sigh ok Jim but it is not going to be cheap.

SexLover82 – Aug 1, 2020
Hi Caspian, I’m a friend of your mother. We have been in one another’s company in social settings for years. You’ve always acted like you think I’m a creep. I’ve always wanted to fuck you. I’m pretty sure you’ve always known and is probably why you think I’m creepy. But yes, fucking you has always been my fantasy that has never been fulfilled. Sometimes my desire for you feels like it’s burning me alive. Hit me back if you think money can make it happen.

RimPig – July 23, 2020
He love sex where he get to show how truly enjoying that dick in him then I pull out and eat his hole for the 100th time and he remind me of my granddaughter (long story).

Dick L, Uncut
Orientation Gay
Body Slim
Body hair Shaved
Piercings Yes
Tattoos No
Smoking Yes
Speaks French, English
Position Bottom only
Kissing Yes
S&M No
Dirty No
Oral Versatile
Rate per hour On request
Overnight On request

 

______________

alex, 20
Lubbock

am alex i live in texas.i work in sonic company and i also working konagrill .lundry .i work four job a day.i love to fuck ass and i will them o fuck me hard. i am free for anything but.. i am ho. i am.

Guestbook of alex

Dommatcho – Aug 9, 2020
No muscles and not xl

blearyardal – Aug 2, 2020
I’m a pervert kinda geeza, who likes nothing more than getting baked with a cute fuckboy.

I’d once saw this boy getting off a bus, and the boner had been after me ever since.

The first thing I noticed about him is his smashing ears. You may find yourself awed by the callibre of his ears.

I work as a swordsman, helping children. This allows me to exercise my skills: wielding weapons and poking younguns.

And I’ll leave you with a quote from the one-and-only Harry Potter: “It seems as though I always knew I’d have to face him in the end.”

Dick XL, Cut
Orientation Bisexual
Body Slim
Body hair Shaved
Piercings Yes
Tattoos Yes
Smoking Yes
Speaks English
Position Versatile
Kissing No
S&M No
Dirty No
Oral Versatile
Rate per hour 80 $
Overnight On request

 

______________

CNcuteboy, 20
Beijing

strangle. choke，chloro. fainting. drink till unconscious. knock out with a punch. 100%passive

not interested in vanilla sex under any circumstance

Guestbook of CNcuteboy

CNcuteboy (Owner) – Aug 11, 2020
isn’t it beautiful that i drive you crazy psychologically then do it physically for that matter the shiver in your spine, every nerve of your skin gone insane the pleasure you would get strangling me comes Ten fold Higher

Derelt – Aug 10, 2020
Apparently if you’re Chinese this isn’t as unusual and out there as it sounds.

CNcuteboy (Owner) – Aug 10, 2020
i might be too pretty as a guy. also my age is too young for strangling? is it? what a wasteful thought! we don’t know who are the childish guys out there that are more older rather than us right? so keep it mind. stop being rude and toxic masculinity, it just made you like an A-hole.

Dick S, Uncut
Orientation Gay
Body Athletic
Body hair Some
Piercings Yes
Tattoos No
Smoking No
Speaks Chinese, English
Position Bottom only
Kissing No
S&M Yes
Dirty Yes
Oral Versatile
Rate hour $1000
Rate overnight On request

 

______________

mad3byang3l, 18
Debrecen

Hello everyone. I’m gay. Like all gays I like to suck and sit on faces and get fucked and sometimes get sucked. According to grandma a gorgeous boy.

Guestbook of mad3byang3l

Anonymous – Aug 6, 2020
Your grandma owes me 100€

Dick S, Uncut
Orientation Gay
Body Slim
Body hair Shaved
Piercings Yes
Tattoos No
Smoking Yes
Speaks Hungarian, English
Position Bottom only
Kissing Yes
S&M Soft SM
Dirty No answer
Oral Bottom
Rate per hour 20 €
Overnight On request

 

______________

notpopularjay, 18
Houston

I’m just a dumb kid who can’t afford shit due to the pandemic… I’m very depressed well who isn’t! lol…😅 but I try to be positive you know despite all the financial problems and finding it hard to get a job😞 it would be nice to be paid to nail my ass🥺

Guestbook of notpopularjay

LovesFries – July 29, 2020
I have hired him as a sex doll for the weekend, and only allowing myself his saliva and cum. My hope is to lose 5lbs as a result.

zaddyy150 – July 24, 2020
1. Kpop anime and Drag Race, let’s say that his life is basically based on these three things.
2. Popping his clean sweet scented smooth boy pussy open missionary is a bombastic event.

Dick M, Cut
Orientation Gay
Body Slim
Body hair Smooth
Piercings No
Tattoos No
Smoking Socially
Speaks English
Position More bottom
Kissing Consent
S&M Soft SM
Dirty No
Oral Versatile
Rate per hour 100 $
Overnight 500 $

 

______________

cutetwinkyvortex, 18
Athens

i’m a young kitty blonde twink addicted to having my dick, balls and butt licked for hours until i cum… my cock are better in good, it’s a beast… we all know my ass is the perfect and only word there needs to be said 👌… i want rich men to shove their faces between my legs and lick everything and when i say everything i mean it…

Guestbook of cutetwinkyvortex

otkspanking – July 22, 2020
He does indeed have a very pretty little ass but it’s counterbalanced by the fact that in person he looks, acts and even talks like Lucille Ball.

BillyBoy – July 21, 2020
youre cute hehehee

Vqueer – July 8, 2020
Don’t meet him for drinks or dinner, he is very whorish so discrete is not something he can do.

Dick M, Uncut
Orientation Gay
Body Slim
Body hair Shaved
Piercings No
Tattoos Yes
Smoking Yes
Speaks Croatian, French, English
Position Bottom only
Kissing Yes
S&M No
Dirty WS only
Oral Bottom
Rate per hour 250 €
Overnight On request

 

______________

Trashytrashbag, 19
Berlin

Bottom boy, thin, smooth all over, and have a great ass with a tight, moist hole that loves wringing spongey tongues and milking dicks.

Love arrogant, selfish rich men that don’t hesitate to push make me take pop*ers and parTy until im a mindless slut and unload all their cum and saliva inside me.

For example an older man offers me $$$ and dr*ugs if I go with him to his home, then I lose control because I’m so high and he uses my hole hard to get off, eating it deep and fucking it raw until he shoots inside my ass. I deserve it because I’m so greedy.

Love sucking old dick when I can see a biohazard tattoo. Nothing gets me off faster than feeling a cock shooting its load in my ass whith a biohazard tatto in sight, to me it’s WILD.

… and if you “feed” (if your into it you know what im talking about) CONTACT ME, would love to taste what you give me 😉

Guestbook of Trashytrashbag

chooko – Aug 10, 2020
Trashytrashbag is the BRAND & he’s the CONVERSATION…. Can make up or break your mind by making baaad actions

Trashytrashbag (Owner) – Aug 4, 2020
It was nice to eat you

nowguy – Aug 4, 2020
I gratefully took advantage of his “feed” option and … there are no words. I gave him big hits of poppers and fed him dogshit and poop out of my infant daughter’s dirty diapers then watched him swallow the meal. Wow!

curveddicktop – Aug 2, 2020
His ass has a strong internal “grip” and he’s not afraid to use it!

Dick L, Uncut
Orientation Gay
Body Athletic
Body hair Shaved
Piercings No
Tattoos No
Smoking Yes
Speaks Farsi, English
Position Bottom only
Kissing Yes
S&M Yes
Dirty Yes
Oral Versatile
Rate per hour On request
Overnight On request

 

___________

iwantcake, 19
Curacao

Venezuelan living in curacao🇻🇪 🇨🇼 Skinny Legend 🍒 Arianator☁️ Poor asf (don’t expect)🤑 Obsessed with French vainilla latte♨️ Sometimes the people call me Channel N°1

Guestbook of iwantcake

iwantcake (Owner) – June 13, 2020
I don’t belong here. I lost my mojo. I get no joy.

Dick L, Uncut
Orientation Gay
Body Slim
Body hair Shaved
Piercings Yes
Tattoos Yes
Smoking No
Speaks Spanish, English
Position Bottom only
Kissing Yes
S&M Soft SM
Dirty No answer
Oral Versatile
Rate per hour On request
Overnight On request

 

___________

ASStronaut_destroyers, 18
Bucharest

couple of macho guys with cute fag boy who hangs out with us that we fuck and rent sometimes or will sell off (due to circumstances)

Guestbook of ASStronaut_destroyers

Niceman1 – Aug 9, 2020
All 3 of them are crazy as loons but I liked that.

MrStHi – Aug 6, 2020
The most real fuck in Bucharest

work-in-progress – Aug 3, 2020
Loved the fear in his eyes.

