The New Museum and SPANK present DENNIS AND THE BOYS
Dennis Cooper, in collaboration with the New Museum and SPANK Magazine, has selected three young queer zine writers (Mark Edmund Doten, Robert Smith, and Max Steele) to join him Thursday October 14th for an evening of performative readings and provocations
Max Steele is a performer and writer. He has presented work at the New Museum, Rapture Café, Deitch Projects, Envoy Enterprises, PPOW Gallery, and the Queens Museum of Art. He writes the psychedelic porno poetry zine Scorcher, is a contributor to East Village Boys and Birdsong, plays Becky on the Logo sitcom “Jeffery and Cole Casserole”, and is a go-go boy at NYC’s queer punk party QxBxRx.
Chatroom puts the computer between us and complains about the distance as he fingers the keyboard. He comes to see me go-go dance at the punk show and is too shy to say much. Chatroom only wants to talk to me online. He sends me dirty emails he thinks he’s being real tough.
He watches me dance and then writes about it for some blog or something. He reviews me like for a fanzine. You can have Billy, too, if you send $3 and an envelope and some stamps to this po box. Or you know, we could trade.
(How we get things, always).
Sends me dirty descriptions of myself. Chatroom thinks that I must be vain he thinks that I like to hear him describe me to myself.
Easier than that, I don’t need to hear anyone talk about me it’s like the weather I don’t believe in it. I just like picturing Chatroom writing out these dirty teenager fantasies with his angry hard-on. Getting off gets me off. I’m a modern girl, fucking on the internet just confirms our own circuitry.
Chatroom describes what he’s going to do to me. In his imagination he’s going to make me moan and scream and will bury my head in the pillow, dominate me make me weep or something. I invite him over for a date.
He’s shy, he shows up early to our date with bottles of wine and clove cigarettes and it’s raining but he’s wearing a big leather jacket.
He wants to talk to me about punk records and goth records and books that mean girls read on the bus. He is very cool and he wants me to know it. I make him drink the bottles of wine and smoke the clove cigarettes in my kitchen standing up, while we talk about the apocalypse with my room mate P the Witch. P rolls his own cigarettes and we talk about killing the world.
Chatroom is nervous I know he wants to kiss me but is too shy. He would write out pages of nasty things to do to me but now he’s sipping wine and listening and not looking me in the eye when he describes his pets twin guinea pigs.
P and I make Chatroom smoke a joint with us mostly so I won’t be so nervous. Romance freaks me out. Getting off gets me off and nervousness makes me nervous. The secret of me is that I do whatever it is you’re doing, too. The word for this is seduction.
Chatroom says “You act tough but I have to keep reminding myself that you’re just as scared as I am”.
But I’m not scared. That’s the point. Nothing scares me especially Chatroom and his big punk rock dick.
I’m jerking him off and he’s whining. He wants me to get up and change the record to the other side. His dick is dripping precum, it’s like he’s drooling. Thinking a lot about appetites. Chatroom kisses the small of my back. The paramour.
Putting on romance, pulling it out the zipper of his bondage pants untucking it from the spiked leather jacket boots getting bigger and blacker by the second. He wants to be exactly like a fantasy make me prove that his imagination is real his hunch was right or something I know that every sexy dream and porno movie is a fiction and underneath it we’re naked already.