I think I've seceeded. I don't remember, actually. The reading, by a very fiery Jason Flores-Williams, was very good, and though he talked about secession, I think it was more about a kind of liberal rage at not being heard and having no power in this country. (Go, liberal rage!). There was also some performance art things I didn't quite understand, but it started to make sense three or four drinks in. The evening sort of devolved into me and Buffalo Mailer drunkenly stealing someone's Chinese food and Jason asking me questions like "tell me about life." I told him that you cannot expect decent conversation with an opening like that, and that he might do better if he stopped staring down my shirt.
The evening did make me wonder if their can't be a book about law and literature and sex. Namely, the law of porn/erotica. Buffalo and I were discussing Henry Miller (we're both fans, and his father wrote that book about Genius and Lust, which I have promised to go find) and I remembered what a brouhaha Tropic of Cancer caused in the legal world. It seems like the legal assessment of what literature is and is not porn has completely disappeared, especially when you can go buy a copy of Horny Jailbait Cheerleaders in multiple locations on 8th Avenue. But back in the day, they used to have trials about dirty books--not just Tropic of Cancer, but Lady Chatterly (go, John Thomas!), Fanny Hill, An American Tragedy, etc. I'm not sorry to see the trials of literature go, but I am curious as to what our newfound open mind has done to the secrecy and the naughtiness and the sense of rebellion that the best erotica can instill. Are there no taboos left?
And, if I can just make all this into a fun book--"The Trials and Tribulations of Dirty Books (That Everyone Should Read)" I'd be all set.
Note: Horny Jailbait Cheerleaders is not a real book. That I know of.