31 Ejaculations: No. 8

If kissing was like sailing on a silken sea, this was like burning rubber in the Indy 500.

Published June 12, 2000 7:02PM (EDT)

It could've been something more romantic -- windowpane, mushrooms, even "Strawberry Fields" -- but it wasn't. It was some run-of-the-mill, ugly purple stuff that looked like a miniature lump of Play-Doh. "Purple barrels." But it was acid, all right. And it worked. Just taking the shit was like going up the big hill on the roller coaster. Clickety-clack, up we go! Once we go over the top, who knows? Over the top and down the rabbit hole, past the point of no return. Anything was possible. You could fly. You could lose your mind. You could enter another dimension. The adrenaline hit the system and the mouth went dry and the knees buckled and down you fell.

B. and I spent so much time hanging around, waiting for the LSD to lock onto our neural receptors, we forgot to fuck. But not completely. We kind of sailed off the edge of the universe, dropped down into Wonderland and then started to kiss. That felt good. It felt like a dream kiss, like instead of something prefatory, we were in the thing itself -- the kissing. That was all we had to do, forever. This mouth, I had never tasted anything so good. So amazing. If the Grand Canyon were made of wet rock candy, it wouldn't be this good. So we kissed, for what seemed like years. My arms and legs were foreign countries. Colors. Trails. Anything more specific than "I am in a room, on a bed, kissing" was an impossible thought.

But then she must have touched me. Or we got the amazing idea: "Let's take our clothes off!" What an exciting, revolutionary concept! So we did that. Now skin was touching skin. If kissing was like sailing on a silken sea, this was like burning rubber in the Indy 500. Sparkles and sparks ran over every trippy square inch of dermic geography. And even though I had no idea where my prick was, where she was, where my mind was, I was/am consumed in this nuclear bomb of color and orgasm. Yes, orgasm, every stroke is an orgasm. And now I'm coming. Overhead the fireworks are blossoming and beside me rides the entire regiment. We're on horses charging down into the valley. GERONIMO!!!

Read on to No. 9

By Eric Bogosian

Eric Bogosian's new book is "Operation Nemesis: The Assassination Plot that Avenged the Armenian Genocide" (Little Brown). He is best known as a playwright, novelist and actor. He wrote and starred in the play, "Talk Radio" (NYSF - 1987; on Broadway starring Liev Schreiber- 2007), for which he was nominated for a Pulitzer Prize and the Tony award. For his film adaptation of the play, Bogosian received the Berlin Film Festival "Silver Bear." His six solo performances Off-Broadway between 1980 and 2000, (including "Drinking in America", "Sex, Drugs, Rock & Roll" and "Wake Up and Smell the Coffee") received three Obie awards. In addition to "Talk Radio", Bogosian has written a number of full-length plays including "subUrbia" (LCT, Second Stage, also adapted to film), "Griller" (Goodman), "Red Angel" (Williamstown Theater Festival), "Humpty Dumpty" (The McCarter), 1+1 (New York Stage and Film). He is also the author of three novels, "Mall", "Wasted Beauty" and "Perforated Heart" and a novella, "Notes from Underground." He is a Guggenheim fellow.

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