Slap Me Thrice….

People say that you only allow what’s done to you, to be done to you… Not in the sense of someone robbing you, but in ways they affect our lives by continuing to interact with them. Even then, we sometimes cannot actually get away from those that cause us dismay & misery. Slap me once, slap me twice is also what they say when you return to the vicinity of that/those persons who (for all intents & purposes) cause more harm than good…

Slap me thrice I say, for I dwell on a hopeful return to someone’s life who TORTURES me with her silence. And why do I?… What on earth keeps me pining away for this woman and her charms, conversations, presence, touch… It’s as much stubbornness as it is being forlorn, as my dignity was hurt just as much as my old, raggedy heart when she up & dismissed me. Hard to believe that isn’t it? That I still hang on to a few shreds of pride even though I groan about much of my life becoming listless and a fruitless search to find some form of joy again..  But, I do… I think the fact that I was not only prepared to let go of Donna, like NEVER before for the Married Woman to be in my life, and to some degree even did, is what kindles some angry & bitter feelings down there at the bottom of the barrel where the shards of this raggedy heart all lay.

Christ, I have a tattoo that says ‘Can’t Let Go’ on my arm,… I never knew how to, since completely letting go of Donna was against me at the core, at MY core. I challenged myself from time-time over the years to see if moving forward, and feeling ‘alive’ again was worth it, because to do that I would have had to no longer grasp at her ethereal hand when things were challenging and I was unsure how to navigate my dilemmas & low points. My center, my core was still aligned with her and everything she was to me, what we were to each other. So no, I resisted, and would NOT let her drift away once & for all. Like letting go of a handkerchief over a gusty day at the Grand Canyon,…. I wouldn’t do it, or allow myself to.

Not until the Married Woman. She changed that, by accident maybe,… but (as I repeat myself here) when I told her frankly & to her face, “I’m almost starting to believe you whenever you say you love me.”

“WHAT?… Why would I say that to you if I didn’t mean it? I don’t just say that to everyone…” she replied, stern & convincing.

I was dying for something like this,.. & now I had it. Which meant I could maybe, after 19+ years start living again, maybe…..?

Months passed, and I was preparing to leave the Beer Chateau when she & I had a conversation that helped me finally be a little angry with Donna for her overdose & what it did to me for the remainder of my life to that point. You see, the Married Woman & I had these ups, downs, good runs of just being incredible friends… and also intense, passionate sex. The sex kept both of us just as entangled as the friendship/feelings did. She tries to skirt responsibility by saying that’s how it is with EVERYONE she fools around with, every time, but that’s her stretching the truth just a little bit. No, I’m NOT the best, I’m not saying that,.. just it was consistently amazing,.. that’s all.

Age & wisdom, they sort of go together, but more in the sense of an animal learning by trial not to touch or piss on the electric fence. Wise people aren’t born that way, and experienced people don’t necessarily learn from their experience, but I learned I was ready to unburden myself of the heaviest weight I could ever drag around for her. And she didn’t care. At least not towards the end. Should she? Should the Married Woman have to be accountable for what she said in the throws of passion or even simple endearment? Seems like I have to be, the times I’ve opened my trap…lol.

Maybe she never fully knew any of this, how major of a shift I was ready to embark upon if we could find a way to remain in each others lives as lovers/friends. Now, before any of you get angry for what I’m going to say next; that’s too fucking bad. This is how I see it & myself.

Maybe she finally came down from the little plateau we had created and finally saw the middle-aged, broken, possessive, unwavering, and all too smart for my own good, quitter standing in front of her or on the other side of the phone. Maybe it was just as simple as I wasn’t worth ANY of the headache that I guess I was causing her…

I’ve been hurting everyday to some degree since the phone went silent on 10/17/2018 yet still would do anything to see it light up with her number on it… Because, like an old fool, when I told her I loved her, I meant it. When she was upset that I didn’t believe her that she loved me she knew deep down that she couldn’t, even if she wanted to… If she allowed herself to love me, then she wouldn’t have the upper hand,.. she would have to operate from a place of compromise from there forth. She didn’t trust that I would respect her even more if she did, and allow her even more freedoms the deeper we would’ve traveled. Not sure I can blame her for trusting her instincts even if it completely shattered my heart.

I just want my heart to be warm again, and she’s the one that can do that.

But,…. everybody’s got to live their own life, & God knows I’ve got to live mine. (Morrissey)

‘Slap Me Thrice’ is something that just came out of me on short notice, even though it’s been eating at me the past week/ten days. I will say that all of this ^ nonsense aside, I DID feel an actual relief when I came to my senses on Jan 1st or 2nd & realized that 2018 was gone… It was an awful year for me, one that took me lower than ANY year before and considering leaving all of you behind once & for all. 2018 didn’t get me though, and it now it can’t, ever.

Thanx for reading this latest attempt at ‘unburdening’ myself in quite an embarrassing way, hopefully it can help you avoid being stubborn, lonely, & impossible like I am. Stories soon, I needed this first. Happy 2019…. ~ Swiney.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

I’ll Tell You Where The Gold Is…

If it’s not my head that hurts, then it’s my back. If it’s not my back that hurts, then it’s my heart. Occasionally, I’m fortunate enough to have all of the above hurting all at once.

I wrote on Twitter earlier that I think my lower discs are fusing together in somewhat of a joking fashion, altho I wasn’t really joking. I am SO inactive these past 2-3 years, that I can barely manage to stay busy for longer than 3 hours before I need to lay down and sleep for a while…

Yesterday I went bowling w/some family and it was harrowing how hard it was for me to throw the 14, 13, & 12lb balls down the lane without cringing in pain or directly into the gutter.

This sucks, I don’t like it. In fact, I don’t think I like anything right now…

What I would give for the right exposure to the right drug addicts so I could hop on that junkie-wagon and set sail into opiated bliss….

And if you want to know where the gold is, ask Josh Homme,…. he has all the answers, trust me.

-Swiney

Soap Factory

With 2019 approaching, I was challenging myself to find a direction or focus for Belligerent Purity. Something that was easy to jot down was (working) titles for potential stories I may write, kind of like when I used to do the ‘Bone Barrel’ posts years back.. They were a mash of short tales/recounts of excursions from any/all phases of the Swiney life-arc…

I don’t intend to bring back the ‘Bone Barrel’ format, where I’d mash a few stories together in one posting, instead I’ll let all of them exist on their own whether they’re long or small in word count since I’d rather they all just be their own entries..

Here’s what I wrote down for titles of the experiences I hope I can bring myself to share, since these would be a great way to get me into deeper writing should they get me to hit some sort of stride & be confident again on the qwerty. Confident in the sense of allowing myself to share more honestly and deeply about Donna, and the Married Woman, whom both broke my heart in entirely different ways. (whatevs, if that’s to come, it will…)

Title Blast;

-Off The Post-redux, The Toughest Street In Town, Winter Solstice/Winter Summer, That Damned-Doomed Kitty, Toughest Street 2.0, Bishop; Do The Trick With The Knife, Breaking Collarbones At The Beach, Fuck Your Golf Course!, No Fucking Pacifists, 2×4 Compound Fracture, Deadwomans Turn, Ripping Out Jeremy Piven’s Heart on Sunset Blvd., Gino Gambino Of The Cappucino Family, The John Bonham Experience-20 year anniversary, (When) She Said She Loved Me, You Don’t Have To Sleep On The Couch, Cra-Zee Wear USA, Giving Arnold Schwarzeneggar The Finger To His Face At Rose & Main st., Venice & Beethoven, Great White Shark Syndrome, It Would Rather Die Than Go Back To Sleep.-

Ok, we all know it’s not likely I’ll get anything up before the New Year, but if I do, then maybe it can serve as a primer for some of this stuff waiting in the wings.

Til next time, goodnight & godbless. ~Swiney.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Social Median….

I was all worked up earlier over someone who BLASTED me in my DM’s on Twitter.. Now, all it does is make me see how much further away I am from the few friends I have left. Family too.

This person(who flamed me) isn’t a ‘friend’ of any caliber, especially not after that. So that’s not a big deal in any way. But not having ANY outlets I feel I can use, ever, to talk about any of this or anything else, is telling me too much.

I miss having people to talk to, as in, specific people. They are no longer in my life in a capacity to bolster or bounce all of this hullaballoo back and forth with. Be it death, or the distance of time, or them removing themselves from my life by choice, those individuals are no longer options…

The reality is that I’ve marooned myself, years ago. I actually don’t even know how to talk about anything anymore, I just feel the impulse to do so. And with no one left, I wonder how much longer I’ll be able to keep talking to myself?

Stay warm everyone,.. it gets cold out there.

-Swiney.

“All this boredom, all this drink

All this time I’ve tried to think.

So I get on a bus & I go somewhere else,

And I sit in a pub & I talk to myself.”

-SubHumAns

 

I Was Up Above It….

