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Friday, January 27th, 2006
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3:27 pm - taken from a post on the insertcredit.com forums
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Again, yeah, with the "Japanese girls don't do porn against their will" statement. It's worth bringing it up again. Outside Ikebukuro Station, you'll see girls every day walking out to cross the street and go to McDonald's or whatever, and some guy おっすing them and whispering something. They put their heads down and scamper away appalled.
I once knew a girl who was quite mad when it came to being naked; her friend told me the porn scouts were always おっすing her, and she always said no. She had spoken of the very idea of being in one of those porns to be "slutty." She was, nonetheless, a fantastic and respectable girl when it came to her hobbies.
Some girls never get おっすed. The guys just know what vibes to pick up on.
Here's where having watched my Xbox 360 video feature comes into play -- a girl sitting in front of the Tsutaya record store in Shibuya got おっすed by a scout, and she didn't turn him away. Instead, she whipped out one of her two phones and gave him its number. She told him to call her later in the week.
So yeah, there's a degree of difference in the average girl who loves getting it on (with someone she's reached a mutual understanding with) and the girl who's willing to do it on camera. The girls are usually asked if its their first time, and they usually reply yes; the answer is, usually, yes. This accounts for the massive market of "no-name" porn.
Bizarrely, in Japan, the real porn stars are the men. And they're not like Ron Jeremy -- they're not grotesque caricatures of hybrid elephant and man. Oh no. They're real guys. It's just they all have their quirks.
See, Japanese porn is, for the most part, designed like a videogame. It's meant to have a certain kind of user feedback. See, they know that the viewer is jacking off. American porn never seems to have evolved into that. They seem ready to persist pretending that it's just "a movie with some sex in it." There's this "narrative" illusion. In order to create a piece of work that doesn't just appeal to "the prurient interest," American porn producers make the guy a copy-machine repairman, or a pizza delivery guy; they make the girl the boss in an office, or a bored housewife. In Japan, it's a guy and a girl. This makes it both less difficult to produce from the get-go and more difficult to find the right people. The scouts who find the girl need to be good judges of character. On a Japanese street, most of the time, all you get is a glance.
American porn tries to produce narrative. Yet the narratives are always winking facades, like a profile in Hustler telling you the naked woman with the dildo up her anus was born in Arkansas. In Japan, there is no winking facade. Only girls who have never done this before, being serviced by guys who do it all the time. When they sit down and talk to the girl for thirty minutes before penetration, when they ask her about her favorite movies and her sexual experience, they are not creating a winking narrative facade -- they are creating a real person. You get an idea of who this girl is. Very rarely do the scouts pick dumb clown-made-up Shibuya street-bimbos. They usually pick average girls who carry their curiosity like a chip on their shoulder. It's very subtle.
Yet you end up with one of these curious girls on screen, and at the hands of the right guy, you get something magnificent. My absolute favorite porn master is this guy named Tooru. He's maybe in his late forties. He looks like these girls' uncle. He's not an ugly guy -- he's well built. He's apparently got a hell of a rod, though I've never seen it. Of course, the girls never know who he is. Sometimes he tells them he's the cinematographer, and he needs to know some details about the girl's sexual preferences so he can more accurately capture it on camera. Sometimes the girls ham it up and try to be quirky or funny when they're on camera during a "porno shoot." What he does -- with the hidden camera thing -- is capture them without that. The thing is, he's alone. He's said before, in interviews, that he always films these things alone because it lets the girl be more real. It does! He employs scouts, obviously, to find the girls and make his organization (okay, actually, he's the president of an actual porno film company) look more "real." The girls wouldn't trust him just coming up to them alone. So he employs an off-camera recruiting facade.
Now, some men record personal pornography as a hobby, though I doubt more than one-one-hundred-thousandth of them have a hundredth the skill of this guy. I mean, he's good. The emotions he captures approach a level of actual drama. When he makes these girls scream like animals, it's evident that this is what pleasure sounds like. He turns every girl into a theater over the course of an hour. They look at the camera and say things, and it never seems fake or weird. It always seems like something someone in their right mind would say if they were having a damn-near-spiritual experience.
