https://tim-barrus.format.com/
Sex, Pornography, Resistance
by Tim Barrus
I have lived through all of this before.
The day I turned 16, I finally had my license, I could now drive young men (16, they lie a lot, and we wanted them to). Over the Blue Water Bridge to Canada. They rode in the front seat, sweating. Sometimes they cried. That sense of leaving everything behind. It was a diaspora, then. It is a diaspora now. Get a clue. We had the War in Vietnam so we could end up with a murderous King in all my books. It’s a fantasy, right. Right and ready. The poor are usually the cannon fodder.
It’s called sub-atomic cannon fodder. Without cannon fodder, all would be lost. Military Academy Historical Terminology. Not mine. I may not be all that gay, not fiction gay, but real gay. Not infamous gay. Maybe a little infamous (opinionated) gay. Why is that important. These literal yardsticks are the real pornography. To gay men. I have no idea why. I smile and nod a lot. Nevertheless, I know and love gay men. I’m allowed. Is there an entrance exam. They can demean me, and they have, I get regularly trounced for Drummer Photography. Like I had anything to do with Drummer. I love all gay people. I am so sorry you have to keep fighting this fight. Why are you here. On this planet. The time has come again. We need you. Again and again.
I did another deep dive into how it all went down. It’s very busy down there and it’s more than a little distraught. Do you really think the Deviant isn’t coming for you. The deviant has been salivating to kill all of you, every last one, but there is a financial caste system in your hierarchies, they do not empower you, they make it hard for you to leave the bubble. Every uprising has one. A bubble with your name on it. you know the scored, the more you got the more you need. It’s not just a financial one. Money is power.
So is civil disobedience. On steroids.
Only peaceful hard as hell resistance.
Choose sides. It’s time. You know it’s time again. It has arrived. You are not alone. It’s not hard to know where to begin. The guru’s participation in the Battle of Potidaea during the Peloponnesian War is notably recorded by Plato. But it was Socrates who demonstrated extraordinary resilience during this campaign, enduring harsh conditions and remaining steadfast under siege. His composure under adversity was as much a reflection of his philosophical endurance as his physical fortitude. It was during this campaign that he saved the life of Alcibiades.
Power is blood.
Power brokers know that. Sometimes you have to tie them up and gag them.
Sounds like a porn film pitch. Let’s make some. Sounds like literary pornography.
Turn sex itself — simply to defy authority — a political act. Fuck wherever you want. Flaunt his laws, I didn’t write that. The computer did it. I said where. Not. Whoever. Or win. I never said marches as a tidal wave on Christmas day, take the kids. No fans. Give me a beak, fans. You look light weight, ladies. I know you are not like that. Sitting there with Mrs Beezley and her hot hand and Mint Julep. Be kind. Start fucking everyone (who consents) you say: Wanna Fuck. He will say yes. No one cares. The National Guard would attack. I have seen them pull people from cars and beat the shit out of them. I pray for a peace. You boys, come over here, and sit by me. Fuck at every opportunity, and then film it, and then, write it up, every lick. Give them a headache. Send it everyone. Flood the government with fucking. Fucking projected on the walls. They will beat your artist head in with a leaden club. One hit will kill you.
They wear facial recognition. They know who you are, then and there even as they castrate your brain while you beg for more. De Sade was not state sanctioned. He had his own way with a thousand of their wives. Heads flew off the shelves, and then the plague Number Ten arrived. Satire is protected speech — everyone, go haha — like are you kidding me.
Reminder: Satire or are you illiterate. The best artists go straight to porn but the straight part is momentary.
Smile and nod. Smile and nod. Step out of the Hollywood’s Timid Bubble or Mothers In Arms will smote you down smote you down, you all, they got dogs this time, too. Run for your lives. They will set the fire. Dreagos! It’s a comedy. I wrote a comedy where lawyers send their money - all of it, queen — all of it. To the hurly burly of the massive so massive that you can me see fucking from outer space. Down the drain in Spain.
The Normals will go on the fucking guillotine war path. Bring on the wrath of Beelzeebub. Caste and class. Always and forever. They all have assistants and they are whipmasters of Beverly Hills. You bet, the maid left her apron.