It’s getting old, this feeling like a total out of place loser, thing. But,… there’s no change in sight. This all really comes from the inside and if there’s one thing I don’t do, is change.

Soooo,… I’ll just keep hating myself, my surroundings, and my inability to make the needed changes to not be so lame and so toxic.

Side Note; I remember when NIN’s first video plays were coming across the tv, and knew right away that their type of music wasn’t right for me at that time. I wouldn’t allow anything synth or electronic anywhere near my eardrums until around the turn of the century. Now, waay back in my soft brain I did catalog some of the songs on that 1st LP since I was around enuff people over the years that played it. I went ahead and put it on a few days ago and found that ‘Pretty Hate Machine’ is actually really good.

Now why am I adding this to my initially measly two paragraph post? Because one of the tracks I do remember from this LP was ‘Down In It’. After a few spins it grew on me and I have to say this upcoming lyric definitely applies to my current feeling of being lame, inadequate, and close to being totally worthless.

“I used to be so big and strong

I used to know my right from wrong

I used to never be afraid

I used to be somebody.”

Yeah,… I used to feel like I could do anything, beat anyone when I was confident, or even felt some sense of my own personality… And that’s almost ENTIRELY gone now.

The Married Woman no longer talking to me is a big part of it. Me not having a career anymore is a big part of it. Me not being able to handle heavy, or even moderate drinking anymore is a big part of it. Not having anything around me that shows I’m creating or contributing to any sort of energy is a big part of. Me never forgiving myself for Donna’s overdose is a big part of it.

Lame. Toxic. Inadequate….. Whatevs. More of the same for this place, right? But, when a keyboard is all I have to talk to, this is what comes out.

I’ll try and write something less gloomy when I hate myself a little less in a few weeks/month.

see ya. -Swiney.

 

What Has To Be Done….

It is a bit late for me to ‘try’ and be productive after a day of where I was nothing of the sort. So, upon returning from another night of imbibing Peroni and pushing video poker buttons I figured it was imperative I jot down ‘what has to be done’ tomorrow, and possibly the following day-two.. I use countless pieces of copy paper for my lists, my scenes orders, my update schedules,.. endless arrangements and future tasks are jotted down, with varying, if any, success to any of them.

I was determined. And for me, even an hour or two of ‘determined’ behavior is all that I have to actually hold me together these past 15 years… maybe longer. If I can find my determination and grasp it, then I can make enough happen to keep myself from capsizing and running into true financial peril. But something of a deeper importance arose… something I wasn’t trying to avoid, I just wasn’t letting it come to the surface and overpower me. But here in these late, small hours, it was necessary I make time for this, late or not. Ruining tomorrow or not. Ruining the entire world or not, this is what had to be done.

I had to write about 15 years ago, today.

~

It was in the Easton/Fowler part of Central California where my Mom died. She and my Pops were returning from going into town and getting an ice cream, when he made a costly, fatal error at an intersection I don’t recall the name of. I’ve been there, and know/have seen the blind spot. But Pops unfortunately made a mistake, and they were hit on Moms’ side of the car.

~

After what I thought was a semi-accomplished day, I was headed over to Plush Pocket but stopped by my Uncle LeeRoy’s house for a bit since I knew my Aunt Cheat was in town visiting him and having her Suburban fixed. They let me know as soon as I got there that Mom & Pops were in a wreck & that Moms’ head had hit the windshield. She was on the way to the ER and like everyone else, we were waiting for an update.

My Moms was tough beyond words internally, but was now a frail woman… As soon as I heard about her head hitting the windshield I knew deep down she wasn’t going to make it.

There were so many things happening to me personally that day, and at that time… but I don’t care about any of it, regardless of how it impacted me and this overall tragedy directly, to some degree. Another time will see that dissected, and exposed, but not now. Now is only the time for my Mom, and for the fact that she’s been gone for 15 years, to this (waking) day.

I remember when she & Pops left the Beershack that last time, and I saw her wave at me as they backed up the driveway, and on to Fernglen. Her blue eyes centered the warm smile that was wrought with affection, and the small hand waving expressed hope of being together again sooner, instead of later. 15 years removed, it is one of the only clear images I still have of my mothers face, as time does funny things to our memories, and snapshots of those people and things most dear to our hearts, adding haze & clouds more often than not. But this one remains vivid, indelible. What happened thereafter, of which I write about here & now, indubitably is what burned those last fleeting seconds of seeing my Mom alive so clearly.

My mother’s name was Iris Virginia Umfress-Rowland. She died in a car wreck in Fresno, Ca on Nov 24, 2003.

I love you Moms, everyday. ~RIP~

-Timothy.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

The Ash is Heavier Than Sawdust…..

You never see the threshold, you feel it. It’s a pretty bad place too, because when you get close enough to feel it you know it’s real, and that it takes things away from you a little at a time & never returns any of it. Looking at the sun,… that fucks up your eyes, burns em out and leaves spots…  Getting close to the threshold does the same to your spirit as it darkens it, like when they drag cuts of meat through ash to turn it into pet food grade… the ash leaves a darkness on the flesh you can’t remove or lighten.

Threshold,… it’s down there waiting, and when you’re not careful your subconscious starts opening these holes in the floor, trapdoors more like. And then you see it’s just around the corner or on the other side of the wall and it tempts you to peer in, to not fret about what it always does to you when you get close. And just like that a little more of you has turned grey forever…

We only can see what we see. When we can see it.

ciao, -Swiney.

Who Knew?…

There was a red dot by the bell icon here on my dashboard for BP and when I clicked it, I found that I had a notification & ‘thank you’ from WordPress for having signed up for this blog SIX years ago… Really? It’s been 6 already?..

Whatevs, the real story behind BP is how many posts I’ve pulled down,.. has to be 100 by now.

Anyhizzle, I suppose a thanx is in order to all one or two dozen of you that still check in here from time-time to see what I have to say,.. or have to say before taking it down..lol.

Happy anniversary to Belligerent Purity and to all of you, the readers here. I’ll (honestly) try to do better, post more, and hopefully not feel the need to destroy whatever I create here like I have in the past.

I felt a headache coming on earlier so I opened another large Genesee lager & dropped a sumatriptan to help conquer the oncoming crush of my brain here in the next hour-two. What a cycle it is, that half the time I want to drink ANY amount of beer I need to medicate in order to avoid headaches that have me looking at my .45 as an alternate migraine/hangover remedy….

Older, still addicted, still trying to find a way to tomorrow. That’s all we get if you really think about it.

‘I Won’t Share You’ by The Smiths is playing as I finish this…. it’s a good one to take this one out…

“Life tends to come and go,

that’s ok as long as you know…”

goodnight everyone. -Swiney

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

(Not)Born Again…

While it has zero to do with this post, the Born Again LP from Black Sabbath is prolly my fave album of their entire catalog,… In the sense of, if I had to pick only ONE of their albums for a desert island, etc.. You get what I’m saying… But, it was what was playing when this one(post) popped into my peanut brain as I took a brief glance at Twitter, which is, seriously the bane of my 48 year old existence. But, Twitter being horrible can wait for another time, or never, I’m fine with that. Now, on with the show.

~

For all of those people who’ve ever had a cup of coffee in XXX, or even a long, deep drink from it’s well, at some point we all feel if there’s some form of magic hovering around the set when things go well. I never recorded an album, or had to go through the process of writing songs and feeling them come together in rehearsal, etc… But I’m sure there’s a point when you know you have something good, or fucking really good cooking by the time you get to the studio and are ready to lay down those tracks.

In porno, as you shoot scenes for your movie, you can feel that energy starting to build too, and by the time you only have 1 or 2 scenes left to wrap it, you know going into the edit bay you were able wrangle, arrange, photograph, and capture that has a real zest to it… You almost can’t wait for the scenes to be captured so you can sit down in the edit bay and see how well the buzz you felt while shooting translates…

And when they all turn out great, that’s when(as a shooter/director) you feel that magic,… that maybe that magic IS real, and you weren’t imagining there was some glow to your project as you just sewed it together.. It’s pretty intoxicating to be honest, and makes you feel a certain way that you can’t get from square/L7 types of jobs… Just like how musicians must feel as I referenced before…

The performers get to feel the magic more often since they’re the real source of the vibe, be it good or lame.. Still, it was rare, even after a dull scene that there wasn’t some sense victory in the eyes of all of the dreary hours of labor we used to suffer en route to paying our bills back in the real world.

And there it is,.. the TRUE source of that magic.. That $ in the middle.

Look, how many sets was I on over the years? Working for Mike, Vince, Everhard, Kahn Tusion, that LOSER Handjob Will Hanson, Shane’s World, Mr. Cheeks/Nasty.com, Tommy Byron, New Sensations, Red Light District, PXP, and so on.. It had to be close to a 1000 overall, still, I was there, feeling that glow, that ultimate WIN for the day since I didn’t have to just clean 16 pools, battle traffic, wait for my customers to pay a measly $60-$80 bux for a fucking MONTH’S worth of service… I just got paid $125, $250, $400, $600, or $1,000 bux for ONE days work!

