Synecdoche: syn⋅ec⋅do⋅che. Pronunciation [si-nek-duh-kee] –noun Rhetoric. A figure of speech in which a part is used for the whole (as hand for sailor), the whole for a part (as the law for police officer), the specific for the general (as cutthroat for assassin), the general for the specific (as thief for pickpocket), or the material for the thing made from it (as steel for sword).

I’ve said it once, and I’ll say it again: funny how time works. One day it’s the 14th of November, and then you wake up and it’s the 20th, and I think — where did all that time go?

One day I wake up and I’m 24…and the next day I wake up and I’m 44, and I think — where did all that time go?

I haven’t blogged since the 20th, when I found out Mitch Mitchell died, and here it is, almost a week later, and I’ve got nothing much to say.

And those days passed like moments…

Oh sure, I could write about kooky porn girls and the even kookier porn dudes. I could write about Manojobs and glory holes and dick suckers, but you’re already familiar with that territory.

Or, I could talk about the great film I saw, so here goes:

I shelled out 11 clams (well, $22, cause I paid for my pal’s ticket) to see Charlie Kaufman’s Synecdoche, New York. He’s the dude who wrote Being John Malkovich and Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind — both of which I liked.

Here’s the funny part — by the middle of it, I thought Synecdoche, New York was a dog turd, and I was about to totally start hating on it, and I looked over at my friend and gave her the “If This Doesn’t Get Any Better In About 3 Minutes I’m Asking For My Money Back” eye…and then, sure enough, BAM.

The first time ever for such a 180 degree turn right in the middle of a flick.

How about that?

I’m serious — I was about to get up and walk out, but I gave Charlie Kaufman a few more minutes, and I’m really glad I did, cause by the end of that movie I was totally blown away.

If you decide to take Kaufman’s challenge — cause this is a dense, complex, surreal film where plot and linear time movement aren’t tops on Kaufman’s list of rules to adhere to — you’ll be super happy you did.

Or, you won’t get it, and you’ll disregard any future film advice I have for you…and that’s that.

Oh, by the way, Phillip Seymour Hoffman plays a hypochondriac playwright who’s married to a woman who paints miniature portraits. He wins a MacArthur genius grant about the same time his wife becomes recognized by the art world. She leaves him and takes their child to Berlin, Germany, where she becomes internationally famous, and he takes his grant money and begins work on his masterpiece.

And that’s when all the fun begins.

Mitch Mitchell — the dude to Jimi’s right — has died. They’re saying it’s natural causes.

He was Jimi’s drummer, and the last surviving member of The Jimi Hendrix Experience.

He was 61.

(The dude to the left — Noel Redding — died about 5 years ago. He blew out his liver).

(You may have heard Hendrix suffocated on his own puke, but no one knows for sure; that was in 1970).

Mitchell was found about 3 a.m. Wednesday in his room at the Benson Hotel in downtown Portland.

Musicians and hotel rooms don’t mix very well.

He had just wrapped a leg of touring for “Experience Hendrix” tribute tour. I’ve never heard of “Experience Hendrix”, but I might have gone if I was aware of it. I guess he only played one song the night he died, and he looked pale and sick, and he needed help walking into the auditorium.

I went ahead and pulled out Electric Ladyland whilst banging out this entry, and by the time they were ripping thru “Crosstown Traffic”, I had my stereo playing much louder than my neighbors prefer, but fuck them.

They’re actually very nice Armenians, and I like them well enough.

One of the docs at the Multnomah County Medical Examiner’s Office thought Mitchell may have not sought medical help because “sometimes people don’t realize how sick they are.”

Funny — or not so funny — but doesn’t that make a whole bunch of sense?

Sometimes people just don’t realize how fucking sick they are.

Mark writes:

You posted today about that ridiculous craigslist add, which was no doubt laughable. But i can’t help but notice every time you discuss the issue of the “choice” pornstars make you seem to get a little irate. And while I liked your line: “But you know what? People make decisions all day long, and it’s our ability as adults to make decisions — good or bad — that make life worth living.”

I understand why you might get defensive, it’s how you make your bread. But 18? Business aside, why not move the age up to 21?
___________________________

Hey Mark. To get right to it — no.

No way an 18 year old should be allowed to appear in a dirty movie.