Anonymous – Aug 1, 2020
Their fag is pretty good stuff ahhaa 🙂

Dick M, Uncut
Orientation Gay
Body Slim
Body hair Smooth
Piercings No
Tattoos No
Smoking Yes
Speaks Romanian, English
Position Bottom only
Kissing Yes
S&M Yes
Dirty Yes
Oral Top
Rate per hour 100 €
Overnight 200 €

 

___________

Escortservice_Check, 20
Geneva

I don’t ever take myself to seriously I just don’t see a point we are all going to die someday. I currently have a full-time job as a software developer but I’m becoming dissatisfied. There is not a lot of things I really care about. people said I’d be happier if I cared more but personally this frees up my mind for things the mater to me.

Why am I on this site well because I was happy for a while and could enjoy masturbaying alone and had an okay social life but due to recent events I’ve had to spend quite a bit of time alone so naturally I got lonely. I’ve not really shared my body with anyone I didn’t know well first, I’m a bit of a private person. I feel like I’m looking more for something for an hour then a bit longer term.

I generally try not to lie to myself, but I do feel my emotions are disassociated with my logical brain and my values. I do feel I can be very honest when I’m drunk (drunk well writing this). I don’t really change when drinking just my cock is harder a bit. I consider myself Bi but I feel women are mostly full of shit and I hate that shit.

What is this site anyways is it a prostitution site? I don’t know I’ve not had a change to look around since I’ve gotta fill this stuff out.

P.S this is my box I’ll put in what ever I like.

Guestbook of Escortservice_Check

Escortservice_Check (Owner) – Aug 14, 2020
I’m having a big problem and I need help from more experienced bottoms please! I can’t douche properly. It sounds funny, but I’m losing customers because of this. Help me please.

sheep80-60 – Aug 11, 2020
First you have to jack off with him on snapchat and if he decides he likes jacking off with you more than being alone he’ll meet with you. I didn’t pass the test but after seeing him in the light and naked I didn’t really mind.

Dick XL, Uncut
Orientation Bisexual
Body Average
Body hair Some
Piercings no
Tattoos No
Smoking Yes
Speaks French, English
Position Versatile
Kissing Yes
S&M Soft SM
Dirty No
Oral Versatile
Rate per hour On request
Overnight On request

 

___________

Abyys, 18
Soorts-Hossegor

I’m 17 year old from Saint Barth and hopefully i can get to Hossegor at the end of July ☀️ to surf🏄🏼‍♂️

This advennture will not be as it was planned, but i try to make it the best (I dont know if escorting is a good way for that..)

Im so much opened to meet new men, especially from another race, i wanna be multikulti, i never ever talked to an african american, or asian, australian guys in my life, i would love to spend time with new people around me, to spend so time together, talking, telling stroies, having sex, drinking some beer, and of course practice my english. (actually i never talked to anyone in english face to face)

Looking for free? Skip
Looking for anything related to free? Skip
Not multikulti? Skip
Won’t fuck, just showing me ur dick? Skip
And the list goes on:
…
…
…
…

Dick XL, Uncut
Orientation Bisexual
Body Athletic
Body hair Little
Piercings No
Tattoos No
Smoking No
Speaks French, English
Position More top
Kissing Yes
S&M No
Dirty No
Oral Versatile
Rate per hour 350 €
Overnight 1200 €

 

___________

HansLeck, 19
Prague

I was star of Czech Hunter 497

“I totally hit the jackpot with this 19 years old cutie. I met him on his way home from school and I would do anything to get him in bed. He studied at a business academy, so I was surprised he had no idea how to bargain properly. I would have paid him so much more! He took me to his parent’s flat, fortunately all the family members were away. I had him just for myself. But this little angel with dreamy eyes wasn’t as innocent as he looked. He already had one gay experience, that’s probably why he was willing to do all this in the first place. And he was really into it! I’m sure his mom would be surprised to see her eldest son in action. The guy enjoyed my cock in so many ways and loved them all. He even managed to cum with my cock balls deep in his tight asshole. I simply loved him.”

FAQ

Is Czech Hunter fake? Yes
Do you really go to business school? No
Is cameraman attractive? No (but I don’t care)

Guestbook of HansLeck

Idinit – July 27, 2020
His ass is outstanding in its field

pivotaxez – July 22, 2020
1. He’s hungry 2. He’s bored. I can’t be more explicit.

fakecaptain – July 20, 2020
Sociable. Gin tonic fan. Gay but still a man.

MsXXXxx – July 16, 2020
Hes not totally perfect but parts of him are excellent.

Dick XL, Uncut
Orientation Gay
Body Slim
Body hair Some
Piercings No
Tattoos No
Smoking No
Speaks Czech, English
Position More bottom
Kissing Yes
S&M No
Dirty No
Oral Versatile
Rate per hour 200 €
Overnight 700 €

 

___________

Sloshy, 19
Stuttgart

HAIL SATAN!

I just recently turned 19. I’ve been a live in sex toy for a wealthy man for 6 years. He said I could create an account to make friends with people online because I’m very lonely.

I will never be able to meet up with you.

My boyfriend (I never know what to call him) is a nymphomaniac and loves fucking me in inventive and even painful ways. He saved my life and gave me purpose and I am very loyal to him.

I’m very small, 5’4” and skinny, 105lbs. My dick is 4.5 inches full hard, and I am uncut. My boyfriend is a very large in shape man and his cock is 9.5 inches long and 7 inches thick. When he’s fully hard and rests his cock on my ass width ways, he’s bigger then my ass. He fucks me a few times every day, but and, without stretching me out, will ram his entire cock inside me and basically fuck my stomach.

He has a very large playroom with a lot of equipment. And a home made electric torture device that is extremely painful. He says it’s output is just under the voltage that would cause skin burning. He enjoys hooking my very very sensitive cock head up to it and making me scream.

If stories about a life of nonstop sex turn you on I can share what I’ve been through and my whole story. Again just looking for online friends. Again I cannot meet. 😍

Guestbook of Sloshy

Sloshy (Owner) – Aug 6, 2020
👉🏻Also selling:

1. My chastity cage – $45
(45mm base diameter)

2. My vibrator – $45

Both very used, boyfriend only stores the vibrator in the freezer to ensure that flies don’t get on it.

HAIL SATAN!

Dick M, Uncut
Orientation Gay
Body Slim
Body hair Shaved
Piercings No
Tattoos No
Smoking Yes
Speaks Polish, German, English
Position Bottom only
Kissing No
S&M Yes
Dirty Yes
Oral Versatile
Rate per hour On request
Overnight On request

 

____________

UndertakerEli, 20
Passaic

This is all new. This is all scary. Not quite sure how I got here, but while I’m here:

I’m completely full deaf. Just only learned to sign language, so I can’t talk and can’t hear either.

Guestbook of UndertakerEli

Standingthere – Aug 3, 2020
So you know in advance, first he has you write down a list of the sex acts you want. He reads the list and crosses out any he won’t do. If you’re still interested, he tapes the list on the wall by the bed and lies down holding a sharpie in one hand. When you’ve done a sex act, he crosses it out on the list with the sharpie. The sex continues until everything is crossed out. All that said, he’s so cute, he made me wish every cute boy was deaf and dumb.

Dick S, Cut
Orientation Gay
Body Slim
Body hair Shaved
Piercings Yes
Tattoos Yes
Smoking Yes
Speaks English
Position Bottom only
Kissing Yes
S&M Soft SM
Dirty No answer
Oral Versatile
Rate per hour 60 $
Overnight 200 $

 

____________

rugbyXXL, 20
Rovigo

I prefer to be available only for exclusive, overwhelming and engaging mental and physical meetings with mature men, women and couples of a high socio-economic level, both as a character and as a person.
Therefore entrepreneurs, politicians and ecclesiastics are welcome, however I do not despise the rest of you as long as you can afford the company of a special person like me.

Guestbook of rugbyXXL

AnthonyXL – Aug 7, 2020
⚜️⚜️⚜️⚜️⚜️⚜️⚜️💎⚜️⚜️⚜️⚜️⚜️⚜️⚜️⚜️
👑👑👑👑👑HIS SERVICE👑👑👑👑👑👑
⚜️⚜️⚜️⚜️⚜️⚜️⚜️⚜️⚜️⚜️⚜️⚜️⚜️⚜️⚜️⚜️

Dick XXL, Uncut
Orientation Bi
Body Muscular
Body hair Smooth
Tattoos None
Piercings None
Speaks Italian, English
Position Versatile
Kissing Yes
S&M Yes
Dirty WS Only
Fisting Versatile
Safe Sex Let’s talk
Rate per hour On request
Overnight On request

 

____________

idontknowdude, 22
Paris

Ah hi me it’s 👀 LOUIS if you have between (37 and 65) ACTIVE-HUNG 🐷 contact me directly 👅📞 07 80 35 59 28 no other exchange possible than by phone 🌡️ (ass / mouth) 175% (passive) 🐖🕸️ at your disposal 🐖🐖🐖 1 hour 1 night 1 lifetime! Ol lol!🔥😀🔥🍭🔥🎅🔥🎁🔥💰🔥🥂🔥🆗🏳️‍🌈🍭📞🥂😀 I answer H24 👄

Guestbook of idontknowdude

charlesflores – Aug 12, 2020
Here some extra infos: Sex is not his real job. He is a artist. Since his field right now is in crisis, he started to think what other options he have and sex is the only thing he think of. He needs to party hard first to help him escape into a world he’s not really mentally in on a reg basis. But once he does you got sex and you support art!