Yeah,.. that’s where the magic came from, because porno is the EASIEST money you will ever make in you god-damned life. We all have to deal with dickheads at our jobs or on the road or out in the field,.. but in porno you might get your dick sucked. In porno you might get your dick sucked by TWO chicks… In porno you might get to bang a few hundred different chicks that are all WAY out of your league, fucking GREAT at sex, and make you feel like your anywhere from 18-25 again…

The EASIEST money you’ll ever earn in your god-damned life…

That is why people don’t want to leave porno. That is why people get high on their own supply in XXX. That is why ‘legends’ turn into old lions waiting for a rib or leg bone from a torn apart carcass… Because they sure ain’t gonna be able to run down any fresh meat on their own back in the real world after years of basically poaching/caged hunts for young pussies. Now, I am not blaming any of them for this, as I see where returning to the actual jungle is a horrible alternative. But it’s pretty nauseating to see that not ONE person ever acknowledges any of this I’m talking about, as maybe they feel that would be betrayal to the landscape of porno. The landscape they’re so terrified of being pushed away from.

I’m over porno. Or, I’m trying to be, as I don’t have anything to get my hands on yet outside of XXX, so I’m still sort of still here lingering around wondering if I should still do some trade scenes here-there. When honestly, that also kind of nauseates me when I think about it because then I’m the old lion hoping for a carcass to snatch a piece from before the hyenas show up and take the last pieces for themselves. Fuck all of that,.. I’m not an old lion, per-se`, even though I am. In spirit I don’t feel I am, but with the harsh reality of NO chicks wanting to work with me on camera anymore I get incredibly bitter, because if I’m in a place where I’m not wanted, then I’m not sticking around.

Sure, if I still had money, I’d still be feeling the magic and I’d still be crushing hot chicks with my 260+ lb frame and blasting them with way bigger loads of pigsauce than should be possible for an old loser like myself. I was good in my scenes, and took to the porno style of banging very easily. But I have to do things my way, and without any money to do it, it’s time for me to fucking bail…

Some of you out there are still feeling that magic, so, rock n roll. But if any of you try and say that porno itself is magical, and that it’s not the money that makes it all so fucking rosey & warm, I might break a fucking bottle over your head. Heads if necessary.

Don’t talk about porno like it’s some great place to be, since it’s not. If you’re damaged, or lonely, an outsider, an addict, or a loser, or an alcoholic, a swindler, a degenerate, desperate, abandoned, or just plain hate yourself, then you can find a place in porno and with some luck have a chance to put yourself back together. But never forget that there are NO winners in porno, not even you.

I don’t owe anybody anything, other than my honesty.

I’ll catch you all around here another time… this is all for now.

-Zero The Hero (fka T. von Swine)

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Just Another Day At 2228 1/2 Penmar ave….(21 Years Ago)

I was in the brown chair watching tv in the front room, having just got there not more than 30 minutes past, somewhere on beer #1 or #2 when I heard her voice from around the corner in the kitchen,..

“How old are you again?”

“Twenty seven.”

“Oh my god,.. you’re getting SO old…”

And there it was, a laughable exchange out of nowhere as clearly being 27 was (in the moment) some type of HUGE accomplishment for me.

I sat there and held this wry smile, as Donna had just owned me out of nowhere, putting me basically 30 years ahead of her, even though that number was only 3 years/4 months…

I was officially her ‘old man’ at that moment, and went back to erasing what was left of the beer in my hand before asking for another.

Our love carried through the house like the breeze from the Pacific Ocean that came thru the door 350 days out of the year and we kept living, for that short amount of remaining time….

~XO~

 

 

Wipes & Waters… (Year One: 2002-2003)

None of it was ever meant to happen, as there was never a plan or desire to end up there as an actual player in the adult landscape. My epiphany at Mr. Jones’ place will always connect the world I was soon to leave with the world I am still in now, 15 years later…

~

Dec 2002-Nov 2003: The Douche Crew

I’m sure desperation fuels many people’s jaunts into the realm of porno, as it did mine. Remember those words Exene said so many years ago?.. “There’s worse ways of being desperate than being poor.” Well, I was poor, and terribly desperate on top of that perpetual fact… My wife had been dead for 5-6 years and I had yet to find ANYTHING come close to filling that hole other than consuming alcohol gallons at a time, which was even starting to wear on me (heavily) then. There was no real hands on the console to pull me out of the descent just yet,… there was still a few years of ultra-self destruction to be had before I saw the signs of not being of the same capacities as before.

Varnish can be stripped from the inside…

So initially, the lure of an extra $100 bux to hold a camera and wait around for guys to spray some girls face with their cum was enough to have me right there in the front row every time. My pools were only making me between $60-$130 bux per MONTH each,(about $1400-$1600 a month gross) minus chems, fuel, beer, rent, misery, etc.. An extra $100 for that? Yeah, I’m in.. And there was no pressure like I would’ve felt if I had gone and tried to cut it with Mike at the time who was in his phase of going from Anabolic-Red Light District. I knew I wasn’t ready for that kind of responsibility and also knew (deep down) that working with him meant little to no room for mistakes. If there was any decision in my life that I was right about, it was that one..

Picking up shoots with Andrew was too perfect since none of us really had too much experience, or a leg up on each other whenever it came time to put those scenes together. We were all on the same learning curve at the beginning, but that didn’t last long given the competitive nature of a few key players, namely me. Andrew had the money and did most of the heavy lifting for arranging, booking, and handing down what the website owners wanted in regards to the pick-ups/scenarios. After they had shot about 10, 15 scenes tops, I came in and was groomed to be main camera on the 2 camera shoots. Mostly due to availability, looking back I know Andrew wanted Joe to be the main guy, but he was doing this for kicks and in hopes that he’d luck his way into getting his dick sucked now-then.

Joe was a burnout of Hollywood,.. had a mom that was in casting I believe, and had been there forever, knowing everyone who had ever amounted to anything, like one has to if you’re gonna last in that town. Joe directed some legit joints/films, and was no phony, but he sure tried hard to remind you he was cut from some form of Showbiz cloth… Growing up in Venice, being as local as it gets as far as L.A. standards go, I could see Joe coming a mile away… Which is why we got along great whenever he wasn’t strung out and wishing he had more coke than he could afford with this pittance we were getting from Andrew.

As me & Joe were the main camera squad, we had a cat named Jimmy for pictures who was great, as he was pretty intense if you tried to push him around and he let you know he wasn’t taking any backseats unless you physically put him there yourself. There was also a guy named Jason Waters, he kind of ran the house where we shot most all of the gangbangsquad & teensforcash scenes for the first 6-7 months. Jason was also great, an actor of some degree, or at least that was his ambition at the time, he was thoughtful and seemed to want people to be better than they were capable of being. The people in this house, of this crew, weren’t as talented as he might’ve hoped they could or should be. We were ALL losers, hence why we were all now giving shooting porno for some unknown internet entity a serious whirl instead of realizing whatever real dreams we may have had up to that point..

No, we were descending…

Rapidly into what was going to become an environment that begs you to act on your impulses at every turn… As adults we should’ve clearly seen what was going to tear all of us apart and who would be the real cancer of the group, which of course came from the center… Andrew. Still, we all had great notions that we were people that survived scenarios of condescending wit and judgment, and that made us somehow immune to what this world of porno was about to throw into our faces… But on a descent, you’re not immune to anything.

Ok, who else was part of this douche crew?.. Well, Jeff was the editor, and actually seemed to be the one with the best skillset who helped get all of this rolling as he chopped something for Andrew, who in turn lobbed it to the internet dicks, who then agreed to send Andrew money to shoot a few scenes to see if he could pull it off. Jeff’s nickname was ‘Keeper’ (never knew why) and altho he was a bit of a cave dweller, he was also one of the nicest guys in the crew. Out in L.A. chasing a dream from like Indiana or something.. I believe he even lived with Andrew while he was renting the guest house at John Nelson’s place (where I did the pool and met Andrew) so he was there from the inception. But once we were all shooting at the house I believe he moved in there as well.

Ho-Quan… now there was a real slice of L.A. in that dude.. He was a very witty, sharp tongued cat that never really got involved in any of the shoots, but rented a room there and somehow was always cruising thru when scenes were going on, angering Andrew to no end. Ho-Quan was awesome tho,.. he has that Asian-faggot energy where he was just hoping you’d say something out of line or insensitive so he could go OFF on you. He walked thru the room one day as we were gearing up and had one of those Michael Jackson medical masks over his face. We took notice and someone hit him up about it, he pulled it down briefly, coughed, and said “S.A.R.S.”, rolled his eyes left-right, and pulled it back up and tromped off to his room.