Shit — something like half of the 18 year olds these days can’t even graduate high school, let alone make an important decision about anything concerning their future.

But the law’s the law, and it says once you’re a legal adult, you can suck and fuck on camera.

Just take a look at barely-legal teen Nicole Ray. She turned 18 a few months before I shot her at The Dick Suckers. Will she regret that decision when she’s 30?

Probably.

There’s a plethora of other things 18 year olds shouldn’t legally be able to do — voting comes immediately to my mind.

When I was 18 all I cared about is the sport I was playing, when I was gonna get my next Manojob, and where the keg parties were Friday and Saturday night.

Oh yea, and my homework…but that was last on the list.

The operative phrase here is “is it legal?” — and yea, it sure is…even though we don’t agree with it. And bro — I’m close to 45 but when i look back at how stupid i was at 30, it’s borderline embarrassing.

In fact, when does it ever end? I’m sure when I’m 60 I’ll look back at all the stupid things I did when I was 45…which will probably include directing pornographic movies.

If I was King Of The World, public school teachers would be exempt from paying Federal and State income tax. Wilco would be our nation’s official rock and roll band. Then I’d make Veteran’s Day our nation’s official day to vote. Apple and Windows would create operating systems that would make it impossible to play bootleg files of any kind. I’d allow gays get married. Upon the birth of a second child to a family, either mom gets her tubes tied or dad gets his vas deferens soldered. I’d revoke the tax-exempt status for The Church of Latter Day Saints. I’d fuck with The Scientologists, too. I’d create a “Loser Leaves Town, No Holes Barred, non-referred Texas Style Cage Match” between an Israelite and a Palestinian, where each side would chose a representative to fight, and the losers would be forced by the rest of the world to really leave town and set up shop somewhere outside Barstow, California, cause, well…what’s the difference Barstow and Israel/Palestine, anyways? Big Oil would cough up their secrets on solar and wind power. I’d make the CIA tell everyone who really whacked JFK. Oh! And I’d make them fess up as to what really went down in Roswell, NM, too. Wal Mart would pay reparations to every Mom and Pop Shop they put out of business. The Vatican would give full access to all the holdings in their library. I’d ask Michel Gondry to be Queen of The World.

And finally — I’d raise the age requirements on performing in adult movies to 21.

Reply to: pers-910702354@craigslist.org
Date: 2008-11-08, 8:02AM PST

God Bless.
____________________________________________________________

This Craig’s List post is real, and it rules on so many levels I need to blog it.

My pal Face Blaster FWD’d it to me a few hours ago.

It’s listed in the hooker ads on Craig’s List (the “Erotic” section) which means about the only dudes that are going to read it are aching for a blowjob, and they’re Johns, and whoever posted this had no problem asking horny whore mongers to help straighten out poor Emily.

Fun!

I shot Emily a while back, and she was cool. A little off, but who isn’t these days? She was also very much into hooking, which isn’t for every porn whore, but enough of them do it so it’s not much of a surprise.

At least not to me.

Porn doesn’t ruin lives — people do. As in Emily ruined Emily’s life. Now, don’t get me wrong — porn isn’t the best career opportunity for a woman. Not by a long shot. For some it’s rewarding and lucrative, but for many it’s detrimental on all sorts of levels.

But you know what? People make decisions all day long, and it’s our ability as adults to make decisions — good or bad — that make life worth living.

The End.

Every single decision we make has its own consequences. When Emily walked into my studio, she was treated with respect, had a good time at work, and walked out a few hours later with more money than most people make in a week. She seemed secure and confident with her sexuality, and she thanked me on her way out — and asked for another job.

Which I gave her.

Whoever posted this silly ad needs to realize it was Emily’s choice with the people she surrounded herself with that “deceived and robbed her of her purpose in life”.

And guess what? The only person that can ever help Emily is Emily.

The person who posted this ad can’t help Emily.

The potential new boyfriend can’t help her.

The yummy commisary snacks can temporarily help Emily, so, by all means — buy the autographed pic.

Why is it so hard for people to just step up to the plate and blame their own, shitty decisions on their own, shitty life?

Or, why is it so easy to blame everyone else?

In the future, instead of blaming porn, let’s blame Yoko.

Blame it on Yoko.