Dick L, Uncut
Orientation Gay
Body Slim
Body hair Shaved
Piercings Yes
Tattoos Yes
Smoking Yes
Speaks French, English
Position More bottom
Kissing Yes
S&M Soft SM
Dirty No
Oral Versatile
Rate per hour 250 €
Overnight 800 €

 

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Steven, 18
Subang Jaya City Council

I wanna get fuck by you ,hot guy !

Guestbook of Steven

JohnFord – Aug 9, 2020
I didn’t want to cuddle after but he vehemently insisted so I did and it kind of ruined everything.

calvinnnnn – Aug 4, 2020
He eats cats

felipejulian – July 31, 2020
Highly recommended to those who lust for innocent looking Malaysian boys who have slept around a fucking ton.

Dick S, Uncut
Orientation Gay
Body Slim
Body hair Little
Piercings No
Tattoos No
Smoking No
Speaks English
Position Bottom only
Kissing Yes
S&M Soft SM
Dirty WS only
Oral Versatile
Rate per hour On request
Overnight On request

 

______________

I_Fuck_your_daddy, 22
Knoxville

I am not into Lang chat with you I don’t care about what you do in your office job or in your fucking holiday .i don’t married you 😏
when we meet you can’t say me hi or ask about my privat live .you need my cute butt hot cock scenty balls deep mouth and sweaty armpits and I need your money
.you have to use your time when you are with me every minute costs 2€ then use your time bitch and sniff my balls lick my armpits suck my cock plow my mouth throat ass.its made for your fetish life .
i am friendy with my friends and my family not with dirty pigs 🐖 I write and answer only 4 question when ? Where ? What ? How long ?
Into alof of party and fanracy depends of what you need .
a lot of guys ask me after how can have my smells take them home? I offer my underwear shirt shoes and socks price depends of how smelly are there.

Guestbook of I_Fuck_your_daddy

hereagain_ – Aug 10, 2020
you’re better off giving your pocket money to him rather than your real kids.

tryit2xs – Aug 5, 2020
After 50 yrs finally, had sex with a man (this one). Sniffed poppers until I could not feel my toes and lapped up cum his like it was water. It was nasty; it was exciting; It was a beginning; and I want more!

Sam251 – Aug 2, 2020
i bought his feet and nutted all over them for the camera and am selling videos !!

Dick XL, Cut
Orientation Bisexual
Body Athletic
Body hair Shaved
Piercings No
Tattoos No
Smoking No
Speaks English
Position More bottom
Kissing Consent
S&M Soft SM
Dirty No answer
Oral Versatile
Rate per hour 150 $
Overnight 2000 $

 

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RapeOpferRuhr, 20
Herne

Do you like to take what you need?

TheRapeVictim is just right for you. Grope, get a blowjob, fuck, and misuse the victim according to your ideas.

After an initial consultation, the victim can become afraid of you but helpless, or disoriented as though secretly drugged, or rebellious and defensive. just choose your flavour then take what you want emphatically.

Use the victim alone, or use it in a group.

So what are you waiting for? Write quickly and book this very special experience.

Guestbook of RapeOpferRuhr

sex-fash – Aug 1, 2020

RaperRoy – July 27, 2020
Really cool number … Has kept to the agreements and has become a dream number that just got even better with rape. I have never had such a orgasm.

Masahistapo – July 12, 2020
You need a Therapist with Good service

Dick S, Uncut
Orientation Gay
Body Slim
Body hair Shaved
Piercings Yes
Tattoos Yes
Smoking Yes
Speaks German, English
Position Bottom only
Kissing Yes
S&M Yes
Dirty Yes
Oral Versatile
Rate per hour 80 €
Overnight On request

 

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Special-Top, 22
Vienna

Special top….Not the usual masculine one…got it ? I love my big painted nails .d..im rude and arogant….I care about the sex andf thats all…

Guestbook of Special-Top

Special-Top (Owner) – Aug 3, 2020
If U know me STFU!

Timorws – Aug 2, 2020
Well-known big brand in saunas before the pandemic shit. For years he has been a user and of course a small boat has survived until today thanks to the stupid sisters (and I am one of them) who pocketed him waiting for us to fuck the injured … but hey … his -for-medium- dick does not get horny even minimal as much as he sees bags on his cell phone. All he does is waste your time with pointless conversations, waiting for you to decide that you will NOT eat his dick and get up to leave (after you have paid him first, of course). We fed a lot of girlfriends. You wake up!

Dick XXL, Uncut
Orientation Bisexual
Body Slim
Body hair Shaved
Piercings No
Tattoos Yes
Smoking Yes
Speaks German, English
Position Top only
Kissing No
S&M Yes
Dirty Yes
Oral Bottom
Rate per hour 100 €
Overnight 500 €

 

_____________

hornyasfuckrn, 18
Lisbon

Hi guys

Since a year I found out that the idea of being a prostitute makes me feel really good. But I was to young for all this. Now, in may, I turned 18 so I want to find out how everything works in this business.

I just want to say that I’m very shy and that I’m definitely not the person who wants to hook up for more than sex. I’m here to find out what i like and I hope you can help me with that.

I don’t know anything about this so it would be very helpful if you could ask and explain things that you guys do.
(Example: tell me in a story what it would be to be your “bottom”, then “more bottom” and then “versatile”. I don’t know the difference between them)
(Another example: What would you rate my ass out of 10?)

Again, I don’t know anything:
The only thing I know is that i am definitely not a top and that I like the idea of prostituting.

I hope you can help me!

Guestbook of hornyasfuckrn

hornyasfuckrn (Owner) – Aug 9, 2020
I’m just loving your ejaculating cocks: they give me the feeling of being useful and loved as if I have reached my destiny.

yourpassion – Aug 7, 2020
In the pic I had rated your ass a 9, having now rimmed/fucked you I would rate it a 6.5 to 7.

THICKBBC25CM – Aug 6, 2020
At least an 8.

Nikolas4A – Aug 6, 2020
9.5

Dick M, Uncut
Orientation Gay
Body Slim
Body hair Smooth
Piercings No
Tattoos No
Smoking No
Speaks Portuguese, English
Position More bottom
Kissing Yes
S&M No answer
Dirty No
Oral Versatile
Rate per hour 50 €
Overnight 200 €

 

____________

IHaveNothing, 20
Denver

I feel so empty and disconnected from the real world. I’ve made so many mistakes in my youth to the extent that I’ve lost faith in ever being happy or fulfilled. My life lacks structure and purpose, and, as a result, it has slowly unraveled into a shredded mess.

During my freshman year in high school, my friends were mocking me for still being a virgin. I hastily used Craigslist to find a local woman that night to take my virginity. She told me the meet her by a road half a mile from school, and I made the trek at 2am. A man grabbed me instead, pushing me behind a building. He both sodomize and fucked me until I bled. I walked back home crying, and I haven’t done anything sexual since.

I’ve wrangled with my sexuality and image of myself ever since. Although I only masturbate to pictures of women, there’s a dark urge inside of me that is hoping that I get molested again by a man.

I want to submit to men for money to protect my heart and to feel like I have control of my sexual identity. I’m too afraid and anxious to have sex with a woman. I think, however, that having sex with older men will be therapeutic. I don’t care what sexual acts that we do. I just need to be overwhelmed, scared, and vulnerable so that when I look at myself in the mirror I can say that I choose to feel that way.

I know that this is a lot to read before saying hi or naming my price, but I don’t want to talk to some who doesn’t understand what I’m looking for on this site.

Guestbook of IHaveNothing

avuncular – Aug 8, 2020
He has amazing feet especially the inner ankle area.

LORD_FIRE_2020 – Aug 2, 2020
Plan to spring for the Overnight rate because it takes him forever to get drunk enough and even then you still have to bully the heck out of him and then once nude fuck him as hard as you can.