And there's not just him -- there are a few dozen guys who film porn in the same style. If you haven't seen any of it, that's your fault. You should probably be ashamed of yourself.
I get the impression that the only Japanese porn guys in the west tend to see is the really tacky, weird stuff. Sci-fi robots and stuff. The fake children's show where the model, dressed up as a little girl, starts getting viciously fucked by the guy in the bear suit. (I have that one on DVD. It's been in my suitcase for like two years.) That internet-famous clip of two naked Japanese girls throwing up in one another's mouths.
It's a shame, the kinds of things you people see, and think, this is the whole nation.
In closing, I first became acquainted with the wonders of above-mentioned porno guy through . . . well, through a girl. Nick Can and Drew and FFD met this girl -- she worked at a restaurant we all used to go to, back around two years ago. The girl was 20, a second-year student in college. She took a chance and spoke English to me, and got my email address, and started emailing me, one day.
Almost a year later, we had some wonderful sex in her mother's house when no one was home.
The second time we had sex, the girl asked me if she could show me something. She said, "I take it you're not the kind of guy to freak out about something like this."
She took a DVD out of bundle of sweaters tied up in a box in her closet. She put it into her PlayStation2 and forwarded through tracks.
And right before the camera, there she was, in her schoolgirl sailor suit. The conversation revealed she'd turned eighteen three months prior.
The man had given her 50,000 yen that day, as his scouts had promised her.
"He sends me a big box of chocolates on Valentine's Day," she said.
She let me keep a copy of the DVD -- she had maybe fifty of them.
"I masturbate sometimes while watching it," she told me.
I only ever did it with her once again. Then she stopped emailing me.
Holy shit. Now with my own home, for the first time in . . . ever, I was able to watch her one-hour segment all the way to the end. It was like watching a superplay video of a stage of a videogame I was able to beat with great ease. Yet the video revealed: "I . . . had no idea you could even do it that way." Like watching someone playing the first stage of Super Mario Bros. 3, only instead of walking to the right and advancing, he turns to the left, walks six spaces, and he's standing in the middle of a John Madden Football field. I thought, "I didn't even know any of that was there."
In the end, the first time I saw the end, I actually wept. Though maybe I had a different reason than a casual viewer.
ON A LIGHTER NOTE
Did you know that real snuff films disguised as fake snuff films are becoming more popular?
You can usually tell because they end with a title card that says "DON'T WORRY, SHE'S NOT REALLY DEAD -- OR IS SHE?!?!"
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| Wednesday, January 25th, 2006
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12:12 pm
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how many white guys on the internet have i seen over the years saying that japanese pornography is depressing and scary? answer: a lot!
i remember hearing some white dudes -- rich men -- talking over beer about how japanese women in pornography always seem like they're being hurt. they sound like they're crying. they're screaming! oh, it's so terrible!!
grow up, people. if you've never felt pleasure worth screaming over, you should just carry on masturbating with your eyes and ears closed. leave sensations to people with imaginations.
***
i had resolved to talk to that woman i mentioned in my last post after the new year started. however, since the new year started, she's been gone. today, she still isn't back. three weeks, and she's gone. i guess she's gone for good.
what the hell.
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| Thursday, December 22nd, 2005
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6:01 pm - i wish i knew her name
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My god. This woman's laugh. I love it. I want to have sex with her laugh.
Must make up some kind of context to go over to the neighboring section and talk to her.
This has been going on for like six weeks now.
"Yeah, these papers belong to -- you? Is this your name? Oh, no? Hey, want to get together sometime so I can fuck your laugh?"
Would that sound appropriate?
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| Wednesday, August 31st, 2005
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10:37 am - tokyo tower does korea
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so, where was i with this thing?
i've been having a lot of sex lately, all of a sudden, and it's kind of nice. i found a girl who can do it with an animal intensity, and i keep getting these really, really big, black bruises where typical kiss-marks should be. either she's got a hell of a grip, or my iron deficiency sucks more than i thought it did.
