Once again I’ve put the hooker book aside. The one about the 25-year-old guy who works for a porn mag as managing editor and freelances for Larry Lynt at Rustler and what happens when he goes to the Sunlight Rabbit Ranch with photog K. Rern for a story on legal mother/daughter prostitutes and ends up falling in love and marrying the daughter. The story follows his 2002 move from Brooklyn to northern Nevada and the rapid degree to which, after a lovely Hawaiian honeymoon, his life falls apart, because of his mental illness which is exacerbated by the fact that his wife is humping strangers for rent money. It seems like an easy subject to tackle, but at times it hits too close to home, almost as though it really happened to me. (I’d never have survived such an ordeal.) Plus, after 14 years, I’ve written in excess of a million words and a thousand chapters and I need to break it up and find out what I really want to say about the experience, not what I think I should say or what people expect me to say or what I should’ve felt and the requisite scumbag I must be, or rather, HE must be, to have actually traded a perfectly sane life making good money in NYC publishing for a shit at what seemed to be love but was actually everything except love and how he fell apart like a garbage disposal snacking on balsa wood. Obviously, the book is now over 10 years late and I can’t even get my one-time agent to return an email any longer after ignoring hers for five or six years. Ironically, I’m still very close to the mother and daughter and consider them more of my family than my real family. I guess trying to make sense to all that mess, and how it affected my future and drew moths to me like, well, moths…curious women who wanted to know but resented you as soon as they got what they wanted…women who secretly wanted/want to be in the sex industry and were angry that I wanted nothing to do with it and wasn’t their ticket to stardom. (They know who they are, and last I heard, at least one of them is still contacting studios trying to write her own “story” about the industry. They openly shamed me for being part of the industry but they were the most dedicated to it after all. I couldn’t give a fuck about watching people fuck or writing about people fucking which made it very easy to do. Enough about Her.) “You mean, you were a drug addict, pornographer, low life scumbag yet it was never more than a job to you and you actually did everything you could to help people get out of the industry, even when threatened by guys who stood to lose millions because of it?”
Yes, I was/am/is an asshole. Or that guy I was writing about. He was the worst.
So what else to turn into a book? Well, we sponsored a child from Guatemala when I was maybe 7 or 8. It was a church thing, I think. The company, CCF, sent us the little girl’s picture and tried to get us to spend $60 to send her a teddy bear for Christmas. She (Amelia) was from city in Guatemala then more or less as now in the middle of a civil war (I was just there in June) called Solola, near Lake Atitlan (a mecca for wealthy gringos, tax dodgers, fugitives and Mexican fresas). There are/were only about 20,000 souls in the city itself surrounded by maybe 60,000 outside the city lines, living in the hills and farms nearby. There are actually four technical municipalities that make up the city, the people are mostly Kaqchikel, K’iche and Ladino, descendants of the Mayans. The people still mostly wear beautiful traditional Mayan clothing. (Talking to artisan friends of mine I’ve found out that some 500 hours go into making some of the dresses and skirts they wear.) So, I decided to sponsor as many children as I could from the same area. I write them all and told them about me and asked about them. My idea, at the time, was to acquire the loyalty of as many Guatemalans as possible. It was remarkably cheap to sponsor them but even cheaper when I took matters into my own hands and eliminated the charity, which paid itself and its workers first. In actuality, I found that only about $3 of the monthly $12 actually went to the families of the children, so I started acquiring addresses myself during a trip there I made between high school and college, to meet the kids who’d grown up that I sponsored and to find more families for whom $4 a month was like having a full time income. Soon, I had the loyalty of more than 1,200 Guatemalans of every age. They invited me to their homes to eat. They read English to me from the Bible (the only free thing the sponsor people ever really gave the, it turned out every dime had more strings connected to it than a time bomb. So, the people were very welcoming. My goal was to turn them into an army of citizen soldiers to take over the country and install a real democracy. It was the project that I presented during my college interview. I never would’ve gotten in otherwise, as I’d skipped over 120 days during high school. I didn’t even bother showing up one day my senior year. I was working at a law firm. I got paid shit but I made up for it by using their photocopiers late into the night. I started a T-shirt business to help fund my freedom fighters. But I’m not sure this is an interesting story either…
I know that a child wizard makes for an interesting story. Or teen vampires. Who wants to read about a Central American citizen army designed by a teenage highs chool dropout?