Whatever the fuck you just did to wind up in jail, or in a huge amount of debt, or on drugs, or in the wrong crowd, or whatever it is that’s causing your life to suck right now — Blame it on Yoko.

After all, she broke up the greatest rock ‘n roll band in the history of the world, right? I think this entitles her to taking on whatever shitty shit we can toss her way.

No, wait.

Let’s Blame it on Barak.

Why not? He can be our new whipping boy! And he’s black, too.

Well, half black.

Or half white, depending on what kind of jam you got yourself into.

Blame Yoko!

Blame Barak!

Just don’t blame porn.

Forty years ago this month, Van Morrison released his very first (depending on who you ask) solo record, Astral Weeks. He had just quit as the singer of Them, which you might (or might not) know, but I’m sure you know about their hit “Gloria”, as in G-L-O-R-I-A Gloria; I’m sure you don’t know The Doors opened for Them during the band’s 1967, three week stint at The Whiskey A Go-Go, and, in one of Them’s final shows, Jim Morrison jumped up on stage with Van Morrison to belt out “Gloria” for one of their final encores — ever.

Imagine that — the two Morrison’s screaming “G-L-O-R-I-A!” before almost anyone knew who Jim Morrison — or The Doors — were.

It doesn’t get any better than Astral Weeks. Really, it doesn’t. Just about every music rag places Astral Weeks in its Best Of Lists; Lester Bangs called it “the rock record with the most significance in my life so far” (he died a few years later); I scored it an 8 on the Billy Watson I Shoot Porn Top 10 albums ever made list.

It’s not only Van’s masterpiece, but a masterpiece of modern music, and, like all masterpieces, no one really paid attention to it when it was released, and the record company didn’t really promote it, and for years no one really cared about it.

So when I saw Van was coming to the fabulous Hollywood Bowl last weekend to play Astral Weeks in its entirety, I was all over it. I even forked over 350 Clams to sit as close as I could to Van and his mini-orchestra…as well as two of the last surviving musicians who played on the record.

350 Doll Hairs is a whole lotta bread to fork over just to see a show, but lemme take a sec and defend my decision:

1) It’s Astral Weeks, god damnit. From beginning to end. Catching a Van Morrison show really isn’t a big deal — cause he still tours somewhat frequently — but catching him playing anything off that record is, cause, well…he just won’t play tracks off Astral Weeks. (He also doesn’t do “Brown-Eyed Girl” or “Gloria”).

2) It’s The Hollywood Bowl, god damnit. What a great place to hear a show. Plus, ever since I was a kid and shelled out 6 bucks for a copy of The Beatles at The Hollywood Bowl, I’ve had a weird affinity for that place.

3) I’m flying solo. No date. As in Mr. Lonely Guy. I’ve never been to a show by myself — ever. Why not start now? Plus, if I bought a date, we’d be talking 700 sheckles, which is steep. But solo? I’m there!

4) Then, the day of the show, I read he’s doing two sets, cause they’re gonna make a DVD / CD of the whole shin-dig, and the first set will be a greatest hits thingy — with “Brown-Eyed Girl” and “Gloria” in it — and the second set’s Astral Weeks, and once he does this show, that’s it. As in Van’s done. He’ll tour again, but there will be no Astral Weeks tour.

So I went to the show.

And it ruled.

I sat near the fat dude from Superbad; actually, I sat in front of him.

After Van walked off stage and the house lights went up, I headed home, but before I got there I ordered a plate of Chicken Nachos and a Diet Coke from my favorite taco stand in LA.

I made it back just in time to watch Bill Maher and n’joy mis nachos.

Then, as usual, I took my medicine and fell into a deep sleep.

I flew home to do my part in making sure Barak Obama becomes our next Fearless Leader, and sometime that afternoon I got a call from The Minion — my PA — and he’s telling me he’s got a “surprise” for me waiting in my e-mail box. Well, not only was it this interview, but it appears The Minion has come out-of-pocket and shot a scene for the world’s greatest handjob site — Manojob.com!

Now if I can just get him to stop negotiating for hundred dollar blow jobs.

———————————-

The Minion: Why isn’t Billy Watson interviewing you today?

Alice Bell: Um, he’s out of town right now, so it’s a surprise shoot for him.

TM: When did we set up your Manojob shoot?