I thought that was hilarious.

Gangbangsquad.com was the first one they had us produce and was a 4 on 1 scene everytime, based on the Blacks on Blondes/Interracial dynamic. Which was actually stolen from Anabolic/Diabolic, and I mean ACTUALLY stolen to help get the B on B empire up and running. The guys behind B on B took content that was produced and property of Ana/Dia and just built a site around it. They made so much money that they started producing their own content in the same vein and just settled out of court by the time Anabolic got around to suing them. By then it was just pocket change to those guys..

Anyways, for the GBS shoots (gangbangsquad) we did a take/rip off of the Bangbus reality style pickups since that was becoming all of the rage. I never watched any of the Bangbus/reality based web porno since I had dial up, and no extra money to do so, so even tho this was a commonplace way to do intros for scenes, it was still totally new to me. But the premise was basic; drop girl off somewhere, approach her with camera and meat vendor(s) in tow, commence streetside convo that entices her to jump in the car and go to some strange house with strange men which will then (of course) lead to her willingly removing all clothing and having what the fuck ever kind of sex we have lined up for her that day… Yeah, rocket science all the way.

But I’ll say this, getting out on the street with the performers and crew was where I learned I had a knack for all of this. Once away from Andrew, we could all start to use our instincts and sense of humor together to help pull off these impromptu pickups all over the Valley. That was where me & Shane Diesel, Dirty Harry, Sledge Hammer (RIP), Jake Jacobs, etc. all got to create a routine together that was half of the fun for that day. Sure, they were all getting their rocks off at some point, but when you have the ability to actually inject some levity to the process of porno, it makes it feel like we just wrapped our own version of a live tv show. Porno is meant for jerking off,.. nobody knows that more than I do.. so you can never get too far away from the mission of trying to make each scene as strokeable as possible. But the yucks & the hamming it up in the intro can really set even the most jaded stroker at ease if you don’t let it run on too long.

Now, once we hit March of 2003 Andrew started to get more sites thrown his way, after GBS the next one was TFC (TeensForCash), then he got BoatBangers, BackseatBangers, & finally MILFSeeker was added down the line. The increase in scenes had me splitting up my pool route to where some days I just blew it off altogether since I knew I had a $100-$125 dollar check at the end of the day. Dirty Harry & Uncle Jack were the original two guys for TFC, with Jack being replaced after a couple months by Jake Jacobs, aka Jay Crew. Me & Harry became really good friends over those months and I revere that guy as one of the most loyal and kind souls to ever cross my path in XXX. He and I would bet on baseball as he admittedly was a gambling man.. My current residency at Plush Pocket billiards as the reigning beer champion eventually brought Harry over to the pool hall where he had a bit of a renaissance with his pool playing past.. But, another story for later on down the line.

Shane, Sledge, and Harry were the three crown jewels I took from my time shooting for Andrew, as they proved over the years to come that they weren’t anything like the fair-weather variety of friend that populates 99% of the porno landscape. I’ll steer this back to the GBS days for a little bit since I mentioned Shane & Sledge, who were regulars on those shoots. The rest of the crew, er, gang, for the GBS days consisted of a medley of Mopes that had clearly seen better days in their ‘performing’ career, or were just about to hit the glass ceiling in a disappointing end to their hopes of someday banging A-list snow bunnies on cam for money… Altho, Tee Reel came thru the GBS and did pretty good for himself as he and I would later work together on the regular once we were both at RLD. But, I digress…

Now, looking back, I can’t be too hard on the Mopes we had for the GBS shoots, especially early on since there wasn’t much focus in the room yet. Once we were able to get Andrew OUT of the room during scenes, it all started to smooth out, which should have been a bigger red flag to everyone, (especially me) for the months ahead as to who/what we were going to have to deal with whenever he wanted to get jealous or throw a tantrum over being asked second instead of first. Either way, once his dumb ass was out, I had a much easier time working w/Joe on the 2 camera attack to these 4 on 1 pileups. I still was terrible for the most part at camera work, but my instincts were good and I had a great dynamic with the performers 9/10 times, which is where you really win your battles on set whenever there’s wood problems, vagina problems, drug problems, and/or attitude problems, which ARE gonna happen.

Now before I get too lost in the who, what, where aspects of the crew and those early days, let me recant a story or two so you can start to sink your teeth into what is was like to roam the realms of porno with T. von Swine, circa 2003.

~Romanian Meltdown~

Cherry Modeling,…  it wasn’t a ’boutique’ agency by choice, they just weren’t capable of being main players. Not to say Cherry didn’t have a decent gal here-there, they just couldn’t hold them long since there were too many other agents to scoop them up once they started to get noticed around town. Now, in the case of Euro talent, back then you had NO idea if the chick was gonna come in and devour your entire crew, or if she’d scream whenever someone unzipped their pants. The internet still wasn’t great at that time, and who knows what kind of actual background Tara(owner of Cherry Modeling) had on any of the gals that came over from Praha or Budapest, etc.

Well, we get this gal with stringy dyed blonde hair, not a great complexion, or face, or body, but whatever, we apparently needed to get a scene done and this was on Andrew for hiring her, not us. We just had to get her piled on, double penetrated, and sprayed with greasy loads of sperm so we could all go home with checks. But,… something about her overall lack of pedigree in ANY area of attractiveness had me doubtful the whole way. When we realized she knew enough English to say her 1st name, and maybe answer yes or no, we should’ve just bagged it right then and there. But, I wasn’t around real pros/shooters yet, and had not yet known the real power of killing a scene before it turns into a complete goat fuck and just wastes more time and money than needed to be.

I took Shane & this kid Dre to do the pickup over at the Galleria and it was LAME.. lol. It was so bad, I have zero recollection of how we set it up or pulled it off since I was so in disbelief that we were actually going to try and shoot this chick, that was basically an Eastern European refugee. Ok, so we get back to the house and get her ready to do the second intro where the guys sit around and then move in on her, removing clothes, groping, etc., and she’s just not having it. I’m like, “Honey, what are you doing, you have to smile(making the smiley face and happy eyes). You need to be happy and not look like you hate them.”

She hated them,… lol.

Well, not them per se`, but hated where she was at that moment no doubt. The guys are starting to joke a little bit and you hear faint laughs and giggles from Sledge and Shane, and I don’t think that’s helping all that much. So I get everyone back on point and I say “Ok, lets try again, be happy,.. try and have fun… if you have a problem, we’ll take a break.” She stares at me like I just threw her parents in a concentration camp… (sigh)

So we get her top off and the guys are groping and out of nowhere Sledge and Shane break their dicks out… sorry, their VERY big dicks out. She LOSES it and gets up and runs to the bathroom. Fuck…

I tell the guys it’s gonna be a minute and then pull them aside for a quick chat. “Ok look,.. there’s No way we’re gonna get this one to work, you guys still wanna try or should we send her home?” They were like, “Fuck it, give her another chance.”

WHAAAT? I thought… Did you guys just not see her RUN from your cocks? But in their defense, they’re all meat vendors,.. they don’t care about that. They just want to get their dicks sucked, shoot a big load and feel that paycheck in their hands. They don’t give a shit if some Eastern Euro is gonna cry thru the whole thing… It was just them being jaded, not cruel or insensitive. Maybe a little insensitive.

So, now that Petra, or Olga, or whatever her name was, is fully barricaded in the bathroom I tell them to wake up Tara so we can figure out what to do about this nuclear reactor melting down and about to go critical. She(Tara) was wrecked with a hangover that day, which I thought was amazingly funny, seeing her struggling thru it just like I did on a daily basis. And it was a THICK hangover too, one where I could see it hurting her face and eyes, no way was she ready for anything we were about to dump in her lap coming out of almost a stupor since she was pretty much knocked out the entire time this tragedy was transpiring.

“What’s going on, what’s the problem?”

“Your chick just brokedown and locked herself in the bathroom after these dudes broke out their dicks. I don’t think she can handle this…”

“Oh she’s gonnna handle it alright!…..”  As she stomped off to go do some damage control and remind all of us who was in charge,… Yeah, right.

Someone called Andrew to let him know things had hit a snag, so now it was me, Joe, the 4 Mopes, Andrew, Olga or Petra or whatever, and Tara, all ready to witness this miraculous U-turn that was going to get Olga, or Petra, or whatever, happy enough to take off all of her clothes and do a mini-gangbang with four endowed black dudes. Olga was to my left on the couch by the Mopes, Tara to my right in one of the recliners, Joe & Andrew across from me as we waited for Tara to hold court and get us back to hitting record buttons…

“You remember what we talked about? Right?”

Olga nods yes, not really making eye contact.

“You know you HAVE to do this scene or I’m putting you back on a plane, tonight! Right?”

She nods again.