The Resistance will be challenged by the word we must but fuck that, it’s money. The NYPL has a suck system is this plastic thing for a sperm sample to be whisked and schwooped to the bowels of the basement where you are fully aware of having been trashed for illegal fantasies by the BAR but why are you in the basement and I want my book. So Witomski.
It’s time to hit the streets and you gotta leave the office, oh, yes, you do. Get on that sidewalk like they do in all my books where I don’t tell anyone what do do. TR is dead.
“All books have been banned today. Stop it! I just work here why is everyone fucking for fuck sake.” I have been declared a the jerk off King of Duke. A wanted college boy fugitive who came just one too many times a day.”
The Resistance has to say to itself — here and now — that military rank has no street creds.
That it has to choose who side they will be on. The Constitution they swore to uphold may be an antique but, but, asshole, it’s doable. The killing begins, in my novel anyway, novels being fiction, not unlike science fiction that take up a lot of room.
Write pornography because they have full-fledged-hedged eyes popping out of their heads — but your children are looking with some awe before you grabbed them by wedgie and took them home. Your real home is with us, and make no mistake, this time they aim to kill us. In my books, my characters, articulate that over and over. They say: Make No Mistakes. Make No Mistakes. This is only a book. This is just fiction. Just fiction, folks. Nothing to see here. You all, just go home, Cher.
I can never figure out how my fictional characters who resemble no one, the living or the dead, especially the dead somehow, they are dramatic icons on stakes.
Internet.
Write pornography. Fuck your brains out. Save your condoms so other men can use them. Someone in the next stall starts lecturing Doctor Lector: How Big Is Your Dick.
Write pornography. Learn to make sex love — but try just loving sex. It can expand what you know. No one can buy that.
Become invaluable to The Resistance. If you can’t find it, grow some fucking balls and build your own from the ground and what you do with that statue what statue, oh, woe is me. My bad. I said balls. Some child in the Bay Area Reporter Reported that I must be prohibited in the Virgin Mary Town Square and boiled in oil but my dick didn’t fit so they cut it off.
Now, there’s a real stinger of a film. It’s the film community that’s a lot of shit. You can’t do John Waters. You have to go full-blown Liz Tayor eats Marilynn Monroe and gives me all the rights.
What the Deviant wants (in my book) is theatre. Good friend, your travels will find your purest wife and the owner of the Village Inn, a venue for Play of Plays, we perform sex on a trapeze and anyone can ride it, if you please.
Will someone please explain art to these ill-informed proletariats. I am a communist. Kiss my royal ass. All communists write fiction and nothing but fiction. Never trust a communist. We have measles feezles sneezes. No time like a pandemic originated from the malls of Florida. You will wish you had been nice to us in this fantasy that will never get air time in California. Out on my ear again. I kid Bill Mahr.
The Deviant will arrive with a fire house mushroom head. Remind them that they serve us. Cut. Print. I am allowed, let me repeat it because you’ll be arrested but what a gig, eh. It was the wigs. Those wigs pissed off King George, too. I can’t remember, Cher, who wore what wigs. And that was a fatty suit. You know, the billionaire crook with the ridiculous crown clown. You go home, get dinner ready, sit down with the family after a gay prayerhoover. Invite Jane. I will bet the ranch she’ll show up. He only knows massive. It has to be massive. You gotta use all the symbols, that’s exactly how I write novels, like Genocide. A virus sends another virus into a timeline. Pick one. That one. Do it now. You have to jerk off in a test tube. Just do it. When you’re deceased you will be glad you did. Is the prayerhoover over. No. Break it up.
I see a film. De Sade scares them. People might run around the streets of London and have sex (I said loving sex, so vanilla) there will be no vanilla and there will only be art in a movie about a movie about having sex everywhere in the universe. I don’t know who I am. The Queen of Zsa Zsa Venus. Bealah, peel me a bitch. Who are you looking at, little man. I signed a nda on myself so if I break just hang me and that can be the end of the film. Go home.
The Normals are going to lose this one because this resistance is a cosmic snake because it has to be. Hey, we are the writers a dead writer is one less writer to worry about, did we owe him money. They can kill us but they cannot win. They cannot stop us from telling stupid ass joke which we would never do. Beaula, peel me me a flag. Few antiques will be worth keeping. I said this in my book, The Boy and the Dog Are Sleeping.