Interview with a Dirty Writer
Q. What’s your earliest dirty experience?
A. I saw a friend’s mother taking a bath when I was six.
Q. So what exactly did you see?
A. A nice pair of boobs and lots of soap.
Q. Let’s move on. Earliest dirty movie?
A. That’s an easy one, “And God Created Woman,” with Bridget Bardot. It was all white bed sheets, golden skin, blushing, breathlessness and Bardot’s pouty face and body.
Q. Any other dirty early movies?
A. I, a Woman, I Am Curious Yellow, Swedish Mistress, as I remember.
Q. What kind of films were they?
A. All Swedish and dirty. One sexual adventure into the next. One had a scene where a young hot blonde girl masturbates in her bedroom near an open window, while the guy who’s interested in her sits outside on his motorcycle revving the engine under her window.
Q. What did this mean to you?
A. The decadence of western bourgeois society within a post-modern paradigm.
Q. Honestly, can you put it in simpler terms?
A. A lot of mindless heat.
Q. Is there anything in fashion, art, or politics that captures the current zeitgeist?
A. Aside from pornography? Yoga pants for women. If men could be criminally charged for ogling women wearing this item of clothing, you wouldn’t be able to stuff the jails fast enough.
A. Please. Thong bathing suits make a statement, where YP (yoga pants) issue a suggestion. The latter’s so much sexier by leaving something more to the imagination. While dining with my family once in mid-town Manhattan, a stark naked woman marched past our window, heading uptown all business, no one appeared to notice her. It was a good five minutes before I saw a police car heading uptown, presumably after her. If she had instead worn yoga pants and had the body for it, she would have turned heads fast enough to give a community of chiropractors a field day. Okay, bad example.
Q. What about what stimulates gay men?
A. If I gave you an answer I’d only be pretending that I wasn’t guessing.
Q. Is there a drink you associate with sexual stimulation or stamina?
A. Tit milk mixed with vodka, and a stemless maraschino cherry. A real zinger.
Q. Any other stimulants?
A. Yes. There are particular perfumes, odors really, women in certain neighborhoods of Rio De Janeiro, Buenos Aires, and Montevideo apply to themselves that supposedly drive men absolutely insane. I can’t vouch for it except to say no one I’ve met has ever returned alive and sane to credibly tell about it.
Q. What else can get men excited?
A. Contrary to the rhyme about men not making passes at women who wear glasses, if the woman otherwise has an ounce of attractiveness, men will be turned by this apparel into little schoolboys aching to be spanked. It makes sex dirtier by triumphing over stodgy rectitude. Instead of glasses, it can be nylon stockings with a black seam (actual or drawn) up the back, or just the right shade of lipstick applied a bit too generously. That’s it, not much. Men need just a slim streak of smoke issuing from a furrow of propriety to set them on edge.
Q. Is that it?
A. A starchy white nurse’s uniform. Men will always wonder if there’s a rhumba going on underneath. Also a good show of legs always has men, especially mathematicians, wondering where parallel lines meet somewhere in space and what that’s like.
Q. Any books that you thought were over-the-top erotic?
A. Marquis DeSade’s “Bedroom Philosophers” appealed to the animal in me. And there’s D.H. Lawrence’s Lady Chatterley’s Lover, which took me out to the spiritual horizon in sexual relations.
Q. What about something short and sweet?
A. There was a commercial jingle in my early college days about paper panties. It went something like this, “Put ‘em on, tear ‘em off, throw ‘em away. Paper Panties!” I couldn’t get it out of my head, and kept wondering if I could ever witness this and at least collect all these torn, discarded panties.
Q. What’s this obsession with women’s panties?
A. I think if they wore boxer shorts it would disappear in a day.
Q. What about periodicals like National Geographic with native women from undeveloped lands? Did you ever thumb through it as a teenager?
A. Purely for anthropological edification.
Q. What about pin-ups?
A. My parents kept finding these magazines almost as quickly as I could hide them. I told them it was to read many of the articles they might contain, again for sociological research. I did find a way to hide at least one pinup from them in a newspaper under the fold of a book jacket. The pin-up was of a comedian’s wife appearing in a gossip column in the New York Post.
Q. That’s hard to believe. Do you even remember the book?
A. George Lefebvre’s “The Coming of the French Revolution.”
Q. Don’t you think everything you’ve told us is really inexcusable objectification of females on your part?
A. Objectification maybe so. Inexcusable? I don’t think so. I wasn’t taught to objectify females by any older role models. The cowboy heroes I watched on television when I was growing up were actually a very clean lot and would only kiss, if that, behind a large hat. The heroes of today’s movies lose no time making out even on prime time TV with lots of heavy breathing and few if any clothes on top of or under the sheets. In sum this is all natural like the tides, they come in and then go out, over and over.
Q. So, how do you define a perversion?
A. Oh, that’s a political question.