Of course the key term here that needs to be defined is “recently”. If we were referring to an actual person, there’s been reports of people being “dead” longer than an hour…and then being revived by paramedics. As far as blogs go, this one took its last real breath of life on 12 Feb 2014, when I told the story of how I learned to beat my meat. That’s closing in on two years ago, and I’ve had some things happen to me since then.
According to Greg Miller, if a good samaritan stumbled upon your lifeless body in the 18th century, you might have been set upon a trotting horse, or submerged in some freezing water, or even had some smoke blown right up your ass.
Perhaps this is where that idiom came from? “I ain’t blowing smoke up your ass, but I miss your blog, Billy.” This is something I’ve heard from time to time, but it’s really only part the reason I’ve decided to attempt to revive I Shoot Porn. The truth is, I need the traffic; because, after all, I’m really nothing more than a smut peddler. And the hope is the people who wind up here to read about my life in Porn Valley might actually follow the links out to one of my sites: Legit Clips or ManoJob or Mister POV or The Dick Suckers.
But like I said, that’s part of the reason. People, by nature, love attention, so when someone says something nice about this blog or when someone leaves a comment that they hate the blog and want to slit my throat or they like the way I write or someone calls me a cuckold faggot…well, that’s why I do this, too. Attention is a powerful drug, and it’s the root of everything we do, whether it’s starring in a porn flick or shooting up a school or starting a punk rock band.
I’m just wondering how long I’m going to be able to keep it up. Maybe Big Pharma can make a little blue pill to help me with this, too.
The town will never be the same. After the Tangiers, the big corporations took it all over. Today, it looks like Disneyland. And while the kids play cardboard pirates, Mommy and Daddy drop the house payments and Junior’s college money on the poker slots. In the old days, dealers knew your name, what you drank, what you played. Today, it’s like checkin’ into an airport. And if you order room service, you’re lucky if you get it by Thursday. Today, it’s all gone. You get a whale show up with four million in a suitcase, and some twenty-five-year-old hotel school kid is gonna want his Social Security Number. After the Teamsters got knocked out of the box, the corporations tore down practically every one of the old casinos…
Remember the closing moments from Casino, the Scorsese/DeNiro/Pesci film? Those lines are DeNiro’s, and he’s lamenting about what he feels is the decline of his industry. If you didn’t see Casino, it’s basically the history of Vegas from the mid-70’s to current day, and, for the most part, the film gets it right.
By “it”, I mean the Corporatization of Vice.
The LA County Department of Health is housed in a dilapidated building right off the I-5. Inside their conference room, bright yellow signs with black, bold lettering say things like CAUTION: TURTLES MAY TRANSMIT BACTERIA CAUSING DISEASE IN HUMANS and WARNING: MUSSELS FROM THESE WATERS ARE UNFIT FOR HUMAN CONSUMPTION. There’s a framed pamphlet hanging on the wall titled Rabies and its Control. It’s like museum of health-related warning signs from the days of yesteryear…except those signs are all currently in use. Just go to one of LA’s beaches and you’ll see one.
My favorite is the one (I assume) used for LA County bathhouses: AIDS PREVENTION NOTICE — The LA County of Health has determined that high risk sexually activity can lead to AIDS. High risk sexual activity means the placing of the penis of one male into the anus or mouth of another male, whether or not a condom is used OR the placing of the mouth of one male on the anus of another male.
The Public Health Investigative Manager (herein referred to from now on as “Phim”) apologizes to me and my lawyer for her tardiness, “but we’re in the middle of an emergency.”
I say, “I’m kinda curious…in 2013 what constitutes a public health emergency?” Cause to me, public health crises either happen in 3rd World kinda places…or happened in Olde Tyme Days.
Phim didn’t really specify, other than there was an issue at an unnamed bathhouse — which kinda surprised me, too. “A bathhouse?!”
Phim said, “A bath house is a place where people, usually of the same sex, meet to have sex.”
I said, “I know what they are…I just didn’t think they actually still exist.”
Phim said not only do they exist, there’s a dozen (or so) in LA County, and they all need permits, too.
I was fascinated. “What else is going on that Average Joe wouldn’t think was going on as far as a health crisis in 2013?”
Turns out tuberculosis is still very much alive and well — mostly in places like Skid Row. Who woulda thought TB was even an issue anymore?
I asked Phim, “someone told me syphilis was almost wiped out and made a comeback in the gay male population in big cities like San Francisco and New York. True?”
Phim said, “if you mean almost wiped out like small pox, no. It was very much on the decline in the 90’s, and yes, now we’re seeing more cases.”
Phim was very nice. After she issued my health permit, she explained I’d have to take a blood-born pathogens class within 6 months, and she still didn’t know what they were going to charge for my permit, cause “this is all still new to us.”
And with that, I walked out of the Health Department with my lawyer — and some 3rd World, Olde Tyme signs, which now hang on my studio wall.
I’ve said it once, and I’ll say it again: I don’t want this blog to be about gossip. I’ll leave the gossip to the folks who wanna do that sort of thing. Not that there’s anything wrong with gossip…I’m sure if this was a gossip blog, I Shoot Porn would get a lot more traffic.