. . .
you know, what brought me to this journal at this exact juncture was . . . i don't know. i had something, and then i lost it. fucking hell!!
let's see, though -- yeah.
i had a really wicked erection the other day. during a dream about this girl i had sex with when i was seventeen, in the back room of the store where i worked.
she was russian.
it occurs to me every once in a while why men get erections while sleeping -- it's because it's nearly physically impossible to urinate with an erection. i mean, it just doesn't flow out. guess it's an anti-bedwetting mechanism.
that kind of stuff is interesting. one of those common courtesies of the human body that make perfect sense, yet are so . . . courteous that you wonder why evolution gives you this little perk.
you know what they call a morning erection in japanese? "Tokyo Tower."
yeah.
shit, i really wish i remembered what it was i had to say. hell.
oh, i remember what it was -- so i was in the sauna talking to these big russian dudes, and we were all naked. i'd always been, i suppose, animalistically homophobic about that sort of shit before. you know. when i use the public baths in tokyo, the dudes always look at my penis, and i let them. i just let it slide. i never look at theirs; i find it remarkable that japanese friends can live their whole lives, and go to the public baths together, and never come away with, you know . . . knowledge of the other dude's underwear size, if you know what i mean. anyway, they say asian dudes have little dongs; from what little i saw in the public baths (always take my glasses off), that guess seems about right. mine is a bit bigger than theirs.
yet i was in the sauna with these russians, and dreading a look at their willies. the thought gave me the . . . willies. i eventually got a look when a dude just spread his legs open. (in america we don't do this sort of thing.) he was a tall dude. i thought, shit, mine is bigger than his. and it was!!
i was impressed; so far, in this life, i've had nothing to compare with my own penis except, well, my hand, or a girl's hand, or a girl's head, or a girl's breasts. now i have sat next to a man and measured my wang against his with my eyes. i felt a little better about myself.
also, i bought these korean condoms that are coated in some kind of weak local anasthetic. like, to numb the sensation. all regular condoms are pretty much really expensive in japan, like around 300 yen each, so to get three special ones for three hundred yen is a big deal for me.
i don't know about the numbing shit, though. it just sounded wacky. my friend said they only have them in korea, though i kind of doubt that. i was also kind of surprised to see them at a regular old convenience store.
also, yeah -- as regards asian condoms: #3: if you see some guy on a web forum talking about how you should bring condoms from america because ones in japan are too small, he's lying and full of shit. condoms are made of rubber, and they stretch. if condoms break, it's because of vigorous fucking, not because your schlong is too long.
. . . how many penis words did i use in here without resorting to the obvious ones?
#4: i don't like the obvious slang words for penis. you know, all two of them.
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| Tuesday, November 9th, 2004
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3:21 pm - a workshop assignment
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(this journal will be updated, frequently, starting pretty damn soon. i have to complete a "personal goal" in order to allow myself to start writing in it. then, when it is live, it will be, well. you will see. it has a point, and a focus, and i hope that what i start to say in here might be kind of original and/or helpful to someone. i won't talk about it yet. i'll just say something small, and then ask a question.)
Every man finds himself in need, at some point, of a phrase to keep his penis limp. It's better if that phrase is less than three words, and best if none of those words is longer than two syllables.
#2: My phrase is "videogame journalism."
It unfortunately didn't work last night. Too many syllables, maybe.
What's yours? Discuss. Understand. Believe. Imagine.
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| Friday, July 2nd, 2004
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4:15 pm - i thought i had some greater significance to talk about when i talked about lobsters
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A friend of mine once told me that she didn't like sex. This was not puzzling to me. Human beings, as people, have things that they like and dislike. I, for example, don't like meat, so I don't eat it. I decided this at age fifteen. Ten years now, I've not eaten meat. My mother will tell you that I never ate pepperoni until I was seventeen; for the most part, she'll only say this because she wants to make my little brother look like less of a freak. See, he has grown to 190 centimeters in height and over 100 kilograms in weight by eating only bread, cheese, and breaded fried chicken filets. He won't eat a hamburger if he can see the meat through the bun. He'll close his eyes when he eats any hamburger, actually. That's just how he works. My mother said, when my little brother was still fifteen, that I, me, had never eaten pepperoni until I was fifteen. Her memory of my meat-eating history is mostly non-existant. She knows as much about my meat-life as she knows about my sex-life. I tell you here, the first of many confessions, that
#1 I quit meat ten years ago.