Dick L, Uncut
Orientation Bisexual
Body Slim
Body hair Shaved
Piercings Yes
Tattoos No
Smoking No
Speaks English
Position More bottom
Kissing Yes
S&M Soft SM
Dirty No
Oral Versatile
Rate per hour 100 $
Overnight On request

 

*

p.s. Hey. ** David Ehrenstein, Hi. Yes, I very much remember that you have a copy of ‘AM’, and I hope you will keep it very much to yourself unless you’re thrown out on the street or something, ha ha. Not sure I understand the list of evaluations of those films. Everyone, Mr. E has written a think piece called ‘‘Sunset Boulevard’ of Broken Dreams’ for Los Angeles Blade and it looks to be about the film of the same name and COVID among probably other things, and you should read it, no? Here it is. Yes, i just now saw that Linda Manz. That’s so sad. I wish she’d been a lot more films, but she gave three legendary performances in three immortal films, and that’s more than a lot of prolific actors can say. ** Misanthrope, Sounds like David is settling into the job. Here’s to longevity. Big up on the speediness of your new computer. ** Sypha, Hi, James. The publisher claimed that the hardback cover of ‘MLT’ disturbed and offended people which had cut into the sales of the book, which I thought was a bullshit cover story for their own negligence, but I wasn’t given any choice. ** JM, Hey, Josiah! I’ve been thinking because the news says you guys have been locked down again? Eek. There are eerie rumblings here of a rise in cases and new restrictions likely to be put back in place. Oh fuck. That 11:11 book is a curious project. More a very interesting project than a totally successful one, but total success is such an overrated goal. Oh, wow, thanks for suggesting ‘The Sluts’, and I’m chuffed that they liked it. ‘Pedro Paramo’ is an excellent pick, obviously. The ‘Mindshaft’ package does look really good, right? I think mine is on my way. have an imaginatively explosive weekend. ** Bill, I had forgotten that you managed to see ‘Cupidon’. So cool. There’s talk of reviving it, and I sure hope they do. Yes, I heard the heat traveled over to the West Coast. Shame that sun wasn’t included in the travel ban. Speaking from the other side, you’ll feel so physically virginal when it’s over. ** Okay. Yes, it’s the middle of the month, and, yes, I of course invited a bunch of escorts to use the blog as their party space. Step inside. See you on Monday.

_______________

 

‘With Alice Knott (Riverhead Books), Blake Butler’s fourth novel, the book feels like it is built not into chapters or direct scenes but rather touring the synapses as we chart every corner of the eponymous main character’s psyche. “I don’t think art exists as a concept separate from flesh,” Butler muses, when asked about the destruction of art, the main theme of the new novel. “We live in a society entirely co-opted by criminals and the demented, setting us up to exist sick, alone and unaware of what the difference between sugar and shit is. Soon even death won’t be the end of it, if we don’t start thinking ahead.”

‘And that is exactly what underlines the narrative surrounding Alice Knott: Art is existence and existence has been co-opted by a society trained to devalue its qualities.

‘The eponymously named Alice Knott is a reclusive heiress living in a secluded mansion where she obsesses over art, and particularly collecting expensive art. By using her vast monetary inheritance to buy the art, her obsession acts as defiance, the taking of currency and finding a solid, tangible object from which she can see, touch, and observe. All is well until a group of people break into her house, not to steal but rather to destroy some art. They film the destruction and upload it online. The video goes viral and starts a trend of copycats, everyone going around and destroying art.

‘It is a compelling and frightening concept, one that Butler battles on the page with ease. The novel demonstrates Butler stepping out of the personal to explore the central madness of a culture-drenched, social-media driven society. …

‘Alice Knott uses language to carve through the darkness. Here, like with his earlier work (Ever, Scorch Atlas) and his last novel, Three Hundred Million, Butler has proven himself to be a cartographer of the psyche. A camera pointed on masked individuals drenching a painting with kerosene before setting a match to it; the modern American home, idyllic and clandestine on its exterior while inside, familiar spaces like bedrooms become warzones, morphing and shifting like a body flexing and contorting: These are the sorts of images that Butler leaves behind in your mind, never to be erased. Perhaps we can learn from him and embrace it, facing our fears instead tweeting out more performance and false positivity.’ — Michael Seidlinger

 

Blake Butler Site
An Interview with Blake Butler @ The Believer
Audio: Alice Knott by Blake Butler, read by Kirsten Potter
Blake Butler @ Twitter
Buy ‘Alice Knott’

 

Blake Butler Alice Knott
Riverhead Books

‘Alice Knott lives alone, a reclusive heiress haunted by memories of her deceased parents and mysterious near-identical brother. Much of her family’s fortune has been spent on a world-class collection of artwork, which she stores in a vault in her lonely, cavernous house. One day, she awakens to find the artwork destroyed, the act of vandalism captured in a viral video that soon triggers a rash of copycat incidents. As more videos follow and the world’s most priceless works of art are destroyed one by one, Alice finds that she has become the chief suspect in an international conspiracy—even as her psyche becomes a shadowed landscape of childhood demons and cognitive disorder.

‘Unsettling, almost physically immersive, Alice Knott is a virtuoso exploration of the meaning of art and the lasting afterlife of trauma, as well as a deeply humane portrait of a woman whose trials feel both apocalyptic and universal.’ — Riverhead Books

Excerpt

The video begins with an establishing shot of a famous painting, hanging alone on a wall of white. The camera is clearly handheld, a feature divulged by its framing’s subtle waver, rather informal given the context of the forthcoming recorded act. And though the footage bears no titles, no credits, many will immediately recognize its featured image as Woman III, a work of oil on canvas composed by Willem de Kooning, according to records, in 1953.

In the painting, a sprawl of subdued color-gray, gold, blue-forms an abstract female figure shown head-on: breasts like blunted pyramids, braced beneath shoulders so broad no ambulant human could hold them upright. Mangled, muddy hips bracket the focus of her crudely rendered crotch, outsized in turn by massive, jagged hands slung to her knees. Atop it all, the woman’s diminutive face, a landscape of moon dirt, leers slyly toward the viewer, as if aware of something inevitable none among us might wish to know.

The original version of the video, unlike the truncated one eventually most widely shared by news media, allows one full minute elapsed in silence, a last glimpse of the object without suggestion of its fate. In later edits, this buildup will be cut, plunging the viewer headlong into action without preamble, for there is little time to waste.

Likewise, not until after the video has been shared online more than seven million times-a reach accrued in less than three nights following its debut-will any major news source link the painting’s fate to a related story several weeks prior, wherein said work had been reported stolen from the primary residence of its last known owner, an aging heiress by the name of Alice Knott.

Regardless of preamble, in any version of the video, a pair of masked figures eventually appears, coming in on each side of the painting from offscreen. They are dressed identically, in stark white hooded work suits that obscure their hands and faces. Together they lift the painting off the wall, turn it over flat, and hold it still, yielding no sound but the low, ambient buzz of a hot mic recording nothing.

The camera tracks the figures as they carry the painting across the room, revealing the edges of a much wider empty space, buttressed on its far end by a small formal audience seated together on silver bleachers: six men and six women, each dressed in stately fashion; the men in tuxedos, the women in gowns, the cloth of their garments as stark white as the walls are in surrounding, as if they’ve meant to blend into the space. These spectators’ faces have each been digitally obscured, leaving only a warble of busy pixels where their features might have named them. Together they look on, calm as lambs, as the painting is placed faceup before them upon a small raised platform, like a patient, of no nature to do anything but wait-a condition matching ours, the viewers’, as what we are seeing is in the past, already happened, including all as yet to come.

The camera pans then to assume the perspective of the attendees, divorcing their physical image altogether out of the shot, taking again as its primary focus the fate of the painting. There is a lingering beat, poised upon the object, in which it seems this point of pause could last forever, fill the duration of our lives with its soft looming, though, then, why exactly are we here? What are we meant to be receiving? The drift between each question and its answer spans the absence until, startlingly, against the silence, the soundtrack lurches to life: a high-treble, jarring pink noise, like a blister splitting over and over, emitting a monotone barrage of high-end squall that overrides all other possible audio in full, so much like the wide white walls that fill the space, as if to press the monotonicity of surfaces surrounding the painting through the speakers of the spectators at home.

And then, again, this time from behind and to the left of the camera, a human figure appears onscreen. This one, though, unlike the others, is wearing a chrome-lined pack strapped to its back, from which a long slim chrome nozzle extends to be wielded by the wearer, and then, from that, the bright eye of a blue node of focused flame.

The figure moves to stand over the painting at its head. They adjust a setting on the device, causing the bud of light to grow almost a foot long, the corresponding aural furor likewise intensifying, as if to permeate the viewers’ concentration.

The figure proceeds to apply then the ember of the burning to the work.

The incineration begins along the canvas’s upper left-hand edge, instantaneously eating into and through the paint wherever it is made to touch; such that during the interface the image becomes obliterated-each mark undone from its original instatement at the hand of the artist, himself expired and cremated; each inch of the creation that had survived him rendered unto ashes as the steadfast neon eye continues across its face without relent, quadrant by quadrant, stroke by stroke.

The rest is simple math, an eventuality rather than a wonder. The bright and rising buds of fire suggest some wilder version of the painting, unlock from within it some charisma of a kind that could once have been borne from a culture’s total fear of its creator. The flame is thin and wide and asks no questions. The total annihilation requires little time-the image turned to absence without so much as a whimper, any word, nothing to restrict its path to full annulment, leaving behind only loose cinder and a disseminating smoke that curls and rises from the focal point of its destruction, into thin air, as we all breathe.