“Ok, I don’t want ANYMORE problems out of you. I spent a lot of money getting you out here and you’re going to do this goddamned scene! Got it?”

Now she’s nodding and doing everything she can to not look Tara in the eye.

“Ok, we’re fine. You guys can shoot the scene now.”

Watching Tara intimidate Olga, Petra, whatever, in front of that WHOLE room made me want to vomit into Tara’s face. The fact that Andrew allowed it was just as nauseating so I called him over for a quick one on one…

“Dude, you just gonna let her FORCE that chick to do the scene like that?”

“Yeah. What the fuck do I care? It’s none of my business. That’s between them.”

Motioning to the crew I said, “Ok, lets just get back to where we were, the BJ’s. Go ahead and get your edge for a minute and then I’ll bring you guys in and we’ll try and go through this in one big run since I don’t think we’re gonna want to stop too many times if you know what I mean.” Everyone did know what I meant, and if we didn’t get this in one solid take, like all of the way to the anal at least, that this chick was gonna start thinking about it again and bail. You could just sense it.

We were on the verge, and I instructed Olga(or whatever, whatever) back down to her knees as the two bloated cocks moved in. I told her start jerking first, then to use her mouth and we’ll make this go as fast as possible once they all get hard. She looked at me w/the most hopeless but intended smile she could possibly muster. There was tragedy brewing,..seconds away and she could feel it, but just didn’t know it yet.

“Ok guys move in, dicks up,… and action!”

She held these two bloated cocks close to her face and went towards the first one, but didn’t suck it. She turned to the other one, and didn’t suck that one either… Instead there was this lips only smile/grimace that came across her face as the tears poured and her whimpers overpowered her, starting to bawl one last time in between a four man forest of dicks…

100% meltdown accomplished.

In that moment, Olga had actually won the day, and I loved it. I loved it that she shoved it right down Tara and Andrew’s slimy throats without even trying. NOT doing the scene toally boned them, albeit only short-term, but the fact that they had to lump this one down felt great. The dudes finally saw how upset she was and totally backed off, putting their pants back on and not saying a word knowing this ship had just sank to the bottom. There was a bit of a pall in the room before Tara again lost her mind and tore into Olga, but by that time it seemed to have no affect, Olga knew her days w/Tara had the shelf life of a bowl of mayonnaise on a 100 degree day.

Seeing that type of train wreck firsthand allows one to really observe tendencies and character of those you’re supposed to consider your ‘crew’. Ok, agents can be dicks, they sometimes have reason to be hard on the whores since they’re in a position to get ripped off a lot of the time. But Andrew,… that was gross. He was already so greedy and desperate to make something of himself (financially) via porno that he didn’t care if it showed. Now, of our crew, they gave him waay more slack than I would since I knew him the shortest amount of time, but I was in a dangerous place personally in those years. Still drinking heavily, getting in fights now-then, working the pools in the SFV with no A/C,.. I had a LOT of scorpion blood in those days and was quick to judge bad behavior for what it was. There was no reason not to play the game straight up in my opinion, the money was getting HANDED to him, and they were funneling him site after site, and yet he still was ok w/this agent strong arming some chick who we’re never going to see again for a scene we could re-schedule w/a better performer anyways.

What a fucking loser…

Andrew always liked to say in those early days, “Fake it til you make it, man.”

Fake what? Either you can pull it off or you can’t… That’s the school I came from. We didn’t fake anything growing up in Venice, and hearing that ‘mantra’ from Andrew made perfect sense.. He was a hack, and he was tired of struggling, which I get/can relate to. But fake it he did,… and make it he did, eventually. So good for him by sticking to his guns and being a phony, piece of shit manipulator his entire run thru porno…

You can prolly start to see where Year One is headed, or at least what the ‘ending’ is going to be. But sit tight, I have a couple, maybe few more chapters left before I move on to Year Two.

That’s all for now. Thanx for reading,…. ~ Swiney

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Luxury Tax….

What can you do when they aren’t able to love you? What’s left for you when you have to go back to dragging around that ragged, beat to shit heart that never gets to feel warm anymore?

It’s real easy to misconstrue what is and is not a luxury in this Western world. The West has pushed and taken SO much, spearheaded perceptions and expectations of what happiness is, can be, and should be, but has LONG forgotten what sacrifices are needed to actually earn, or for sure deserve fucking ‘luxuries’….

I’m not ignorant of that,.. not at all. Which is prolly why I’ve dragged around my dead wife’s heart for 20 years to keep me from being fooled by some challenger to the throne as to what real commitment & true friendship can be between a man & woman.. We had that, and when it was over there was that grim feeling all the way to the core of my bone marrow that I would not feel it again. Which I believed, and still do, even though in a paragraph or two I’m most likely going to contradict that to some point…

There were a few relationships over 19 years that I committed to, and did what I could to open or share my heart, but I’m no fool, it was important to have those women close and in my life everyday as a distraction and as an opportunity to see if my heart of stone could be saved. And by them, it wasn’t to be.

The only thing I’ve seen in my middle aged existence that does not have a shelf-life is actual love for someone, or a true passion for something in life if another person just isn’t your thing. You see, I can barely conjure up Donna’s face anymore if I try to, but I can always hear her voice any time I want to ‘talk’ to her. Sure I have photos, but 21+ years after seeing her leave my car and walk to the door of Center Sinai that morning it’s all I can do to recant more than a handful, maybe two, of her vividly…

But I can always hear her. And maybe that’s how she always finds me…

Now that luxury of being able to find love that I had once, did happen twice, albeit a bit one-sided for the most part. The Married Woman didn’t intend for me to fall in love with her, nor did I. But there’s no taking back what happened or what was felt, or is still.. as I do, and will always love her dearly, no matter how she shuns me from here on out.

That’s the timeless, no shelf-life aspect I was talking about, since she & I will prolly never be on any terms like we had, but the room for her in my heart has not decreased… it’s still hers & will always be. Donna has dominion so to speak, but I did realize that after 19 years I’d done more than pay & serve my penance to everything that she & I were & always will be.

The Married Woman was un-expected, in every way. An un-expected luxury in every sense of the word since who am I to be able to find true love twice in this lifetime? I am who I am, and I did.. and the Married Woman even loved me for a short while,.. and I was,.. oh so happy again.

Her ending our affair was as deep of a wound as I’ve endured since May of 97′,.. but one I could see coming & did my best to prepare for since it was obvious my time with her was too good to be true for too much longer. Another luxury that had to be relinquished at my heart’s expense.

One time I told the Married Woman, “You know, I almost believe you when you say you love me…” to which she took offense.

“What? Why in the hell would I say I love you if I didn’t mean it? I don’t just say that to anybody..”

That was when the ice broke and I fell through.. That galvanized everything for me and still has to this day. But, lets leave that, at that. She can’t love me anymore, so she doesn’t.

That luxury I had with her was of the highest/rarest quality and one I waited 19 years to find again. Dare I say I’m not waiting 19 more to find it again as this ragged heart has only so much dragging left in it. Definitely not another 19 years worth…

Look, I just wanted to write about a couple of women that I can’t get out of my heart, and probably shouldn’t. Loving them IS the only thing I can use to keep me warm night-night anyways… We had our time(s),.. and then we didn’t.

Love is not for the faint of heart,… Which must be why I was able to find it twice.

Goodnight…   ~Swiney

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

When You Can’t Find What You Already Lost….

This one’s just about a dream from last night,… it shouldn’t take up much time.

The dream had moved from one phase to the next, with only the bustle of people being around the remaining constant. Going in or out of any of those phases didn’t originally include us meeting up, but at some point it was apparent that we had taken separate routes to the same place only she didn’t make it on time. She was ‘sort of’ missing because some of the voices around me confirmed she had made it, even though now she was gone. Not gone, just not ‘there’… when she was supposed to be.

It didn’t seem possible or like it was going to happen, something swirled around that was laced with a little bit of dread, since that’s how things ended up in real life… But when you know that you’re dreaming you can have a second hand on the wheel so to speak and be a little more confident that you can find certain things, or hold on to an element of space until they can find you.

And then, there she was.

Nervous because she had been lost and was somewhat rattled like she could get at times…

There was plenty of composure inside, even though I moved as swiftly as possible to be next to her.. hold her lightly.

She was a bit apologetic for being late, but without saying it, said she knew we needed to see each other,… be together.

It warmed me like it always does, but with such a patient glow because having that second hand on the wheel allowed me to not lose control as I told her it was no biggy.

And that I loved her. For ever, and ever.

