Scrambled Porn

I am obsessed with love. I’m interested in how people fall in love, what sustains love, why things are magnified with love and loneliness. I have a hard time falling in love. All the stupids tell me how great I am, how soft my skin be, how “not pepperoni” my tits are, how in love they are. Completely drunk, yet intensely serious.

Scrambled porn is great. You can hear these noises and imagine it to be authentic. Who knows what it is. It’s bleary blues, purples, flashes of red and green. Sometimes you see a grey hand grabbing girl flesh. There are no commercials.

The first time I ever took my clothes off, I took my best friend with me. She drove to a very wretched strip joint in a nuclear town. “They don’t ask for a licence.” Perfect. I had a borrowed bikini top and my own thong. I really wanted to wear my big panties. My girlfriend took a seat on the floor. We were the only non-white people there. I went to change in the washroom and emerged totally grossed out. I paid the DJ and thanked him for sparing me a stage show. I sat with my friend on my newly re-christened “pussy towel”, formerly “face towel”. We looked around. We looked at each other. I was sitting in front of her in my skivvies, preparing to talk to and fake-fuck the room at large. She reassured me. I was going to charge double what the other girls did because I’m fucking Asian. I talked to a group of men. They were young men attending a crap college. I danced for one at the table; he was completely forgettable. I danced for an old guy who looked like an old fashioned sheriff in polar fleece. I danced for a dad. I danced for your teacher. My dancing consisted of sitting on one knee while kicking out my legs and grabbing my feet. Then I would stand and wriggle a bit. There’s not a lot of flesh to me, and definitely not wobbly bits. I can’t remember what I talked about. I think I lied a lot. After two hours, I grabbed my girlfriend, my money and split for civilization.

I kept my clothes on for a decade. I returned, less scared, more neurotic. My life looks like scrambled porn and fake-love.

I’m baking a cake in my stripper oven. Whatever the fuck that means.

Fyre Crotch