At no point is any distinctive feature of the obliterator made apparent seen onscreen; only the assured, surgical attention of a person performing an assigned chore, with the same poise as one might have washing a window, digging a hole.

The destruction is beautiful itself, too, some viewers will argue, in its own way; how the flat, detached tone of the recording stands so firmly apart from its reality’s steep expense-that is, not only the $137.5 million Woman III had once commanded at auction, setting a record for the contemporary era, then breaking its own mark again a decade later in private sale to the estate of someone by the name of Alice Knott for an even more ungodly sum; but also, obviously, the permanent elimination of the existence of the work. We can already hardly remember what the painting resembled beyond fragments, many will soon find, even amid the countless replications of its likeness in archive left behind; no single feature strong enough to override our fresh perception of the char that’s been impressed upon our senses as the recording ends and we remain outside it, and there is only then the screen, at once and suddenly blank.

What did we just witness? Why had it happened? Who would have sponsored such a thing? There are, of course, no direct answers, at least none made public, and the absence results in a sprawl of theory and debate, sprung from fact into philosophy, unto exhaustion on all sides. Perhaps the video is no more than some strange hoax, some posit, a camera trick designed to stir reaction, mass attention-if so, in fact, a job well done. But to what end, and for whom? What even can be said to have been forfeited, others will ask, beyond dollars and cents; how much different, without one such image among innumerable others, could our world yet really be?

What’s not debated is how within two weeks of its original appearance online-uploaded by an anonymous user under the handle 0edipa0apide0, thereafter shared and copied countless times-the video of the obliteration of Woman III amasses more than thirty-seven million views. Attempts to ban the video from being hosted at various sites by the request of certain legal and preservation-focused entities, citing terms-of-service violation on the eventually discounted grounds of copyright infringement and even explicit content, do little more than incite further growth, as its replicating presence looms and winds, spurred forward by countless outlets responding in tones ranging from curiosity to horror, from deep regret to uncanny joy-a discursive heat within which there very quickly seems no center, like a snuff film, an act carried out against the state of human aspiration in and of itself; as what had we lived for, some conversation’s final word might yet project, if not for evidence of something sacred allowed among us, let alone within us, in pursuit of which we so often go nowhere but in circles.

Alice Knott, unlike so much else, is not at all difficult to find. She hasn’t left her house in years, a fact she offers freely, loudly, to the cameras gathered at her door, seeking comment from the destroyed painting’s final owner. She had even been home during the night of the theft, or so she claims. The spoils of that night, according to the official police report, included not only the now apparently vanquished de Kooning but several other works possessed by her estate. She’s lucky just to be alive, she might imagine; had they killed her during the job, she wouldn’t be standing here, sweating in humid daylight, left anticipating some other future way to die.

Extras

Virtual Book Launch: Alice Knott by Blake Butler

The Virtual Franklin Park Reading Series: Blake Butler, Tracy O’Neill, Maisy Card, and Ashleigh Bryant Phillips

 

_______________

 

‘Elisa Taber is a writer and anthropologist. She explores the interstice between translation and epistemology in the Nivaklé narratives of the Paraguayan Gran Chaco. Both her stories and translations are troubled into being, even when that trouble is a kind of joy.

‘In 2013 and 2016 she conducted fieldwork in Neuland, a Mennonite colony in the Paraguayan Gran Chaco, and Cayim ô Clim, the neighboring Nivaklé indigenous settlement. Her hyper-textual lyric ethnography is composed of two multi-sequential sections. The second is an ekphrastic description of 30 second films shot in Neuland and Cayim ô Clim. The first is a metonymic translation of myths from a mixture of Machaco, Guaraní and Spanish into English.

‘Elisa graduated from The New School Social Research with a Master of Arts in Anthropology. She currently serves as Editorial Assistant for the Curatorial Design Research Lab at Parsons, The New School for Design.’ — arts letters & numbers

 

Excerpt: ‘An Archipelago in a Landlocked Island’
Elisa Ayerza Taber @ Twitter
Elisa Taber @ goodreads
Al Ras — Elisa Taber
Preorder ‘An Archipelago in a Landlocked Country’

 

Elisa Taber An Archipelago in a Landlocked Country
11:11 Press

‘An Archipelago in a Landlocked Country is the lyrical storytelling of fieldwork conducted in Neuland, a Mennonite colony in Paraguay’s Boquerón department, and Cayim ô Clim, the neighboring Nivaklé settlement. The author was conceived in Neuland in 1990 and returned in 2013 and in 2016.

‘This multi-sequentially read book shifts in genre from ekphrastic descriptions of 30-second films shot in Asunción, Filadelfia, and Neuland Paraguay; to a collection of short stories inspired by metonymically translated Nivaklé myths; and finally, a novella that mythologizes the life of a third generation Mennonite woman.

These three parts are not meant to be read in order. The hypertext gestures towards the omitted films and translations. This structure attunes readers to absent presences. The author’s narratives render other kinds of realities—Nivaklé, Paraguayan, and Mennonite ways of being made over—and her own. This “unweaving” technique is inspired by Ñandutí—a spider web pattern created by unraveling threads from a piece of fabric.’ — 11:11 Press

Excerpt

Loose sand seals the holes in the hard dirt road. Pale flesh colored grains float like particles of air grown tangible. They hit a barrier and accumulate in mounds at the foot. Each grain, separate. They move in unison.

Angel watches them seep in under the heavy wooden front door to his home. In the hollow space between those four walls it grows into a cloud. Fills the space within or between his possessions. This room is not empty.

A grey film coats his bed, television and desk. Dust unlike sand is a nearly invisible lining. Run the fleshy underside of your finger across a tile to trace a line. Rubbing index against thumb feel the once dry substance turn sticky like the grease on your stove.

He sits on the floor before his low desk. A long ply-wood bench. Two piles of paper on either end. Scribbled on both are things he cannot forget. Those to his left are reminders, tasks. To his right, memories. What he does fills his days. What he remembers, his nights.

The slip in his hand flickers on a memory as vivid as the scene playing on the lit television behind him. A portable set like those in a highway toll attendant’s booth. In the dark, the sun starting to burn through drawn curtains is still too dim, the screen floods the room with steel fluorescent light.

Past midnight the national TV station streams, La Burrerita de Ypacaraí. A large breasted woman sits atop a donkey. Her lips and dress are the same shade of crimson and the sky is a phosphorescent blue. The film must have been black and white, then colored by hand.

“The day Belen died,” is the mnemonic sentence inscribed on that slip. Smudges of led where the pencil indented with intent. He remembers the facts but not her body or face. She remains fifteen years old and five foot four inches tall.

He watched the girl wait. She stood by the bus stop before the only wall enclosed home in Cayim ô Clim. It cast a shadow on the lawn within, rather than on her. The sun shined on her forehead like a bird fluttering in place. She did not seem to notice it because it did not shine in her eyes.

There was a bang. She turned to face incoming traffic. The noise came from within the brick structure she leaned on. Behind it stood a wide one-story home, a fountain that was the stature of a girl, and a parked red car. The man in the front seat has just reversed into the wall.

Like thunder precedes lightning the sound foreshadowed the fall. First the wall trembled and regained stillness. Then it collapsed. The bricks fell forth, separating from each other, struck the sidewalk or something hard. They disintegrated.

Only the base remained. A barrier tall enough to bar the entrance of rodents and cockroaches. Mice can make themselves small enough to enter through a window slightly ajar, a pipe with one end in a ditch and the other in a tub, a crack in a wall.

The cloud of crumbled bricks and the cement between them settled. The home behind the inch-high barrier was exposed. As fragile as a house of popsicle sticks. The bars on the windows remained strong. They stripped the floral drapes of their joy.

The fountain ridiculed the pile of rubble. It endured. The statue’s puckered mouth seeped water. Her thick arms still held the folding cloth that both covered and revealed her form. A moth stood on her big hairless stone toe.

Water sprinkled on its opaque but nearly translucent wings. She neither fluttered them dry nor allowed them to droop by her sides. Anything could pierce the moistened frail material. Nothing did. Particles of cement clung to the wings, making them hard.

The debris coated car concealed its occupant. Everything was still. He remained within.

He was not mourning the cost of rebuilding the wall. The door was jammed. He was squinting through the grey coating on the rear window.

Figures gathered on the sidewalk opposite his home. The words they uttered were unintelligible. Their faces indiscernible. Perhaps they were speechless, staring.

The first to arrive picked the girl from the rubble. Belen resembled a statue. Her clothes, hair and flesh were covered in fragments of rock. Hers was a dead weight. But nimbler than stone.

One held her by the armpits. The other parted her legs to grasp her knees. Arms and calves dangled. Lower back and bum curved towards the floor. The mangled body swayed as they raced to the Mennonite hospital. More harm done on the way.

