Status Updates From Rent Boy

crazy book to start reading on the train

...for some reason reality never quite coincides with what you imagine.

...by the lights of so-called society, but let’s look at the government for a moment as a sort of gang that services its own needs. Look around you, Crashnitz said. It no longer feeds the hungry, it doesn’t house the homeless, it lets the streets and the city fall into ruin. Its only purpose is to keep money in the hands of the people who have always had all the money, and to keep everyone else under control.

she hands me the spare helmet and we tear off into the wilds of stinking old New York City at night, the valium’s kicking in and I’ve got my arms around Sandy’s waist and there’s mist in the air, blue-white mist like the vanishing residue of scenes and people gone long ago, it made you feel there was still some magic in the world somewhere

You know, they’ve got a special guy to plastic wrap and price your vegetables, you can’t just take them to the checkout, it’s like this church where everybody worships overpriced food.

The bitch of it is, it’s a zillion times more swishy without the fucking condom, it’s like you feel the other person’s insides all warm and wet, you really feel yourself inside them, it’s two people losing themselves in each other’s bodies, except of course the whole time I’m also thinking, “This has death in it, this is life and it’s also death.”

I bought the complete poems of Elizabeth Bishop and a Dennis Cooper book Xavier told me about and just for laughs I bought the new Sandy Miller novel, The Devil’s Panties, which has a quote from some minor cheese on the back that says reading Sandy Miller is like playing Scrabble with the Marquis de Sade, which I guess is a compliment, even though they didn’t have Scrabble during the French Revolution.

“Chip tells us you study architecture,” Crashnitz said. “That’s an interesting field.”
“It sure is,” Mavis crooned, slurping champagne. “I just love buildings. I mean, you look around, they’re everywhere!”

Well, that’s what they’ve got, a body, you might as well work it while you’ve got it, especially if your brain is the size of a dead flashlight battery and nothing much is going to happen later on. I don’t want to shock you or anything, but one of the major drags of this profession is having to talk all the time to people with low mentality.

Sandy says her books are like commentaries on capitalism and stuff, not just about her cunt. Well, who am I to judge?

Every time I go to Tunnel Bar there’s some asshole like that kind of dominating the front part of the bar, talking real intellectual but also as if they invented sexual desire, and you can tell from listening they don’t know jack shit about any of it. Chip calls them the Theoretical Queers.

This guy attracted me about as much as a plate of cold spaghetti but I could see he wasn’t the demanding type. Plus, this type of work, you learn to read people inside out in three minutes. Unless you’re on crack. Then it takes one minute, but you’re often wrong. He looked tame. Just a nice soft not too old geezer crumbling like camembert inside his windbreaker.

“A lot of people don’t know anything about the French Revolution.”
“How true, Roger.”
“Do you know who the Jacobins were?”
“Haven’t a clue,” the man says.

this is wild and exactly my taste