-T. von

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

The 275th Best Day of My Life

There’s no way this should really rank this high, all things considered; people I (STILL) love dearly gone, pushing so many limits of rock n roll partying for 25+ years, the porno exploits.. there’s a wealth of days that should push this one way down the totem-pole. But, my age at the time has a lot to do with it… getting ‘wins’ as a teenager definitely add MEGA style-points, and, that’s when this all went down…

In the mid-80’s there was nary a place I loved to be more than on the sand at Rose ave. Didn’t matter who rode the #2 w/me down to the sand, once we got there we were able to stop the world itself with our pursuits of barrels and sun and feeling like we lived in place that was as magical as any teenager could ever happen upon. A huge part of that magic WAS the era,… the 60’s & 70’s were gone, it was now like everyone was part of the party once you made it to the sand, regardless of age. The hippy-free sex vibe was out, the disco-cocaine vibe was out, now it was everyone is here to pursue this big stage of sun & ocean and being away from the city all together.

It’s hard to describe how amazing it was to tap into all of that as a teenager…

Soooo, on one of these summer vacation jaunts down to the sand w/my cronies, be it Rich Moritz, or Glen, or J. McGill, J. Saenz… it was mostly an uneventful day in the water as there wasn’t much of a swell happening, which was the status quo.. Anyhow, I was usually lucky to get to Rose ave. w/$5 bux to survive on for the day, minus bus fare that I had to scrape up myself ($1.00 round trip). The spot there at the corner of Rose ave. & the Boardwalk was called Carousel, and it was AMAZING for a 15 yr. old kid since they had pizza, roast beef sandwiches, soft-serve cones, you name it, they had awesome stuff to inhale after you had just been in the water for 2-4 hours…

So this particular, completely brazen day without a cloud in the sky, I rolled in there w/my $5 bux & decided I was going for a roast beef sandwich (small) and a small drink. The whopping total was $3.50, which meant I had a $1.50 for an ice cream later and bus fare home. I hand the cashier my five, & they give me back change for a ten… ~O_o~  HOLY HELL,… I just got $6.50 back on a $5.00 bill! FUCK YEAH!..

Now, I did hesitate for a second and consider being straight-up about it, but look…, my family was blue-collar poor and I was gonna take EVERY break that came my way, including this one. So I got the hell out of there and went to the sand to devour my sandwich WITH more cash to spare for later.. WOW, did I feel like a rockstar.. on the beach, soaking up every minute of summer vacation w/my bros, and here I just got PAID to eat a roast beef sandwich… amazing how easily satisfied I am (then & now) with the bounty of extra food & or beers. lol

There was still $6.50 to spend, which meant me buying 3 slices of pizza for me and (I think) Jim & Rich that day before we hit the wall on Rose ave. to wait for the bus back home. Which was it’s own stoke… I LOVED being able to share the wealth as they say… EVERYTHING was bro-code without even thinking about it back then, which just added to how golden the entire process of growing up in Venice was. It WAS a very unique place because of so many things colliding there culturally & socially that we all absorbed, or rebelled against as it always seemed cameras were on us everyday we were on the sand.

(not that they were, that was just the afterglow of 83-84 when music videos & the Olympics had heightened the overall exposure of Venice from the Pavilion to Rose ave.)

Sitting on that sand for hundreds of days as a teenager, soaking up everything we all could of Santa Monica bay, looking at the cliffs pull around to Malibu, or down South to the airport with the tankers docked outside of El Porto, it was all OURS… we were born into that, and it’s STILL in my blood as I’m sure it’s still in all of my childhood friends too.

Venice is more than just Venice Beach. As we were all from that dark heart that was sunk deep into the ground by the Lincoln blvd. border. The beach was the light for us, and for millions that also jaunted there either casually, or devotedly. But when that stretch of sand was yours, it had a separate majesty to it that to this day I’m so doggedly proud of. Sure, it’s nonsense to be proud of where one is from, but I’m never giving up on where my heart is…. It’s in Venice, Ca.

Even if I never see that sand with mine own eyes again.

-Swiney

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

You Heard It Here First…

I was trying to chop/edit scenes but had to walk away from it…. I’m in desperate need of updating my stores,..but when I can’t chop, I can’t chop. Sooo… I was thinking about (of all things) Wikipedia, and how some people have these like details and histories on their pages and realized that somehow I’d like that for my page too.. But how, just log in and throw up facts? I know it doesn’t actually work that way, even if it does, there’s more to it in regards to reference, etc..

So maybe Belligerent Purity will be what I need to ‘prove’ what I’d like to add to my page since it IS documented that this is my blog and my accounts/stories, etc. Won’t know until I put in the time right? Although, with the person I’ve become,..the total apathetic quitter/loser, putting in the time might be about as impossible as me getting any more chopping done tonite…

Where to start?… Well, maybe if I keep it boiler plate in approach, the details will take over and we’ll actually get somewhere tonight…

~

1998 was when I first appeared on sets for Mike, doing BTS/non-sex appearances, (Oral Consumption/The Gangbang Girl/ and a couple other sets I don’t recall the titles..) Nothing really materialized from those initial brushes w/porno, mostly because I was still too washed up. But a few years later I started doing my pool route again (by myself at this point) and it’s where I met a loser living in the guest house of one of my pool clients(Jon Nelson). That dude was named Andrew, and he eventually finagled some shooting gigs from these internet fags out of Arizona which led to the initial shoots for the Gangbang Squad website. The first time I held camera for those dudes was in late 02′, I think December, and we shot in Downtown at Julian St. Jacques’ place w/a blonde gal named Olivia. After the shoot Brian Sherwood had to follow my truck since his old beater/convertible (Oldsmobile?) had trouble with the headlights going in-out, which he did without any hitch.

The show in Vegas was around the corner, but I was in no financial shape to bail my pool route and party for a 3-4 days.. I mean, I COULD’VE asked Mike, and leaned on him financially, since I was getting ever closer to finally coming into the XXX fold (which he was REALLY hoping for), but I still didn’t feel ok w/schmoozing a trip to Vegas, especially not feeling like I was quite ‘in’ yet… so I sat that one out.. the 2003 AVN show should’ve been my 1st, but I passed,..

Looking back, not going to that show prolly set me back & really hampered my chances at ‘arriving’ a little sooner with the right people that would’ve given me a chance at coming in just before the curtain dropped on ownership deals, etc.. Because it’s no mystery that by the time I was up and swinging in XXX, it was too late for any of that… almost NO one got ownership past 2004 unless it was thru a deal at Evil Angel, which was never going to be an option for me no matter what…

~

2003 was good. REALLY good and then REALLY bad I should say. After everyone was back from the show ‘Handjob’ (Andrew) had confirmation that they were going to be shooting more, maybe even multiple sites at some point which was going to mean more scenes & more $$$. Now, lets be clear, Handjob was only paying me $100 per scene back then. And after like April/May, I think he doubled it to $200! WOW…. lol. In all seriousness, I was so poor at that time, those $100 & $200 days were keeping me alive as my pool route wasn’t bringing in but $1400-$1600 gross each month, and that didn’t count for ANYTHING; chems, gas, bills, my alcoholism.. It was ROUGH then…

But, this new shooting porno in between running pools was exciting and I was meeting lots of ridiculous characters on set and a nice batch of young, hot, and slutty chicks that were always naked and (usually) really easy to talk to. Now, I wasn’t fucking any of them, I was too focused on being the best/most competent guy on set as possible as there was a LOT of competition in the room when we shot. Even tho I was lead camera on our 2 camera shoots, Handjob was always trying to find someone to pair with/against me in hopes of always having options so that ALL people underneath him were easily & readily replacable, which was weird since all of this started off as such a ‘bro’-trust thing.

That lasted about 2 months, tops… This all went to Handjobs head so fast he didn’t even know who he was anymore by that summer,.. but whatevs, fuck that guy.

Ganbang Squad was killing it, so we got a second site, Teens For Cash, and I was tapped to handle that one by myself after just a couple shoots. Handjob was getting real busy w/bookings and all of the scheduling, etc., so he said to me specifically (in front of a few others) “Look, I’m so busy now all I want to do is know everyone’s here and ready to go so that I can leave and then come back when the scene’s done so I can write checks.”

No sweat…

He got what he wanted, only he didn’t realize that was giving me sway w/all of the performers since we were all in the trenches together making these scenes happen. We had a good crew/posse mentality going and Handjob soon became the outsider that no one wanted in the room and he HATED me for that. You see, it went from Gangbang Squad to Teens For Cash, to Backseat Bangers, to Boat Bangers, to MILF Seeker… we were shooting like 30 different sites it seemed w/me having a hand in shooting most all of them. He put me on salary halfway thru October as I sold my pool route and committed to $3000 a month (gross, again..lol) in return for shooting however many days he needed in a row. It was a terrible agreement, but I wanted the security & I figured if he was putting me on salary that he had me penned for the long haul as we kept moving up-up… And boy was I wrong about this cocksucker..