She did not grimace or wail with pain. Her eyes were large and her mouth open. She seemed to see more and breathe deeper than before. “The face of a saint or an angel,” her mother said. Not that of a girl who hugged and tugged at those she loved till they struck her still.

Her mother called her la mimosa arisca. Her siblings called her cowardly. She expressed affection persistently and spontaneously but winced when others reciprocated. The desire for touch got her in trouble. Her fear got her out.

She held the hand of the girl sitting beside her in class, combed back the hair of a disheveled neighbor, stroked the back of the hand of a stranger who rested it on the supermarket counter. They all peered back at her. Each time, she pulled away and ran.

Belen filled the cracks in the walls of her home with notes. After she died they started to find them. Tugged on the diminutively folded pages by indenting index and thumbnail into the paper. With it emerged an exhale of dust.

The one for her sister read, “I love you though you are cruel when we are alone.” Her brother’s, “I love you though you ignore me at school and at home.” The one dedicated to her mother was private. It read, “I love you most of all.” She continued expressing affection and disabling reciprocation posthumously.

The crowd continued to gather before the collapsed wall. The corners of the bricks remained whole. The interior disintegrated into an inhalable powder. It stuck to the lining of their lungs. It covered the slim corpse before it was parsed out of its mold.

They gathered to see the depression her body left in the rubble. Legs touching. Hands open by her hips. A tiny head. The wall crumbled upon striking her hard bones. It killed her but took on her shape.

The bricks were old. Particles were compacted but did not adhere to each other. If struck with an axe the blade did not break and the stone did not part in two but crumbled. With the blow of the car’s steel bumper, propelled back by rolling wheels, they came apart.

Crumbled cement and fragments of burgundy bricks atop loose sand and compacted red soil. Those that pass the site of the accident, stare. They match the color to the source. Cement and sand; soil and stone, do not match the brown and grey tones of their elements.

They make a red as deep as the black sea water far offshore. You do not feel the pull to fall when you peer in. As opaque as the ephemeral clouds that float away with sand and cement. You do not imagine shapes in the soil like you would in the sky. The first is tangible.

Extras

Neuland 6VID00129

Neuland 1VID00025

 

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‘My own poetics is perhaps located somewhere between what Joyelle once called New Decadence and an anthropogenic literary imagination similar to what David Farrier describes in Anthropocene Poetics:

“[…] I follow the prompting of Neimanis and Walker to explore the thickening of the present as a point of confluence between deep pasts and deep futures. This viscosity – devolved across species and objects, as well as the divisions of place, time, culture, ethnicity, gender, sexuality, and capital that carve up the anthropos – is the basis for a new and necessary imaginative project, a world-making for the Anthropocence, in Deborah Bird Rose’s sense of becoming with others, and of Earth itself as a work-in-progress. Intimacy allows us to imagine worlds of possibility; whether in terms of texture, sensuality, or violence, intimacy achieves a form of knowledge in the traffic between entities”.

‘I feel like I have a deeply intimate understanding of my mortality (maybe it could be called a thanatopic intimacy) when it comes to our ailing, carved up planet. Lodged in the present, I feel like a Decadent in the same way some artists think of themselves as avant-garde. Not in the historical sense obviously. The ‘avant-garde’ is not necessarily a historically fixed phenomenon and I believe the same is true of Decadence. Ideologically, the Decadence of those arsenic-yellow 1890s feels reminiscent of the Graveyard Poets of the eighteenth century. I feel like all of these things – a Decadent, a Graveyard Poet, etc.

‘And what about the Gothic?

‘For instance, is Wilde’s Picture of Dorian Gray a Decadent novel or a Gothic novel? The distinction doesn’t really mater to me and I appreciate that the lines get blurred. I believe the Gothic is an ancestor of Decadence. Either way, excess lives on. Undead. Zombie-like.

‘I appreciate, most of all, that Decadence was not planned or born out of an institution. It came without instructions or a formal rubric. It was something viral, contagious.

‘You just wake up one day and suddenly – like it or not – you’re wearing a Mask.’ — Paul Cunningham

 

Paul Cunningham Site
In Conversation with Paul Cunningham
We Are Decadent Again
Paul Cunningham @ Twitter
Buy ‘The House of the Tree of Sores’

 

Paul Cunningham The House of The Tree of Sores
Schism 2 Press

‘To enter Paul Cunningham’s insidious home environment is to enter as a stranger, into his own perverse version of normalcy. With an equally deranged and seamless mix of Swedish and English, he reveals both the reader and the IKEA department store as eerie card houses or scenes, as mirror-rooms and kaleidoscopes. A madly beautiful and deeply disturbing book!’ — Aase Berg

‘The House of the Tree of Sores is made of experimental, fable-like poems tightly woven with Swedish-English translingual word plays that mock and counter-weave America’s imperial English, its values and lifestyle so deeply entrenched in global economy and violence. It’s a stunning debut that only a translator-poet could have written — Paul Cunningham.’ — Don Mee Choi

‘Paul Cunningham has an absolute page-turner here — maybe the rarest of things in poetry. The repetition is EXQUISITELY and MASTERFULLY executed. It’s one of the best things I have read in a long time.’ — CAConrad

Excerpt

I locate what looks like a blood-swathed section of shattered flooring, a crudhole where a darkening tree trunk swells. I witness trunkish pressure, compression. I see where former tentakel capillary vessels chafed and spewed their inner along and away from the jagged floorhole, I see slightly shredded pedal arteries still pumping. Charisma. A chiasma of nerve bundles, branched channels, fluid-dripping branches containing plant-like pustules. Some containing veinlines of a knife-edged green. Neuronal cytoplasm leaks from numerous growth wounds, crusts over, scabs. Weak contractions, respiratory rhythms. Tracts of rotten, deflated alveoli sway aimlessly around scabbed-over sections of rough bark. The coiling tree branches continuously, generates turning, tooth-like fibers. Grub-like musculature. The tree of sores possesses a stomach, the tree of sores possesses an esophagus. I stare at its tongue-like lobes of bark, I stare at its tiny, seemingly motorized teeth. I wait for the mouth, for the möter sounds. I wait, I listen as the sores slowly form.

 

 

I wait in the house of the tree of sores. The height-adjustable house of the tree of sores. I wait for its möter to start, for its many teeth to grind. I wade in the pulpish filth of the mosh pit of household objects, the mosh pit of grotesque möter skills. I spot a commercial proposition drooling in the corner of yet another fake room. My eyes, mutilated by household objects. I can’t see straight, I can’t—only a flickering series of lights in front of my suddenly failing eyes. On-Off-On-Off. I stage-dive, I head-bang. On-Off-On-Off. I can’t remember my name. I can’t remember my name, but I remember the names of my children. My children? What children? On-Off-On-Off.

 

 

I stand before a trunk of stains, a tree of sores. It quakes and it quakes, it makes mor möter sounds: Look at yourself, head-banger, why do you stand there, shivering, slurring coldly with your stupid flesh? Why are you neglecting your children? Why are you neglecting their eggs? The tree of sores quakes once more, suddenly pukes out a little cephalopodal something, a crochet kraken. I pick up the slimy crochet kraken, drenched in child-killing bacteria. I shoot the sharp-jawed tree a punkish grin. Eggs? I ask. Yes, you morgue-born head-banger, the tree answers. They’re lost and miming, pecking and performing the everyday gestures of this pop milieu, their pop’s mildew. Careful, crash-dummy, before you crash and burn! My body oddly bursts into flames, I drop the crochet kraken to the floor. I stop, drop, and roll. Hundreds of bumps of something crack loudly beneath my flaming roll. Ägg, ägg, ägg äggulor! ägg, ägg, ägg om, om, omelette, umm, umm, umlaut, a lot, a lot knocking, knocking, knäckt, cracking up. Cracking me up, I cry out.

 

 

Burnt bread, my bread body. Brödkavle, I keep rolling, I roll out my fires. I stare up at the tree, I stare up at the sores. I feel like a bruised roosthole, a local valve, a horahole, a horrorshow. I am up all night, blood flowing. A horhus, a hönshus. Am I hönhus? Hönsnät? Swells of my hen rolled away in the fire, I feel happy about this. But where are my children? Am I mor? Am I mother? Am I father? The lateral teeth of the tree clamp down onto my legs, sweeps my body inward. Are you their mother? Their mother tongue? Am I their mother? I ask. A channel of tied-together trash bags flap up and surround the fibrous trunk of the tree of sores. Lumen, vesicles of lens-generating tissue fills in. All over, all over. Makes, makes eyes. Eyes of light protrude from the trash bag channel of the tree of sores. Bags of swollen, of shit, of crud. I am up all night, blood flowing. I am swollen, I am shit, I am crud. I am mangled, head-banged through a kaffe table book’s table of malcontents.