AB: Two hours ago, he he.

TM: What did we talk about on the ride here?

AB: We spoke about how the shot is going to go. That this is a surprise shoot and what the pay would be. We also listened to the Howard Stern show.

TM: Do you remember what was on Stern?

AB: This hot girl was on the phone from Buffalo, and she went down on one of her hot female friends.

TM: Did that get you excited?

AB: To be honest, a little. But to be honest I get excited over little things.

TM: Did you get wet?

AB: I’m always wet so it doesn’t take much for me to get wet.

TM: How’d you get into porn?

AB: Through myspace. My agent sent me a message through it in March of this year. It’s been in the back of my mind. I came out here in October and did it. I needed the money.

TM: What did you do before porn?

AB: I was a leasing agent in Texas.

TM: What’s that?

AB: I leased out apartments. It was pretty hectic.

TM: What’s the craziest shit you do?

AB: I really haven’t done anything crazy. Before I got out here I slept with only 4 people. I’ve already done gangbangs, interracial, 3somes, and even made out privately with some girls.

TM: So porn has made you a cock hound?

AB: Yeah, hahaha!

TM: How did you get your name?

AB: One of my favorite movies is Alice in Wonderland. My favorite name is Alice and Bell was a last name that wasn’t taken.

TM: Are you voting tomorrow?

AB: No.

TM: Why not?

AB: I don’t have my voter’s registration card with me.

TM: Do you blow random dudes?

AB: Yeah, why not?

TM: Why do you do that?

AB: I’m young. I probably won’t have a chance to do this in 5 -10 years.

TM: Answer honestly, would u blow me off camera?

AB: I see this is strictly business.

TM: But you said you blow random guys!

AB: Random guys for money. That’s what’s porn’s all about right?

TM: How about $100?

AB: Done!

TM: I win!!

I just had a typical Porno day.

It started with the star of my first scene — Nina Hartley — phoning me fifteen minutes before her call time. “I woke up this morning with a UTI, and I want to make sure I can give you a good scene. I can’t really take big black cock with a UTI, so I have to do something I haven’t done in 20 years and cancel the day of the shoot.”

I understood, and we re-booked the scene.

Then, the star of my second scene — Riley Rey — sent me a text message: Billy I’m fucking having the worst fucking day and a semi just rear ended the back of my car

This means she might have had a semi rear end her car, but, probably, she’s hung over, or fighting with her boyfriend, or both, and she certainly doesn’t feel like working.

UTI’s and semis. Boyfriends and bad days. Phone calls versus text messages. Does a porn whore with a 20 year history in this business have any more creditability than a barely-legal porn whore who’s been in the biz less than 6 months?

Suddenly, my day was wide open.

So, instead of making a couple of pornos, I watched a movie about two friends who make one.

Best friends Zack and Miri are in so much debt their utilities are shut off and they’re forced to burn trash in a steel drum in their front room in order too keep warm on a cold, winter day.

Why not make a dirty movie?

There’s lots of money in those!

Uh huh.

Zack & Miri make a porno was just OK. Hold off til it hits cable.

It’s a Kevin Smith film, and I’ve always thought his dialogue is more heavy-handed and forced than witty and realistic — even in his best films like Chasing Amy and Clerks.

Which is to say I enjoyed the real butter the Vista Theater coats their popcorn with more than Zack & Miri.

Wanna hear something cool? The Vista Theater is a single-screen indie movie house I can walk to from my crib that’s been totally renovated to its glory days from the 20’s; but, in the 70’s, it was a super sleazy porno theater; and, the decade before, Ed Wood Jr. had his office right above it.

Anyways, Kevin Smith cast real porn whores Traci Lords and Katie Morgan in his movie.

Traci Lords isn’t aging very well, but that’s no surprise.

Katie Morgan plays the not-as-dumb-as-most-of-them-are-but-close-enough-to-make-you-love-her blonde as well as she did to make the HBO execs fall for her a few years ago, but I’ll take the hardcore, Blacks on Blondes Katie Morgan over the cleaned-up, mainstream, HBO Katie Morgan any day.

Now, if I could only talk her into taking a trip to a gloryhole.

I Shoot Porn: Happy Halloween! What are you gonna be tonight?

Emy Reyes: Little Bo Peep. Something like that.

