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Date Posted: 19:16:50 10/25/04 Mon
Author: jiffylube
Author Host/IP: 4.27.250.92
Subject: ava and the komodo dragon




When I first met you, you were at 256, Ava; another SoCal arrival clerking at a hollywood overcoat shop, with a hardcore night gig, freelancer aiming for a contract. Some wop, some cowboy retiree created your life, your small town USA, it could have been Pleasantville or Placerville or more likely straight from a Valley 'hood--van nuys, canoga park, some cheap ass bungalows where the southside runs the block, chronic-bred, with rock n roll roots, probably a few mullets in your past.

Maybe a high school boy, a contractor's boy with a vette or something humped you into stardom out in the san gabriels, or at a malibu coke spread....I can invent your reality, Ava, even a bad reality since you exist entirely as a construct, a fabricated pixel doll, spawned out of video and jpegs. Yes I covet your alabaster face, your collagen lips, yes, have thought about looking you up at various escort sites where the contract gals go after a few too many vegas par-tays....have seen some silicon-implanted co-stars of yours at such sites, ready to romp for $500.00 an hour, but you are no amber, no encino betty boop, no anonymous floozie in the back pages of the weekly who flunked stats. class and now sucks off middle-management at the Holiday Express right there off 405...Your nice natural breasts, your soft ass, yes I peer in fascination at the rose petals of your gorgeous labia with something approaching idolatry....

I ponder: how many others, how many objects have entered your maidenhead? Your career progressed did it not, from the usual hardcore, two gals and biker, ya know rock and roll meat and potatoes, to some interracial, to some les, to what? Oh it's just a movie Ma, Pa, no we aren't satanists, no so she's my friend and it's just a large piece of plastic hilted up this heart-shaped loveliness; Ma it's just some crip and my galpals, it's just heroin and a polysexual invocation of the Great God Pan, yeah, all are invited...but you went dyke, did you? was it a show or sort of nauseating at first, but when betrayed by all the real actors, by the mainstream creeps that could not see that you were an artist, not a porno star, you were a performer, a liberator....it's theater mom...and I am moving into hentai,like, manga, where the body is sort of based on me...I do voiceovers while she is fucked by various yakuza heroes....hentai heroes

Often you were fucked for days by some cowboy who was known to sort of heh heh "cross the fence"..the latest TT Boy who was known to be a bit lavender? Who cares, Ma ,its just a Carposi...come on down to the shoot Ma, there's TT, yeah he's gettin ready, the leading man, making jokes, getting hard...the camera guys are used to it and the director's got some old school flake...yeah...not crack, not crank, not fucking street shit, but peruvian flake, ya know sort of moldy, and pliable....yes.

What does it take to put you in the right mood? Sips of Mumms and a few whiffs...perhaps a dab or two on your "assets", yes Ava, I dream of gently smearing cocaine on your genitals, a summer night at the coast, entering the real you....

those are the visions that I bring to you, just like you bring dreams to me and how many other pathetic dolts hopping like deviants from site to site...looking for the elusive jpeg..the ultra-jpeg of degradation, of humilation, the Pamela Andersen and great dane clip....the Ellen Degeneres at the YWCA clip...The Annette Benning with the Lakers clip...the Beverly Hills High School Gym Orgy clip....The Chowchilla secret lesbian cluster fuck clip....Liz Taylor and stallion clip...exploding skulls and extermination squad, bleeding packets of crimson light into vortex of unrealized tesseracts, meshing with the virtual pulse.......


So you are True Color now, Ava Vincent, my Ava, writhing around with your slavic bitch on a chain, making her drink your piss from her dogchow bowl, yes you move quite nicely on the komodo dragon, the komodo dragon that is my temporary vista...I had a picture of you in a magazine--you know all the non-playboy fuck rags...the loser cunt mags...I had your picture and I went for a putt one friday afternoon. Flipping through the pictures of you, with your toy, your fingers, with the lips of some bad-toothed sepulveda slut wrapped around my cock, she wasn't you, but she had lips sort of like you, I jammed 8 inches of your vision into her whiskeyed mouth, erupted gobs of reasoned hate into her willing throat, jammed about eight inches of rage into her, to boot her out into the valley sun, out of my domain, with a two dollar tip for swallowing a section of my life, and returned home to study more encryption......

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