Erotic Fiction/movie (2001)
O.K., so I have this idea for an erotic art film (triple X). It starts with this elfin girl naked and covered in glitter running through a forest, she runs out the forest on to a beach, she falls down on the beach as the sun is rising. Then through trick photography, the sun rises and begins to set in seconds. As the sun sets, a creature (played by me) rises out of the ocean. The monster is grey and covered in grey rags is covered in large chains and locks. He reaches out toward her and two midgets rise from the sand. They are the color of sand and their eyes are wild with lust. They grab the frightened girl’s arms. The creature from the sea puts his dick in the girl’s mouth and she sucks him off. Then the two midgets start to suck her tits then fuck her. All the while, she is sucking the sea creature. Then they all get off and the sea creature points to a city. She looks long at the city, and then the creature vanishes.
From there we see her wander naked into a laundry mat where she runs into a redneck transvestite doing laundry and listening to the smiths. The transvestite recounts to her a story of coming from Florida to the city. She/he offers a dress to the girl (who never speaks). The two then kiss and the girl leaves afterwards he/she masturbates. The girl walks down the street dazed and in awe of everything. Until she encounters a gang of Spanish dykes who grab her and rape her in an alley. She escapes as they get off and runs down the sidewalk until she runs into a big black man. He confronts her and takes her home. He feeds her, baths her, then fucks her up the ass, and cums on her face. Then he makes a phone call and smokes a cigarette.
Later he takes her to a mansion where she was sold, to a man in a white robe and a Ceaser crown. His house filled with freaks and circus people. A huge orgy in sues. Footage of war plays through the windows. As everyone in the orgy gets off one by one-she makes her escape once again, and runs away. She ends up at the forest that she was originally running through. There she finds a naked man of considerable beauty. He says, "Did you find what you were looking for" (in French). She says, "The more things change the more they stay the same." (In French). They then make passionate love on a canopy bed in the Forest. Then the two stands side by side, turn into wolves, and run away.
~! Soundtrack provided by ME!
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Posted By The L to The Royal Monkee Armada Reader! at 1/29/2009 08:13:00 PM
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Now playing: David Cross – "You Go, Girl! "
via FoxyTunes
The rally began peacefully at three p.m., four two hours people slowly filed in and gathered around a small circle of people who took turns with the microphone calling for justice, promoting their silly spoken word, praising their god or tearfully recounting the litany of names that have fell before Oscar Grant. The crows grew restless and many young Anarchist from nearby Berkeley milled about. Each time a rabble rouser dared touch the mic another speaker would immediately snatch it back and tell the crowd there was no need for emotions! There was no need to get that upset or for things to turn ugly. I stood about ten feet away snapping pictures and watching the mood shift and change. The tired old chants start up then quickly fade away. I looked up at the balconies where undercover cops snapped their own pictures of the protesters. The helicopters circled above, many of them from the local news that also swarmed the crowd inward and outward. Their seemed at first to be more people there with cameras than without. I took a back seat moved closer to a wall and struck up a conversation with one of the few people there who also live in the neighborhood. A young black man like me, who had simply come from the dentist office and ran into this steadily growing protest, we commented on how we had never seen this many white people in the neighborhood and how we hoped it wouldn’t come to more than just talk. Little did we know that it would be these young white kids that would bring about some of the change we desired? At the point when I thought I could stand no more spoken word promotion, the call was given to take the protest to the streets and march to somewhere. Those around me had no clue as to where, but we were tired of standing and listening and were ready to move. A large procession headed down International Boulevard towards downtown Oakland. Waving signs and banners and stopping traffic. The police were ready and within seconds five police cars were slowly trailing the procession. They blocked off side streets as to keep us from taking it to the residential neighborhoods that bordered the main drag. We walked and walked with no seeming direction, the destination was passed through the crowd like your usual game of telephone. No one seemed to be sure of where we were going. Every couple of blocks it felt as though the cops had blocked the path, then we would proceed. Until corralled to a side street, one with less traffic parallel to our unknown destination. Someone in the front of the pack must have had an idea of where we were going but I was at the tell end with the elderly and my fiancé. We talked and discussed the events that brought all of us strangers to this point in the middle of the road. The injustice suffered by Oakland citizens for so long, and the history of civil unrest that famed the city so long ago intertwined. I was introduced to a woman claiming to be the first female Black Panther. We talked about Oscar Grant, Bill Clinton, and Malcolm X’s speech writer. Before we knew it we were downtown and several children who had joined us somewhere around The Jack in the Box and The Polo Loco had begun to randomly smash the windows of a police car. Within an instant they were on top of the car, and then after each window had been removed they attempted to overturn the car. As they were busying themselves with the task, some of the young Berkeley Anarchist decided to light a fire in a small dumpster and roll it near the patrol car. This is when the peaceful march finally turned up the adrenaline. In came the police in full riot gear, far quicker than one might expect. My first thought is that the initial agitators where somehow undercover officers. It wouldn’t surprise me. The crowd I witnessed from three to five at the Fruitvale station was not organized enough to start a riot. It could have been the kids that joined off the street. Earlier they had run into a store and knocked over items and stole a hand full of Slim Jims. Things were moving fast by then I had no time to think I tried my best to snap off a few pictures, of which none came out clear enough. I missed the shots I waited all day for and my fiancé was screaming my name for me to run. The tear gas canisters started popping off and I saw a young girl on her ten speeds get popped in the arm with one. To my right another young girl was screaming as two police officers pulled her arms in separate directions as if in a make shift drawn and quartering. I saw a few of the Berkeley kids against the side of a church caught like dears in proverbial headlights. The cops were yelling it was time to go home as the crowd scattered. I decided for once they were right. I had no idea those that managed to escape the initial burst of violence would go on to create more havoc. Though, I suspect when they ran into the usual contention of thuggish teens that spend their nights on the streets downtown that things extrapolated. Once home the evening news showed a few bike riders and protesters survived long enough to draw out the city’s mayor. There was no need for much of the store front smashing; Oakland is poor and rundown enough. Though as someone who arbores driving I applaud the old fashion 