ISP: Did you lose your sheep?

ER: Uh huh!

ISP: Why did you come to America?

ER: I was 13 when I left Honduras to come to the US — for a better future. I went to high school here, graduated, got a real job as an insurance agent, but one day one of my friends introduced me to the adult industry.

ISP: So, a better future included a career in porn?

ER: No. (Laughs). It just happened. A friend named Sasha did two scenes. I went with her for one of those scenes. She encouraged me to try it, and a week later, I did.

ISP: What was your first scene?

ER: Pictures only. For Naughty Neighbors. It’s a magazine. I got the cover!

ISP: What was your first full-blown sex scene?

ER: Red Light District. Just Over 18. I got the box cover for that!

ISP: What was going through your head walking on a porno set for the first time?

ER: I was excited and curious. I was happy to be there! I love sex, and I always have. It was a turn on to see other people fuck, and for me to fuck a stranger. It was so hot. I got to fuck Alex Gonz. He’s good! He was very respectful to me.

ISP: How many scenes have you shot?

ER: 25 — maybe less.

ISP: What’s the craziest thing you’ve done on camera?

ER: One of my fantasies just came true. I got to fuck 5 girls at once! All hot girls, too!

ISP: What’s the craziest thing you’ve done off camera?

ER: I’ve fucked in a movie theater. Like, a real movie theater. I like to fuck everywhere! Even in a cop car.

ISP: Wait a sec…first, the theater. Then we’ll move on to The Piggy. Was it a packed house?

ER: kinda full, yea. A lady got up and said “get a room!” and she left the theater.

ISP: What movie was it?

ER: It was one of those movies that makes fun of scary movies, or superhero movies. I forget. I think it was called “Superhero Movie”.

ISP: Did they send an usher in to break up the filthy behavior?

ER: Yea, a guy with a flashlight came in, but we were already done. The guy I fucked was really fast.

ISP: Where did he blow?

ER: He shot all over my ass and back. I was sitting on him and he pulled out and it went everywhere.

ISP: Nice. I’m sure the people seated near by were appreciative.

ER: The lady left. The other wild one was in a cop car. I got pulled over for a DUI. I was a little tipsy. It was a Friday, and a cop pulled me over and I was wearing a really slutty dress. He made me get out of the vehicle, and it was kinda awkward at first. He gave me a sobriety test, and I passed it. So he had me blow into the machine, and I didn’t pass that. He said he was going to arrest me, and he put the plastic cuffs on him. Cops turn me on! I’ve dated like 4 of them. So I flirted with him. I asked him how old he was and all that, cause I was drunk, and I dunno…I asked him if I kissed him would he let me go? And after that, it just happened. It was really hot and really quick. The back seat was so dirty! It kinda stunk. Anyways, he was quick, and after it happened he gave me his number, and now we’re fuck buddies. And he saves me from my tickets.

ISP: I think you’re telling a lie.

ER: No way! Cops are crooked. Especially the ones in Miami. Cops make passes at me all the time. And I like to say things like “oh officer! I’ve been a bad girl! Arrest me!”

ISP: What kind of insurance did you sell?

ER: Commercial auto, personal auto, workman’s comp, a bunch of things.

ISP: What do you want to do after porn?

ER: I want to have my own insurance business. I’m in the process of doing it. I’m getting my California insurance license.

ISP: You’re the girl that’s wholesome on the outside and naughty on the inside, huh?

ER: How do you know?

ISP: I’m a genius. Now, what can’t I book you for?

ER: I don’t do anal or interracial. No bondage, either. It’s too creepy for me.

ISP: Do you watch your own scenes?

ER: I don’t have time. I prefer to make it happen. I like the action!

ISP: You got a site?

ER: Uh huh! It’s the Emy Reyes fan site! You can see me for free!

ISP: Can I have a little action?

ER: How much you gonna pay me? Ain’t nothing free!

ISP: I’ll pay you with kindness.

ER: You don’t even have lunch here for me! I’m starving!

ISP: I can feed you some jizz.

ER: Jizz? What’s that? I want chicken and rice, some frijoles, a pupusa and some plantains.

ISP: You don’t know what jizz is? It’s cum. I want to feed you my cum.

ER: I assumed that. You’re nasty!

ISP: Not all the time, my love. Not all the time.