 

 

Beak-first, a blue chicken emerges from the trash bag darkness. (My hand-drawn, henjawn little boy.) A yellow chicken emerges from the trash bag darkness. (My hand-drawn, henjawn little girl.) They are my cultish acolytes worn like clipped images, so BAZAAR!, cult prophets snarling, pecking, pipping. They are my children, they are my chickens. Egg-making, their assault on my language. I decide to embrace this bellicose, this ventricose vows. I am, now, ignited by translation aorta, blood system. Blood flows through my swollen caruncles, my crinkled lobe of a page.

Extras

THE HOUSE OF THE TREE OF SORES | Official Book Trailer

Alfred Hitchcock’s PSYCHO by Paul Cunningham

 

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‘When Mike Corrao and 11:11 Press approached me about being included in Collected Voices in the Expanded Field, an upcoming “collectively-written novel,” there was no hesitation. Sign me up. I’m in.

‘And, untrue to who I at least like to believe I am at my core, I asked zero questions—because I had none. I’ve known Mike and the rest of the crew at 11:11 for years now. They consistently produce cool, unconventional projects that are accessible, but that also push boundaries. I trust their vision. I trust their professionalism. I trust their process. And because I knew I was in good hands, I felt enabled to have a lot of fun with the piece I ended up writing (which became Chapter 19 of the book).

‘I won’t go too, too far into the contents, including with my own chapter (because I really want you to pick yourself up a copy and dig into the brilliant experiments within), but to clarify what “collectively-written novel” means:

‘Each chapter is written by a different author, but begins with the same two sentences: “You see a watering hole. Reprieve from the old dusty path.”

‘Authors were allowed—encouraged, in fact—to take those two sentences wherever they wanted them to go, and to convey the text that emerged in whatever form they decided was best. The results are staggering, eye-opening, and, if you’re a writer, inspiring. Seriously, flip through this book and you’ll see the texts come to life. Free to flow this way or that, all the different formats, all those different choices made by the authors, really give the collective text an incredible amount of shape and texture.

‘Please, whether you’re reading to study, reading to escape, or anything in between, do yourself a favor and give this book a shot.

‘Lastly, from the publisher, because I find it both cool and important:

‘We are selling this book (nearly) “at cost” and expect profits after printing, shipping, and credit card fees to be under 20 cents (USD) per sale. We are spending roughly $400 on contributor copies and miscellaneous overhead costs. If you enjoy the book and would like us to do another project like this one, please consider making a contribution here. In the unlikely event that we cover all of our costs, we will put the surplus funds towards a second collectively written project.’ — Garrett Dennert

 

State of the Art #5: Andrew J. Wilt of 11:11 Press
CSitEF @ goodreads
11:11 Press @ Twitter
Interview with Andrew J. Wilt
Buy ‘Collected Voices in the Expanded Field’

 

Various Collected Voices in the Expanded Field
11:11 Press

‘Collected Voices in the Expanded Field is a collectively written novel composed of 34 unique voices from the expanded field.’ — 11:11

AUTHORS: Mike Corrao * Grant Maierhofer * B.R. Yeager * Elisa Taber * Garett Strickland * Mónica Belevan * Germán Sierra * Judson Hamilton * Rosie Snajdr * Tatiana Ryckman * Joshua Rothes * Ryan Napier * Joshua Young * Benjamin DeVos * A.S. Coomer * Nathan Dragon * James Tadd Adcox * Sean Kilpatrick * Garrett Dennert * James Nulick * Christina Tudor-Sideri * Ali Raz * Vincent James Perrone * Evan Isoline * David Leo Rice * Kenny Mooney * Tyler Crumrine * Arielle Tipa * Gary J Shipley * Adam Tedesco * Mike Kleine * Jake Reber * Candice Wuehle * Andrew J. Wilt

Excerpts

Extras

Collected Voices in the Expanded Field [Trailer]

Collected Voices in the Expanded Field LIVE

 

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JOSHUA CHAPLINSKY: You’re still relatively young, yet you have over a dozen books under your belt, and that’s not counting anthologies you’ve edited and appeared in. What made you decide to become a writer so early in life?

CHRIS KELSO: I decided when I was about 18. I decided that I would forgo any prospect of making a viable living to write a book that was as good as Alasdair Gray’s, Lanark. I should have known that was an impossible, futile task. I also kind of blame writers like Dennis Cooper, Hubert Selby Jr, Burroughs, and Kathy Acker for making books seem anti-authoritarian and punk rock. For making books seem like tools of liberation from control. I also had a lecturer in Neoist pamphleteer Stewart Home who, after two meetings, pretty much encouraged me to chase writing and ditch uni. I was a demonstrably submissive teenager. I was tired of being so passive to authority so I wrote books. I didn’t even consider myself to be that young at 18. And I feel like I’m ready for the Tolstoy-stage of my career already. I’m ready to go on a pilgrimage and forget about punk rock. Writing has given me a mental age of about 75.

JC: I expect your art has been honed and has matured over the years. How has your writing changed since your first book?

CK: I’m ready to go on a pilgrimage and forget about punk rock. Writing has given me a mental age of about 75.

I used to write in a haze of anger. It was immature and unrefined, but maybe (if nothing else) passably authentic. I can’t even look at anything I wrote before 2016. I don’t recognise the angry little brat who wrote it. A pissed-off little incel with a broken ego, weary with affluenza. I think I take time now and I think I write more responsibly. As you get older I suppose you’re expected to. The themes are the same, I just tend not to attack them like a rowdy punk anymore. There’s less to prove.

JC: What draws you to writing challenging, sometimes experimental fiction? Is it the money? It can’t be the money.

CK: It is definitely not the money. It could be something as simple as the liberty from control it offers – a strategic means to achieve freedom from authoritarian systems. From social control, diluted-consciousness, from the prison of standardised language. I’ve never been interested in plot or characters. I think there’s more in the DADA collage or the agrammaticality of E.E. Cummings. It just appeals to something vital in me. Survival: a desire to distance myself from that castrated, timid little boy who is terrified of stepping outside society’s circle of conformity. I’m always trying to outrun him. The day he catches up to me is the day I write some moronic potboiler.

 

Chris Kelso Site
the dregs, by Matt Neil Hill
THE DREGS TRILOGY BY CHRIS KELSO: BOOK REVIEW
Author Interview: Chris Kelso – Vistas
Buy ‘The Dregs Trilogy’

 

Chris Kelso The Dregs Trilogy
Black Shucks Books

‘From British Fantasy Award-nominated author Chris Kelso comes The Dregs Trilogy, a transgressive odyssey in three installments – SHRAPNEL APARTMENTS (Ginger Nuts of Horror Book of the Year 2017), UNGER HOUSE RADICALS (Ginger Nuts of Horror Book of the Year 2016) and RITUAL AMERICA – that will leave you dazzled, fascinated and shocked in equal measure.’ — BSB

‘If there is such a thing as weird fiction, then this is it, with a capital ‘W’’ — John Langan

‘A saxophone solo from the dark corner of a whiskey-soaked club, full of texture, haunting melody, and darkness.’ — Nate Southard

‘Someday soon people are going to be naming him as one of their own influences.’ — INTERZONE magazine

Excerpt
from 3:AM Magazine

The Carson-Bastard came to my rented apartment in Foshan and he knew to pay with a sandwich baggie of opium — it wasn’t Lu’s pharmaceutical-grade merchandise, but I was jonesing something fierce — and he knocked in a series of three knuckle-wraps to the beat of ‘We Will Rock You’ by Queen: I remember he hit a certain part of the stile for the first two ‘stomps’ then a different part for the ‘clap’.

*stomp, stomp, clap* *stomp, stomp, clap*

That’s what it sounded like to me anyway. Pretty deliberate.

I was into calisthenics back then and was in the middle of a pistol squat when the door went. I answered singing ‘You got mud on yo’ face. You big disgrace, kickin’ your can all over the place, singin…’ under my breath and there was the Carson-Bastard, just standing there, hard as a towel rack. I noticed he was white too, saw the clear bag of drugs, and let him in. At first I thought he might’ve been a dumb slum-tourist. But he was just a scruffy sonofabitch — an average-looking hillbilly in a tattered flannel shirt and pre-shrunk, sandpapered jeans. He forwarded the heroin. I thanked him and went instantly to prepare it.

“So where you from?” — I asked, knowing he was a southerner before a single syllable fell out of his mouth. He didn’t answer, just shuffled on the spot, all edgy and nervous. I decided to wait to take my drugs. The guy seemed to need reassurance and I initially felt a little sorry for him. He reminded me of a guy called Benny who worked in the one of Lu’s drugstores in the sprawl as a soda-jerk — quiet and jittery but prone to explosive fits of violence when cornered into an unfamiliar setting. I think it’s an autistic thing. Kid gloves, I assumed. I offered the Bastard a drink and he said he’d take a Blue Ribbon. All I had was a six-pack of Reeb. He took a can and glugged it down while I teased out the femoral vein in my groin.

“You want a hit to relax you? I’ll put it on your tab.” — I offered.

“I only take heroin in the ass.”

Fine, I thought, that’s fine.

