The Legend Lives On

My friend Gretchen was having dinner at a restaurant in Greensboro, NC, where I went to college. Her waiter said he recognized her.

“I think we met at a party.”

“Um. I don’t really go to parties.”

“Yeah, it was one of John Russell’s parties.”

“Oooooooh. Oh yeah.”

A week later I found this on her boyfriend’s blog:

Funny story. I had a friend who worked at a local Adam & Eve for about a year before moving to NYC, where he now works in a sex shop and is a sex writer.

He said that whenever married men came into the store alone the conversation went something like this:

"Hey...I need a giant dildo/vibrator."

"Um...okay."

"It's not for me! It's for my wife. She's...well, I think she's frigid."

"Really? Well...um...maybe I could interest you in a book..."

"No, no ...just show me your biggest toy."

At which point my friend's head would nearly explode. As he wrapped up the 14'' sex toy and handed it to the guy with a smile he'd think: "She's not frigid, pal. She just doesn't want to do it with you..."

It's nice to know the legend lives on.

North Carolina

Tonight I am sober, sunburnt, and half crazed. I don’t think I’ve been this horny since I was 14 years old, and the only words I can find are hacked-up, tired clichés. Desire frustrated is a mean, nasty thing; a shaking, violent, cage-rattling ape, rabid and beautiful and angry.

But I don’t really feel angry or violent. Actually, I feel pretty elated. It’s like there’s a live bird in my chest, not an ape, light and fluttering, flapping it’s wings, making gusts of air that catch in my throat.

Being in North Carolina always does this to me. It’s Pavlovian; I was 14 here, this is where sex exploded into my mind – taut, wiry muscled marines; guys with sunburns, shaved heads, driving around shirtless in outdated cars that smell like roses and cigarettes; smell of sand, salt, sea, heat; bushy, unkempt pubic hair – so whenever I’m here, it’s like I am 14. My cock stirs and it’s like the first time, like it’s never been touched. Every inch of my body is awake, my skin crawling, grasping. It’s heavy and light at the same time, alive all around me, surrounding me, swallowing me, gliding over my skin, licking me like flames (see what I mean about clichés?), heavy between my legs. A soft, thick ache, a pulling in the center of me. And I’m out of breath and anxious, itching, squirming. After hours in the sun, I’m warmed, ignited, ready. I loosen, eyes roll, heart jumps...

Bathroom Interview: Tommy Hottpants

Tommy Hottpants is one of my favorite NYC DJs, partly because of his penchant for playing Siouxsie and the Banshees and the Cure and Romeo Void, and partly because I really really really want to make out with him. Seriously. I think I had a boner during this whole interview.

John: So Tommy Hottpants, where are your hot pants?
Tommy Hottpants: My hot pants…well, I’m not wearing anything under my jeans, so they’re not there, but they may be in my suitcase which is packed up and ready to go to San Francisco in like 2 hours.

J: So these aren’t you’re hot pants?
TH: No. No these are not my hot pants.

J: If you had to DJ a porno, what would your porno soundtrack be?
TH: Probably something along the lines of a remix of this Faint song, a little bit of Manson, a little bit of Mötley Crüe. And perhaps…Def Leopard? It’s all about the metal stripper thing, you know? For me at least. You’ve gotta be wild and sexy in bed or else it’s not gonna happen, you know? Nothing pussy like Björk.

J: You think Björk is a pussy?
TH: She’s great. I want to meet her. I totally would like to hang out with Björk. But, for sex music…No. You know, none of that lovey dovey, like tweeky, creeky coo coo coo…none of that.

J: So if you’re going to be having sex tonight, what song will you be having sex too?
TH: Well, I will be having sex in an airplane. High above the skies.

J: Where are you going?
TH: San Francisco. My flight’s at six o’clock in the morning. And there will most definitely be sex in the Mile High Club. Already a member. Yeah, it’s gonna be hot. And in San Francisco it’s just gonna continue.

J: Umm…I think I’m out of questions. What would you ask me if you were doing this interview?
TH: Top or bottom?

J: Oooh. Both, definitely.
TH: Versitile! Oh that’s nice. Um, if you were locked in a bathroom and you could be with anyone, name four people.

J: I don’t know.
TH: I’ll answer my own question. It’s gonna be Pierre Fitch. Look him up online. He’s the hottest porn star ever. You’re gonna fall in love with him. It’s gonna be Pierre Fitch, Nikki Six, Henry Rollins, maybe, because you need one muscle guy. And probably Heath Ledger, but a la Ten Things I Hate About You, but without the hair. So that’s the bathroom party.

10:45

10:45 Sunday night, I call Dave.

Me: Should I go out?

Dave: I’m in. At home I mean.

Me: Why?

Dave: Do you want to go to Hiro?

Me: I don’t know. Maybe.

Dave: I can be ready in 20 minutes.

Me: Twenty minutes?

Dave: Oh, come on! Like we don’t go out this late on Tuesday nights!

Me: No. I should stay in.

Dave: Why?

Me: I’m behind on, like, two writing assignments.

Dave: Do you really think you’ll get any work done tonight?

Me: I’m feeling restless.

[silence]

Dave: You still there?

Me: I’m looking at myself in the mirror to see if I feel sexy.

Dave: Yeah?

Me: I feel sexy.

Dave: Ok?

Me: Ok. Lets go.

Dave: Really?

Me: I’m committed.