I quit it because I decided I didn't like it. Earlier that year, I'd started to refuse to eat bacon. Then went ham, and then went beef, and then chicken. Fish was never an issue. I never wanted fish to begin with. That's how much fuck fish.
A vegetarian once told me that was the stupidest reason he'd ever heard for not eating meat. His own personal reason for giving up meat was far nobler, by his standards: ate age six, he came to the realization that all meats were actually once living things that had now died. He didn't want to eat dead animals, so he quit meat.
Vegetarians wherever I go, I tell you, tell me that my reason for quitting meat is selfish, self-absorbed, and ignoble. I wonder if they know what ignoble means. I wonder if I know what ignoble means. They tell me, eating meat is something humans are built to do. We have both molars for grinding vegetables and canines for tearing flesh from bone because the good lord intended us to eat both vegetables and meat. In the end, it doesn't matter. I don't like meat, and my confessive recent friend doesn't like sex.
Is there something wrong with us two? The majority of vegetarians will have the world believe that they drop meat from their diet out of morals alone. I dropped it out of dislike. It was something I no longer wanted. I am accused, sometimes, of not eating meat because I like restricting myself. I don't know if this is true. Do I like the challenge? Do I like being a special case when I take a woman out on a date (and she pays, of course)? Do I like being a conversation topic in Japan? Or do I simply like vegan burritos in America? No matter where I go, for my vegetarianism, I'm considered an immature brat. Fine about that. Fuck you.
Now for sex. My friend says sex is dirty. It's boring. It feels guilty, like murdering an old woman in a park. The process of positioning one's self to receive sex is taxing. My friend seemed very shaky about admitting this, asking me what I think is wrong with this practice: human bodies have evolved into sexy shapes, with appropriately opposed genetalia, because sex is needed for multiplication. As a species that now communicates through language, art, and literature, we no longer exist merely to follow God's command in the Book of Genesis -- "Be fruitful, multiply, and fill the earth." It was our language, anyway, that raised people up to feel guilty and weird about sex, anyway. It was also our language that wrote that Bible. In the beginning, it gives us a command. Then it proceeds to make us feel guilty about obeying that command.
This friend, also, finds my reasons for becoming a vegetarian rather stupid. I explain that I find it hard to criticize someone for not liking sex. It's not very hard to explain. We count heterosexuals and homosexuals and mass-murderers and investment bankers as members of the same species. People grow up to look differently, act differently, and speak differently. We like our waffles different ways.
I wonder if this friend of mine feels as strongly about sex as I feel about lobster? Some women I know won't have sex with the light on, maybe because they don't want to face the bright reality of what our hairy genitalia look like when they're colliding. In the same way, I could never bring myself to eat a lobster. It's big, red, and shiny. And hell, it's a fucking giant insect. I mean, am I the only one to notice this? Sure, sure, it's not exactly an insect. It's kind of something different. Still -- look at the damned thing. You have to crack it open with metal tools. You have to suck the meat out of splinters of the exoskeleton. I find this the utmost limit of creepy.
My friend loves lobster. I, however, have no objections to busying my face in a woman's crotch for an hour if I think it's going to provide the slightest bit of entertainment.
So yeah -- different strokes for different . . . strokers. This is the beginning of my sex journal. Let's try to enjoy it, if possible. Let's enjoy it as human beings, not as dorks, or nerds, or losers, or whatever, though I'll certainly tackle topics from whatever angles come to me. Maybe we'll get an erotic fanfic club going, or something. Hell, I don't know.
. . .
That's all I've got for now. I thought I had some greater significance to talk about when I talked about lobsters. Maybe I did. It might be in there somewhere.
Later, then, boyos and girlos.
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