I will talk about my experiences in this crazy biz, and when something new happens, I’ll share it with you. Maybe that’s why I don’t have a lot to say anymore…up til today, I’ve seen — and blogged — it all. So when things happen over and over, I don’t want to sound like a broken record…so I don’t blog. But today was a first.
In a nutshell, Porno Princess walked off my set.
For the blog, here’s the story: my studio isn’t in Beverly Hills. Shit, this ain’t even Van Nuys…or Chatsworth. It’s East LA, and it’s a rough part of town, and to top it all off, my studio opens up to a very rough alley…an alley you might score some crack, or dump a dead body, or shoot someone…or do all three! In fact, all those things have happened in my alley, but I’ve never seen a dead body. My neighbors have, though.
I like my neighborhood, and I like my neighbors. They all know what I do, and no one has any sort of problem with it. My neighborhood has personality — along with a fairly well-known street gang. Big whoop.
Some of the agents have been to my studio, and all the agents know about my alley. The girls do, too, and no one’s ever said anything more than, “wow! Interesting alley. I bet I could score some crack here if I wanted it. Or dump a dead body in that dumpster. Or shoot someone, and then dump the body.”
No one’s ever not taken a gig cause of it.
Wait a sec. That’s a double-negative. I’m an ex-school teacher. I should know better than that. Let’s revise: No one’s ever refused to work due to the “environment” here. I put quotes around that word, cause Porno Princess today used it. She also didn’t feel comfortable working in a place where people where sweats, either. And finally, either the content I shoot, or this place, or both, were “beneath” her.
And she walked.
Here’s how it goes on my porno set: girl comes in, and if it’s her first time, I comment about the alley, then I show her into the space, and I go over where drinks are (this is when I point to the 5 gallon water cooler and the dorm-room fridge, where all the Arizona Ice Tea products are (I’m not a fan of soda)), and the rules with the bathroom (no flushing tampons or lotsa baby wipes, cause my drain is sensitive); then I introduce Porno Princess to Maggie (the wonder dog who’s seen more live sex acts committed than any other dog on the planet), The Minion (my trusty helper), and my make-up artist, who sits Porno Princess down and asks her girly questions about make-up and shit.
That’s when I usually break and go do my thang, which on this very day included lunch (super good BBQ ribs that were leftovers from my make-up artist’s Cinco de Mayo celebrations) and then I showered and changed out of my sweats to some real clothes (underpants, shorts, and a Licorice Pizza tee I scored at a flea market yesterday). Which is about the time I walked downstairs and didn’t see the girl. My make-up artist said, “she just left to go use the phone.”
I knew this wasn’t a good thing, but I had no idea she was down on me, or my staff, or my place. I walked outside, waved her back in, and then answered my phone, cause it started ringing…and it was her agent. “Billy, she’s really freaking out right now. She doesn’t want to work.”
My jaw dropped.
My jaw dropped the way it usually does when something dumb happens that I’ve never seen before. In a flash, all sorts of things were running through my head as to why: it didn’t even cross my mind that The Minion might have offended her, cause he doesn’t roll that way; nor does my make-up artist upset anyone, so when she walked in, I said to her agent, “I don’t believe in secret conversations. I’m putting you on speaker phone, and please repeat what you just told me.”
“She doesn’t feel comfortable there. She doesn’t like the environment. She also said someone is there in sweats, and she doesn’t think that’s appropriate for a workplace. She just thinks it’s all beneath her.”
All of us stood there, looking at the phone sitting in the palm of my hand: Make-up Artist, The Minion, Maggie the Wonderdog, Porno Princess, and me.
Maggie looked up at me, rolled her eyes, and said, “what a cunt. Of course she waited to bail after her make-up was done!”
I don’t know if I told you this, but only I could hear Maggie when she talks. She’s got a very attractive voice, too…kinda like the lady who talks to you on your GPS. Then Maggie followed up with, “don’t get angry. Don’t yell. Remember your practice. Just be nice to her and move on.”
Which is what I did.
And after everyone was gone, I called The Agent back and asked what the real reason was. “I don’t know. It’s really weird. I mean she likes sex. Shit, she went to a party last weekend and ended up banging like 5 dudes. But she’s been on a lot of drugs, lately. Maybe she got paranoid. Coke will do that to you.”
Yes, it will.
Even though it’s always dangerous to overgeneralize, I think Johnny summed it up pretty well when he left the following comment in my “Gone Fishin‘” blog: “All porners retire, cum back, retire, cum back…see you back here soon Billy.”
I also answered a question very similar to Johnny’s response to my “retirement” in a Reddit “AMA” (Ask Me Anything). (Yep, I’ve discovered Reddit, and I’m diggin’ it).
Honestly, I miss writing, and I miss my readers, and some of you said some awfully nice things about my blog…so I’m gonna resume. I’ll do my best and write as often as I can, and when I don’t feel up to writing, I’ll just post some of my arty-farty “erotic” pictures…and when I’m not up to do that, I’ll take another fishing trip…only this time, I’ll just post that pic of the old man fishing in the river.
And know that the fishing trip won’t take forever.