Come together.

By Pippo Lionni: “PRIMETIME FUCKME.”

The great porn hunt.

A trip down memory lane…

Sin Titulo: I just saw this and had a good chuckle. Look at the post by user “poseidon.”

Luna de Miel: Aww, I miss CK. Was just talking about porn last night on the phone and the “hunt” for that perfect video.

Sin: I miss it too. And the huuunntttt, yes. So perilous, so full of deceptions. It’s like some kind of strange ritual. Like the British and their tea. Or, fox hunting. You feel like you should be eating a special breakfast before hand and putting on gloves and reciting an ancient prayer with your genitals before opening up several tabs in your browser and hitting up all your favorite porn sites. But, of course, the exact opposite is true.

Luna: But it seems so … urgent and important. It HAS to be the right one, and it has to be the right moment in the video. I’m very picky. I hate coming too soon and maybe missing a better one later on in the video. But .. in the end, I usually feel like I’ve just wasted two hours and now my hands are cramped and my laptop is out of batteries. You don’t feel that way when you’ve been fooling around with someone for 2 hours. Quite the opposite. Usually.

Sin: I know what you mean. Fuck, I know what you mean. There’s nights where the hunt is just… After an hour, you know you’re going to get off to something… sub par. But you keep the hunt up, massively unenthused. Then, there’s nights where all your clips/videos are hot, but still not right. Still not perfect. So you keep going, treading on through promising stuff that’s not right for the moment and that very special and very sad kind of blue balls you can only get during “the  hunt.”

Luna: There’s a point where you’ve come too far. Sure, you can go to bed and just forget it, but you’ve worked so hard for this, you know? You have to finish up now. Or it might start hot and then someone does something to mess up the flow.

Sin: The video is hot but you’re looking for that right string of 30 seconds to a minute to two or three minutes by which you’re really going to put the finishing touches on that special masterpiece you’re working on, which is, well, yourself.

Luna: But what’s interesting is it has to provoke the right kind of images in your head, bc you’re usually not really thinking of the video. Maybe you are, but for the really good ones… it just goes back to something else in your brain.

Sin: So true. No matter how vague or oblique or indiscriminate. Something you see there reminds you of something from your memories or your fantasies. You’re exploring a part of yourself that you can’t see normally with your own eyes (or maybe don’t want to). It’s either something you’ve seen before and would kill to see again or something you’ve always been looking for.

Luna: But… yeah. I haven’t seen anything lately that’s really stuck in my head as remarkable. It all blurs together into a mess of body parts.

Sin: I’ve seen one or two that have really done the trick. Memorable? No. I feel like there’s weird ages of porn clips on the internet. Or eras. Or aeons, but they fade away into dust and blow away with the wind. Nothing lasts forever. I’m nostalgic for clips I jacked off to a year ago and can’t seem to find anywhere. No one likes feeling left behind. Especially when you’re sitting in front of a computer screen and holding your dick in hand.

Luna: Yeah, I know the feeling. There’s always that phantom clip that will haunt you. If only, if only you could find it again…

And the word is?

by Bettina Rheims, from here and here.

BRB.

You can blame it all on me.

So.. we haven’t been around lately. A whole three months. I think I can speak for my co-blogger when I say that we’re sorry. A lot of things are different now, so the future of this dark little place? I’d be lying if I said it wasn’t up in the air. But, who can ever tell? Maybe we’ll be back. Or maybe just one of us. Keep us in your RSS reader or bookmarks, maybe it’ll show up again and it’ll be like the 20 dollars you stashed in a pair of jeans you haven’t worn in 6 months. Till next time…

Pidgin Tolstoy and articulate Henry James.

“The women in my life have all been librarians, English teachers, or booksellers. If they couldn’t speak pidgin Tolstoy, articulate Henry James, or give me directions to Usher and Ox, it was no go. I have always longed for education, and pillow talk’s the best.”

-Ray Bradbury in his foreword to A Passion for Books (1999) by Harold Rabinowitz and Rob Kaplan.

The city that never sleeps.

Sleep is overrated, if you ask me. Sleep when you’re dead.

This shining pool.

How Lovely Wetness Makes The Flesh

by Tennessee Williams

How lovely wetness makes the flesh

our bodies will declare

when we step from this shining pool

into the shining air

How lovely passion makes the lips

our kiss will testify

when we step from this brilliant earth

into the brilliant sky

from the June 2009 issue of Harper’s, which adds that the poem “was written on the stationery  ofthe Hotel Woodstock, the poem dates from 1939, when Williams visited New York City to attend the World’s Fair.

at night alone, i marry the bed

The Ballad of The Lonely Masturbator

by Anne Sexton

The end of the affair is always death.

She’s my workshop. Slippery eye,

out of the tribe of myself my breath

finds you gone. I horrify

those who stand by. I am fed.

At night, alone, I marry the bed.

Finger to finger, now she’s mine.

She’s not too far. She’s my encounter.

I beat her like a bell. I recline

in the bower where you used to mount her.

You borrowed me on the flowered spread.

At night, alone, I marry the bed.

Take for instance this night, my love,

that every single couple puts together

with a joint overturning, beneath, above,

the abundant two on sponge and feather,

kneeling and pushing, head to head.

At night alone, I marry the bed.

I break out of my body this way,

an annoying miracle. Could I

put the dream market on display?

I am spread out. I crucify.

My little plum is what you said.

At night, alone, I marry the bed.

Then my black-eyed rival came.

The lady of water, rising on the beach,

a piano at her fingertips, shame

on her lips and a flute’s speech.

And I was the knock-kneed broom instead.

At night, alone, I marry the bed.

She took you the way a woman takes

a bargain dress off the rack

and I broke the way a stone breaks.

I give back your books and fishing tack.

Today’s paper says that you are wed.

At night, alone, I marry the bed.

The boys and girls are one tonight.

They unbutton blouses. They unzip flies.

They take off shoes. They turn off the light.

The glimmering creatures are full of lies.

They are eating each other. They are overfed.

At night, alone, I marry the bed.

It’s about nothing.

We’ve written about the lovely Ashlynn Brooke here before but I’m sad to have just discovered that she’s a staple in the ridiculous porn parodies that’ve been out there. I guess I’m not really against the idea of pornographic parodies of normal creative properties, but they’re not even remotely funny, it seems. The latest one she’s in is literally just called Seinfeld – An XXX Parody.

A porno about nothing? Yeah, I hope so, but I’m not expecting any deepness from this other than, well, how deep the cocks go? Ehhh. But the Seinfeld parody joins a long roster of others, sending up The Office, 30 Rock, and even mediocre fare such as Scrubs.

Ashlynn Brooke as the Jane Krakowski character from 30 Rock in the porn parody.

And you have to admit that the porn parody version of The Office looks interesting, right? And talk about an all star cast.

Oh, Ashlynn Brooke, I want to tell you that you’re so much better than appearing in shit like this, but truth be told, if presented with the opportunity, I’d watch this shit. Fuck yeah, I’d watch it.