Last night after being fed many shots I did not ask for, and in fact asked NOT for, I was taken to the Clermont Lounge, which is known in Atlanta as "where strippers go to die." The Clermont is an unairconditioned basement to a seedy motel, known mostly for its stripper Blondie, a heavyset black woman who wears a blonde wig and crushes beercans with her large flaccid tits.
This stripclub operates more closely like a circus than a place of sexual inspiration.
After almost getting into an altercation with the female bartender, who I offended with my drunken speech, my funny friend paid another stripper, not Blondie, but also aggressive and black, to give me my first lap dance. It was strange. If I'd been sober, I would have run out most likely.
The woman took me aside and showed me her ass. She fondled my genitals through my pants several times. My friends kind of left us alone, which was also disconcerting. I was too drunk to be concerned or scared. At one point the music went out so it was just a room where this woman was rubbing her tits on my face and asking me questions about myself. She told me I would remember her vagina for the rest of my life, and then she showed it to me.
Her bellybutton looked like a little shriveled Caucasian baby.
In other news, there's a new update of elimae out, with lots of cool stuff in it, including some really excellent work by Mike Young, William Walsh, Daniel Bailey, Minna Lincoln, Michael Hemmingson, Matthew Savoca, and Bryan Coffelt.
Bryan Coffelt should here on be known as the guy who brought Wu Tang to elimae.
elimae is doing good stuff these days.
Also, in the new issue of Harper's, there's a short section of a work-in-progress by David Foster Wallace called 'The Compliance Branch.' It is very short and about a man who doesn't like the looks of his coworker's baby. I enjoyed it very much. It makes me excited for a new novel, whenever that might happen, as this has been referred to as part of a larger 'brick.'
Here's a section from the piece that I liked which describes the baby:
The infant's face, as I experienced it, was mostly eyes and lower lip, its nose a mere pinch, its forehead milky and domed, its pale red hair wispy, no eyebrows or lashes or even eyelids I could see. I never saw it blink. Its features seemed suggestions only. It had roughly as much face as a whale does. I did not like it at all.
I can still see that woman's vagina.