There was tension brewing, and I was taking a lot of onus on myself to run the crew which led to me and Handjob butting heads since I felt I didn’t need to listen to anything he had to say, and for the most part I didn’t. He brought NOTHING to the table creatively, all of the performers hated him, and he actually ASKED for this to happen, little to no involvement in the shooting, etc… So what was his fucking problem? Me,.. I was a strong personality and I wasn’t there to be bothered by him in ANY way with all of the days I was shooting consecutively, freestyling all of those reality/on street pickups, trouble shooting lame & busted chicks or woodless guys that appeared now-then,.. I felt I was running the entire shop single-handedly, and was, but Handjob was seething over the fact that the performers came to me for advice or what to do in a pinch over Handjob.. That KILLED him and his all-mighty check writing ability..

So, after some tension had built up, he and I had a talk on the Monday before Thanksgiving and I thought we had squashed everything, at least he made it sound like it was cool. But being the ultimate piece of shit that he is, he straight up lied to my face. I shot a scene that day and went by the poolhall to have a few beers, stopping by my Uncle’s place along the way to find out my Mom & Pops were in a substantial wreck in Fresno and that Moms was in real trouble. Moms didn’t make it, and died on her way to the hospital, so I notified Handjob that I’d be looking to call him Friday and see about shooting one of the two scenes we had booked… He said that was fine,… even tho he had already cut me loose.

On Friday he fired me. “It breaks my heart to do this to you man, but I gotta fire you. I talked to the guys and you just talked too much shit about me.”

I reminded him that we had worked all of this out on Monday, and that he was ‘cool’ with everything that was said/transpired… But he wasn’t. He was a big, jealous child who couldn’t share the spotlight, or handle an OUNCE of criticism for behaving like a juvenile half of the time whenever he didn’t need to. I know he has a lot of issues having being adopted and his only parent being a woman who was a police chief in Illinois. He learned authority from the top-down and somehow thought he was meant to dole it out the same way… Either way, he’s one of the few people I truly despise.

I could care less if he died in misery, true misery. He’s a liar at heart, untrusting and impudent unless it’s ALL going his way. That’s the only time he knows how to be halfway decent. Anyways, that was my exit from my first real stop in XXX, and I learned a few key things about myself there which I never forgot;

1.I was meant for XXX, the energy, the sex, the naked bodies, the extremeties and disposability of the people inside the machine.. that was me too. I didn’t need to get laid yet, I still had too much to prove, too much venom coursing thru me after Handjob discarded me that way.

2. I was waay more fucked up than anyone I had met up to that point, and that helped, because these Mopes and whores WERE fucked up too, and I gravitated to that energy. They just didn’t have the level of personal damage that I did, at least not that I could see.. but regardless, it was one big junkyard of bodies and bad decisions and endless beer guzzling,.. and that’s where I needed to be.

3. I was good in the room, I was good w/the entire process(of shooting scenes/making movies), and I knew that this was my VERY last chance to make it in this life. I was TOO angry from Mom’s funeral and the fallout that came with it (Pops’ side of the family flaking, etc.) to walk away from XXX. It was all or nothing, and I didn’t care if I ended up w/nothing, I had to try. The anger & the bad blood from the way all of that went down is the only thing that would keep me going during the following 10-12 months of scratching and clawing my way to the surface of the ranks of XXX/gonzo shooters and companies.

I had no idea where I was going, all I could do was hope that when Mike got back from shooting in Europe that he could open some doors for me with the people/companies he knew.. It was terrifying in some ways, but mostly because I was facing certain doom and going to lose any/all of my measly possessions I had left in my life post-Donna, and now post-Moms….

I guess I’ll let you know how all of that turned out in pt.2…

cheers, -Swiney

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Careers…

That’s the word you click when looking for jobs at casinos/hotels online. It’s clear that unless you have a line in, are over-qualified, or are some young body that they can beat to shit for entry level $$$, you have about a 5% of getting hired. That word ‘careers’ had me thinking about how if you want to work for yourself, you basically have to pay your way in… Some trades you can splinter off, and get your own thing going, but otherwise you gotta have that startup money to launch.

Pops got his chunk of money from his wrongful termination case back around 95′, and somehow found a route to buy out in the Valley, I think from asking/kicking around the pool store (Superior). Maybe he found it advertised in the Recycler?… Either way he went for it right as he was in his early 60’s, and was driving to-from the Westside every day learning that route and the trade day in-out like a real man, never really griping like most would about that drive alone. If I was have the worker he was…

There’s NO doubt my longest tenured ‘career’ is over,… there is just no way I can earn a living off of porno anymore. I’m not cut out for the post-production to keep up w/my site updates and tube page in order to keep the fans buying… It’s been 3 years now I’ve been working on this, and still have good traction all things considered, but I’m also burned out on the landscape and the performers. The ‘trade’ aspect of XXX is cool because there’s no check to cut, but there’s also no danger or level of intensity expected from anyone. Sure, sometimes the gals are great because they actually like sex & don’t care that I’m an old ghoul, but most of them (in the trade environ) are just there to put an ass up in the air, take some loads of cum in the face, and then wait for you to hand over the content…

What’s so bad about that? What’s missing? I’ll tell you,..

A release,.. a boxcover,… YOUR titles and pictures… Being part of the ocean that laps at the shores is different than being part of the still-water that fills a pond. You’re IN and running w/everyone at the highest level of something… Shooting your own content is really great for creating something of your own, which I have, and am very proud of,.. but you can only make so much of your own noise. Like a great bar-band that never made a record deal, never went anywhere. You can be the biggest urban legend out there, that’s fine, you’re still not Van Halen & never will be. They got the deal,.. and they RAN WILD w/it…

That’s what it was like shooting your own movies and competing w/everyone at the highest level, and that brought about it’s own inherent drive to keep it going. But alas, dying on the vine can happen to the best of them,… and in this sorry case, did.

So I’m back to figuring out everything, reinforcing myself, and realizing that a ‘career’ is something I’ll be VERY lucky to have again. I can hear my Pops’ voice now.. “Son, sometimes you just have to get up and go to work and worry about it getting better later on. And I know you can do that at least”

Well Pops, I used to,.. and am gonna have to again until another one of those ‘careers’ falls back in my lap….

Let us pray,..lol.

Goodnight, & godbless… ~T.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

30 of 31

You have something that keeps you happy? Someone? A goal or responsibility that keeps you believing,.. keeps the fire on. Even when you’re not happy,… miserable, you shake it off because you can. Something important is still in the well.

I haven’t had the flu in YEARS, & it’s kicking the shit outta me. But thankfully, the influenza is running cover for other parts of me that are even more sickly. I can’t recall a month where I had this much straight up fall apart, some of it my doing,.. 100%. Like that’s gonna make it any easier to swallow once the flu steps on out of my life once and for all.

There’s no help on the way, and never has been. It’s just survival instinct, which is it’s own cruel trap that I seen with mine eyes from the front row.

It’s just another tough month that I gotta get through one more time,… until the next one comes knocking.

-T.

This Is No Dream…..

When you live alone, you find yourself alone more often than not, not in the moment per se, but in actuality.. It’s when you find yourself there, that you wonder, or maybe realize what is or is not left for the rest of your life. Quite often I find myself in a place on non-existence, of no balance or weight. The alcohol never leads me there, but it does show me the way as contradictory as that may sound (or even be).

It doesn’t matter who I am or what I’m doing anymore… age has shown me SO clearly that we are here one day, and gone the next, so who fucking cares what is left behind once you/we/I finally become that next… We actually do NOT get to decide who we were or how we’ll be remembered once it’s over, and why should we care, because it will all be over. Coveting or remembering is for the living, and that’s a book I tend to write here every other post. The zero gravity of being alone just helps clarify (to me) that we don’t take anything w/us, and great or small, we only matter for a short span of time, if at all before it’s over….

What the hell am I saying here?.. Why this dreary, almost morbid post…?

The message is that mundane or not,.. alone or not,.. ‘important’ or not,… we all just get to live while we can, and there’s no shame in any of the above. It’s a-ok to have done absolutely nothing w/your life, or to have thrown it away in some unceremonious, insulting way to those under-privileged types that will never see a break go their way. So what,.. it’s your life,.. throw it the fuck away if you want.. Some over-achiever will eventually show up and erase your memory, trust me.

It’s a bit sad to feel the alone. When you actually feel it you feel how much you don’t matter, or don’t really exist, and that it’s not a big deal to go away once and for all. Because at some point, we’re all going away once and for all anyways…..

I know why I have to live (and be) alone so often, and feel the non-existence in heavy doses. Because I died a long time ago. I wouldn’t avoid or run from everything in sight if that weren’t the case….

These are just words of emptiness. Words of not reaching out or caring. Honest admissions of quitting and hiding. Terribly candid expressions of not knowing what’s left or who to be. It’s embarrassing, yes… even humiliating to some degree to be so ‘human’ in moments like this. But I hate dishonesty & don’t want to lie about still being lonely & miserable & weak all these years later….  ~T.von.