So I dissolved the drugs into an oral syringe while he dropped his jeans and started lubing up his asshole with spit. The Carson-Bastard got on all fours, in a kind of Aztec push-up stance, and, to be honest, I was just relieved he was clean down there.

“Here it comes.”

And I inserted the dropper before carefully descending the plunger as if I were administering some anal antidote for Dengue Fever. He had a tattoo of a skull on his rear haunch that stared right through me. I watched the lining of his rectum change colour, from burnt umber to a field-drab-desert-sand colour. I watched his balls retract and he moaned a great moan of pleasure-relief. He arched his back and flexed his toes until the ankle cracked. His fingers clacked on the parquet flooring to what I thought was the beat of Stevie Wonder’s ‘Superstitious’, but upon reflection might’ve been Slayer’s ‘Raining Blood’. This only heightened my desire to try out his brand and method. The asshole suddenly became the stream in the peach orchard that leads to paradise. I wanted the drug to flow through me and manifest itself in musical tics. I slid my jogging bottoms down over my knees and got on all fours on the couch. The Carson-Bastard was flopped on the floor now, pawing at the air. His dick was out and still hard and, judging from his boner, I figured he might’ve laced the heroin with Viagra — it was a good size too, a little thin and curved like an overripe banana, but nice enough; the shaft was wormy with veins and he clutched it aggressively in an immense, hairy hand.

I started thinking this wouldn’t be such a hassle after all.

“Would you mind?” — I asked him, hoping he’d return the gesture out of courtesy.

“Sure, I guess.” — He was less anxious now. I waited patiently with my back to him, ass presented high in the air, expecting the warm numbness to sweep its way up my abdomen and hit any minute. That’s when I felt the serrated knife edge graze the skin of my ball sack. Before I know it my head’s being yanked back hard and the Carson-Bastard has a fistful of my hair in his clutch.

“Don’t move.”

I tell him I wasn’t going to fucking move. He drags one of the knife-teeth along my sack and I feel it tear the skin ever so slightly. A dribble of warm blood trickles down my inner thigh.

“Got any CD’s?” — He asked.

I could barely get the words out of my throat. The blood ran to my knee and split off in red veins down over my shin.

“Got any fuckin CD’s” — He asked again, tugging my hair until the roots screamed.

“Over in the corner, next to the TV!”

He pulled me upright by the scalp and led me to the TV.

“Got any ‘Spengler’s Eulogy’? I haven’t heard the ‘sound’ in so long, it’s making me crazy.”

“No, I don’t think so man…”

“Well find me some sound collages!”

He threw me to the floor and I landed on my knees. A pool of blood formed on the floor. My dick wibbled around between my legs, half recoiled in fear. I had no idea what ‘sound collages’ were meant to be.

“Are they a band? ‘Sound collage’…a band?” — That’s how ignorant I was back then.

“You playin’ funny you fag? It’s the ‘sound’, you know the ‘sound’? I know your type, you’re slicker than owl shit.”

I could only whimper apologetically and suddenly the serrated knife edge slid beneath the hummock of my Adam’s apple.

“Please…please don’t kill me.” — I begged.

“Please don’t kill you?”

“Please…”

“I could kill you if I wanted. It’d be so fucking easy, so fucking easy. My family are all killers and rapists. That shit runs through my veins.” — To illustrate, he rolled up his sleeves and, with two fingers, patted his left forearm until a thick vessel surfaced. He mouthed a repeat of ‘through my veins’.”

“So, what do you want?”

“What’s that? What do I want?” — His voice broke to a squeal on the word ‘want’.

Then he stopped, retracted the blade and considered my question.

“What do I want? Good question” — the aggression had vanished and he slipped into a stage-whisper.

“Alfie, what do I want?”

How did he know my name? Maybe I came recommended. Maybe he was on a second wind from the heroin. It came in waves you see. The Carson-Bastard sat with his back to the couch. The knife had fallen by his side and he had a lazy grip over the handle. The window behind me led onto a retractable fire escape. I knew I had half a chance of escaping, as long as I timed the jump to the stairwell properly. I inched towards the window and the Carson-Bastard just stared sleepily into space repeating my question “what do I want?”

“They say you can hide from Blackcap if you burn all yours dreams. Dreams are like tracking devices. He can follow you. Why would you ever want to outrun him anyway?”

It was then that I saw it — the Carson-nose, the jutted jaw, those spherical fish eyes. There was never a family face so cosmically…inhuman. I got a feeling in my chest like a thousand spiders were scurrying about, rattling their pincers off the underside of my breast plate, twanging my arteries, replacing sinew with silk. I knew exactly which family he came from. The face we all used to fear as children. The scary spiders were back.

Back in Amber Acre, during another life, the Carsons were a reviled bunch. It seemed that the mean genes never thought twice about skipping a generation; they were all considered as detestable as each other. My old childhood friend William Bentley and I, we got the eldest son Jed, Beau’s brother, a two-year stretch, this is before they sent him away for killing an entire family.

You see, when Billy and I turned twelve we started experimenting a lot. We wound up taking pictures of roadkill, squirrels flattened to a tack at the side of the highway, dogs halved by long-haul behemoths — that sort of thing. Then we graduated to pictures of human bodies. We looked at Billy’s foster-dad’s old collection which he kept in a shoebox under his bed.

Our favourites were old Vietnam pictures:

A father offering the limp body of his child to a squad of apathetic South Vietnamese Rangers. Billy thought the picture was great because it showed how unfeeling the Kong was, even to each other. It was something he admired.

There was one where the corpse of a U.S. paratrooper, killed in action in the jungle near the Cambodian border, was being lifted by an evacuation helicopter and he looked like an angel ascending to heaven.

Extras

The Dregs Trilogy – Trailer

Chris Kelso // The Bell

 

 

*

p.s. Hey. ** David Ehrenstein, It’s a serious goodie, I agree. ** Misanthrope, ‘Splendid’! Well, thank you. Glad you were able to weasel away. Seems rude of Kayla’s mom. One time in the early 80s, my girlfriend (you read that right) of the time organised a big, secret birthday party for me at my apartment. I came home from somewhere, tired, in a bad mood, opened the door and, like, 30 people I knew and barely knew jumped out and proceeded take over my apartment and get drunk for hours until I lost my shit and threw them all out. I still think of that as one of the worst times of my life. Simple, effective gifts there, nice. Uh … did David score the gig? They’re still saying the temp will drop 8 to 10 degrees tomorrow, and they had better be the fuck right, that’s all I have to say. ** Golnoosh, Hi, Golnoosh! I’m very glad the post interested you. I really like ‘Daughters of the Dust’, and also especially ‘Four Women’ and ‘Illusions’. I hope your horrible heat dies tomorrow like ours is supposed to. Or even today in your case, dare I hope. I hope you’re finding all kinds of ways to make the heat seem un-annoying. ** Bill, Hi. Cool. Stick to ‘DotD’ and the earlier stuff. I knew or intuited that you like the early Quays. It’s a nice post. The maker did a good job. It’ll get here in, uh, a week and a half, I think. ** _Black_Acrylic, Hang in there, heat-beset bud. We had a glorious bout of thunder and lightning and sprinkling last night, but its aftereffects only lasted about an hour. Fucking nature, man. So selfish. So you head up to Dundee this weekend? ** Steve Erickson, I can’t speak for London, but Paris can get this hideous mugginess that makes every temperature feel 10 or more times higher. Good luck with that curious sounding track-in-progress. No thoughts on Julie Dash, Mr. film buff? I … don’t think I’ve done a post on Michael Almereyda. I have to say your description of ‘Tesla’ is not whetting my appetite. Especially that karaoke thing. And Ethan Hawke. But who knows. I’ll read your reviews ASAP. Everyone, Mr. Erickson has reviewed Matmos’ forthcoming album THE CONSUMING FLAME and the new album by Matmos dude Drew Daniel’s project Soft Pink Truth here. ** bonny finberg, Hi, Bonny! So nice to see you here. You just posted your email address and nothing else? Was that a clue? xo ** Corey Heiferman, Hi, Corey. I don’t know Musexplat or either of those bands, and my Spanish is very rusty, so I’ll go take advantage of the the lot, thank you! Well, I certainly am excited about your new blog project. Sounds very needed, yes indeed. I sort of very gradually eased into writing reviews and criticism. I wrote record previews for a local newspaper that hardly anyone read when I was in high school and then just kind of kept going until I was writing for actual places people read. I never completely felt comfortable doing reviews, or journalism either really, and I still don’t, or I didn’t when I stopped doing that altogether. I never felt comfortable foisting my opinion on people, although writing negative reviews were kind of fun, and I don’t think that kind of writing is suited to a nitpicky perfectionist type like me. Interested to read your critical voice. ** Okay. Today, as you already know, I’m showing you five books that I, yes, read recently and, yes, loved as a form of recommendation in your regards. Check ’em out. See you tomorrow.