We Did Porn: Memoir and Drawings by Zak Smith

Author:Zak Smith
Language: eng
Format: mobi
Tags: Art, Social Science, Pornography, Popular Culture, Architects, General, Photographers, American, Entertainment & Performing Arts, Artists, Biography & Autobiography
ISBN: 9780982053928
Publisher: Tin House Books
Published: 2009-07-01T02:33:04+00:00

Like Porn Only a Place

After the Berlin festival in the fall, the next big porn thing is the Adult Video News Awards in Las Vegas in January.

It is of an altogether different character.

At the terminal we pass the slot machines for people who have to gamble as soon as they land and the cube-shaped glass-walled stores to buy chocolates and McCarron International’s shockingly competent and stylishly executed stone-carved statues of oversized desert animals, which are the most, and possibly only, intentionally beautiful inanimate objects inside the city limits. Our hotel is next to a charred ruin. We go to Max Clamm’s party at a place he’s rented for the weekend called (like, on the actual documents) “The Pimp House.” I start playing pool in a purple room with Clamm but he trundles off halfway through and lets his Vietnamese assistant finish for him. This is the way Clamm—with his shop-teacher glasses and rickety jokes—does everything.

Scholar, author, activist, intermittent dominatrix, and ex-whore Auspicia Clay and I sit in a giant chair shaped like a man’s hand instead of doing what everyone else is doing, which is standing in the kitchen watching a girl shoot darts at balloons using pussy air squeezed through a blowgun she holds to her twat with her feet. She usually misses, and then Nasty Carl puts on a film he directed where I have sex. I ask why there aren’t any dwarves and someone explains that the dwarf or little person who had been at the Pimp House had been a nuisance and had left or been made to leave. I eat lasagna and nachos and Wheat Thins while the man with the world’s largest genital piercing asks me to choke him. People who are sex clowns or have sex with clowns watch themselves in movies where people have sex with clowns or are themselves sex clowns. One of them explains that he supports our troops and sends them his clown porn (and this has been independently confirmed by servicemen). I don’t think anyone has sex at the party and people are mad at the man with the world’s largest genital piercing (which you could put your hand through, but I don’t—and I also don’t choke him) because he pushes someone into the swimming pool.

The next morning I go to a corner store that has the alert, dangerously unreadable personality of someone on a lot of something and afraid of running out of it, to buy something for pimples or razor burn. One of the three clerks behind the counter at the corner store says, “$11.95? Damn, I go to Wal-Mart!” and they all laugh a lot and keep saying more things and I go away because the corner store scares me.

I walk across the parking lot, passing the burnt ruin, which someone at the hotel had explained had been a pizza parlor but last week a man came and set it on fire and stood and watched it burn until the police came to take him away.

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