Dublin

When the heart is heavy, you look for ways to get away form it… away from your own heart because it’s driving you crazy since you know you’re in a place you can’t quell or solve. You’re at the precipice of a heartbreak,.. or maybe thrust back into one that never fully healed. Both will tear you apart equally…

Phil’s anniversary is just the extra weight on top of a personal crush that brought me here to put a few words down before I leave to drink & disappear into whatever toxins I have at arms length to get me into tomorrow. Phil Lynott helped me a thousand times or more get through some of the toughest crushes I’ll ever see, so out of respect I wanted to honor him w/a few words on this day he left back in 86, which happened to be my niece Erica’s 2nd birthday.

Thank you Philo,.. you were nothing short of pure gold.

~ T. von.

And at sea with flowing hair,

I’d think of Dublin.

Of Grafton street and Derby Square,

And for those of whom I really care, and you

In Dublin.

-P. Lynott

High n’ Dry…..

Could this be my last night on the couch? Seems like it, even though I don’t have hardly any of my furniture.. looks like I’ll be on the air-mattress til I can get back South and rustle up what I have in storage. As much as sleeping on this couch is brutal, I now have the muscle memory down and am kinda comfy filling the space here at my niece’s pad. Or maybe I should say filling the space here when no one’s around… BIG difference.

It’s been a while now(about 6 weeks), & I can tell the denizens want their old space back after I’ve totally commandeered the entire front part of the house & stomp around well into the wee hours EVERY night. But hey, that’s Uncle Swiney… what’d you think you were getting?.. lol

Even though I do my best to ‘see me’, there’s ever only going to be so much of that picture that I can. Try that sometime,.. it’s very helpful.. but you only get a partial glimpse whereas they see ALL of us head-toe, good & lame. Moving on and out of here in the next 12 hours or so, I’m EVER grateful to my niece, her fiancée, and my other niece for tolerating the overweight presence and ultra-soaked personality of T. von Swine under their roof w/out once asking me for a penny..

They’re my family, and I love them dearly.. this type of co-existing is something I’ve not done since the turn of the century when I was still living w/Mom & Pops after I lost Donna.. What’s that, 20 years almost? (yikes) Sure I’m tempered now and not drinking everything in sight, but I still kind of take over spaces I’m in without trying, which has been an important lesson I needed to learn/re-learn about myself.

You can know something, even about yourself, to a little or large degree, but until it’s applied in real time it’s still only theory per-se`. And here I’ve re-learned that fish tank theory I used to talk about from time-time in the older posts that were wiped out. You know, like that time you wanted an aquarium but wasn’t sure about the batch of fish you were buying to live together? Somewhere in between your Mollies, Angel Fish, Neons, Barbs, and Gourami’s you happened to have a Jack Dempsey wind up in the mix. After some time there’s fewer fish in the tank until you realize that the fish too big for the Dempsey to fit in his mouth make sure to stay out of his way because it’s now his space.

He’s not trying to be a dick, it’s just all he knows; to make the space his. No crime in that is there?

Lesson (re)learned; I need to be in my own tank. I need my own space or my elbows will eventually come up & then the friction starts. And the last thing I ever need is friction w/those I hold dear like my family.. So, thankfully I have a new place to move into tomorrow.. air mattress and all… lol.

Side note; somehow I ended up on the ‘High n Dry’ LP by Def Leppard today and can’t quite get off of it yet…. I’ve always been a little critical of this one since it’s SO flavored w/Angus & Malcom’s tones/riffs (IMO), which LARGELY is to due w/Mutt Lange producing it. Still, the more times I let it spin I’m finding some really great guitar work between Clark/Willis. Clark had a lot of darkness under the surface of his soulful playing, whilst Willis really helped drive those rhythms on their only true rock n roll album. Because I don’t give a damn what anyone on the planet says, these guys went into the arena metal phase for Pyromania…

Now why on earth am I schilling for this band/album at all? Well, I love honest rock n roll, and this LP has that. A lot of it. Unfortunately, they fired Willis and Clark eventually died from alcohol….which erased the main sources of what I liked about their/this material so much. Bummer…. But, that’s rock n roll…

This LP also helps me feel the early 80’s again which is nice since I hadn’t had my heart buried yet. The faces and times and places were all soaked in that golden California sunshine back then… regardless of being high or low. Or, High n Dry.

goodnight. ~Swiney

~RIP Steve Clark~

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Pithy The Fool……..

Not sure how easy it is for all of you to convince (or lie) to yourselves, but I can’t seem to do either. I know it’s apathy,.. it’s consumed me. So now even when I CAN tell myself something & acknowledge it, there’s only so much time I have to move forward w/it before it’s deflated and it’s back to levels of detachment that confound me to even try and describe/type about..

But, luckily, there’s an occasional moment or glimpse of truth I can find,.. even if that truth will only exist in and around my dominion, it’s still concrete enough to not be washed away by daily tides of apathy that wash in and out of my consciousness. If I can bind myself to this/these truths, I’m pretty sure I can gain a foothold internally to stem, or even temporarily shake off the apathetic episodes long enough to get in here and stay here until I get all of these writings/entries finished.

The truth is; what I say here doesn’t matter to anyone, only me. What I write here doesn’t have any real gravity, outside of mine. I need to free myself of worry or concern of those I’m going to anger or crush w/my admissions or judgments, because it is high-time I applied detachment (aka apathy) more directly and more often.

Big talk so far,…. Long shot that the foothold will take, but if it does, you’ll all have plenty to chew on again around here.

It’s one more process of getting over myself that can get me to where I need to be to open up again, and God-willing, deeper than ever before. Both darker & lighter,…. that’s important.

If I can keep telling (or lying) to myself that my words and my stories are just that, and that they exist, reasons or not non-withstanding, then I can let them exist free of worry because they need to. This page here is all mine…. It has no value. But if someday what I write here puts you or whoever might deserve it in tears, then that was necessary too. Even if only I say so.

Oh my,.. I’m (almost) getting pithy already….

Goodnight………………. ~ Swiney

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Axe Bite….

So,… earlier today I did something I can’t recall doing for at least 20 years, and that was playing in an actual hockey game before 5:00 pm. In fact, today’s game started at 9:00 a.m., so of course I was late and missed warm-ups which meant no stretching of any sort either. I knew I’d be sore afterwards, but didn’t imagine there’d be any problems w/me playing in my 4:40 p.m. tilt but,..

As I got moving around to have lunch, etc., a familiar sensation returned to the right side of my body, the feeling of someone burying an axe into my hip,..lol.

Well, not quite that bad, but the old injury (that DID feel that bad the first 72 hours) from May 3rd is definitely aggravated, shelving me from getting on the ice for our pending 4:40 faceoff.. I’m bummed mostly for my buddy Dave who paid for me to play in this weekend tourney, but even that is minimal since he’s skating w/a crew of guys that aren’t all that fun.. Now, in all fairness, I’ve only skated w/these dudes ONCE, but I can get a good drift of people I can and will gel with, and this crew…. is leaving a lot to be desired from the onset.

Which means, again, I’m not skating in the 4:40 p.m. tilt… The ‘axe bite’ is keeping me in the stands, baby… And I don’t really care… ~ Swiney

A Stupid Apology………..

Well,.. it’s more an apology for being entirely stupid. After having shelved this operation almost absolutely, or at the least for major spells of time, I completely forgot about the 80+ entries I had sitting in the trash folder potentially being lost for good if they dwelled there too long.

To which they did, and were.

That, is an unacceptable error on my behalf. Simply because of the documentation that was lost that will be impossible to recreate about people no longer with us and what their lives added to the world that far too few ever recant or share with the world any longer.

Forgive me, for being one of the most stubborn & most inane morons you will ever meet. Or not,.. that’s fine too, since I don’t see me forgiving myself anytime soon either.

~T.O.W.G.D. von Swine IVth.

What is, is What is….

Twenty years ago I was standing besides the grave that Donna had just been lowered into as people came by to throw dirt & pay the last of respects, when Anni, Mike’s mother, put her hand on my shoulder & said, “It gets easier”…

In twenty years I don’t know if much of anything has gotten easier, but that’s not anyone’s fault, and Anni still wasn’t wrong in her assurance. My trail of tears sure hasn’t stopped, but I am still here, and it is because I never forget something honest and heartfelt that’s said or given to me, like she did as I stood there over Donna’s coffin, my life in absolute ruin.

She meant well, and it did help, if even only today, exactly twenty years later to the day. Thank you Anni, and Mike, and Glen,… you were(are still) some of my sturdiest of crutches, and prove that only(mere) words can sometimes ground me, and remind me that what is, is what is, and tomorrow is just something I have to make it to no matter how crestfallen or despondent I may be on the inside.

We make it to tomorrow, until we can’t. When I can’t, it won’t matter if you don’t forgive me. Because what is, will be what is for you, and you’ll take that into tomorrow until…

The funeral is over, and the grave covered. For twenty years. ~