My Smiling Face 2


Posted by NL on September 02, 20012 at 14:16:46:

My Smiling Face-- 2

Fuck yeah, man! A SNUFF FILM! I've been making them in my mind for years so what I should do is make them for real, and maybe not even for profit, but just to recover costs and share with others with similar tastes and interests. What a noble thing to do. Now, if my Tauride or Perseid enhanced brain still worked as well it used to, I could set up a scenario, wish real hard, and just stand by with my cellphone (1.3 megapixels for still pics but not so hot on vids, but good enough, I think) and be ready to capture the action. But to a certain extent, doing it like that, you don't have total artistic control. I have to deal with what is there, and then enhance but only within limits. For instance, if a see a hot coed working part-time in a convenience store, I could probably get someone to rob the place and put one or more bullets into her body, wherever I chose-- boobs, belly, brain, but I could not organize a firing squad. I mean, how would that work-- get people to set up execution posts in a public park, tie scantily clad women to them and kill them in various ways? Ohhh, yes, I'd like to see that. Arrows, knives, bullets, strangulation, maybe have a scaffold and hang them naked so their titties wobble and bounce while they are dieing and then pan up and down and back and forth across the lovely dead bodies, from every angle and front and back-- back to capture the curves of dead butts of course. But that's too involved. You could say that meatball doesn't work like that, if you can appreciate the allusion here. Maybe I could have my killer take that clerk and herd her into a backroom or storage area and scare her into stripping naked before he kills her, but I've got to be present with my cell or camcorder and there is serious danger that I would get shot myself. The more I thought about it, the more I ran into problems with logistics. I studied logistics once when I had a thing for warehouses and shipping shit from here to there. Strange what a fellow gets interested in!

I've given thought to the kinds of things I'd like to see in the films I'd like to make. I've got a bunch of old nudist movies on dvd. A nudist colony would be a nice place to do a snuff film, especially if a lot of the guys were into sex death and necrophilia. I'd dig a kind of festival of death, celebrating the sexual side of death, where women are ready and willing to be killed and used sexually and get excited by the whole scene and turned on by the thought of the men getting turned on by their erotic deaths. I've always kind of envisioned arrows and knives used for these festivals, with some strangling and hangings thrown in for variety. It sure would take a lot of money and time and trouble to do a film like that. Goddamn logistics! You remember Ed Wood don't you? It's a shame the guy didn't get into snuff films. He came kind of close in some stuff. Orgy of the Dead would have been great with a snuff film slant. But old Ed is long dead. “Ed's dead.” That's a classic line, isn't it?

Snuff films have been made, of course. I think some were made inadvertently at various times in various wars. You've got to wonder whether someone with a gift like mine but with a longer attention span might not have arranged those things. I recall a still pic of some big-titted nude on her back, staring into space with not a visible wound anywhere. But she was dead and sexy. I figured maybe she got it in the back of her head, in her brain, with a small-caliber handgun. Such things happen, you know. Maybe she got stitched with several shots in her back and none of the bullets went through her. This was on TV, if you can imagine that. What were they thinking? Somebody had to know that at least some viewers, like me, would get turned-on. Oh well.

It seemed to me, after thinking about the whole issue of creating the drive-in movie of my dreams, that I would first have to greatly augment my resources. I'm not just talking about money here. Oh, no-- I'm talking about MIND CONTROL and MIND POWER, and the art of MANIFESTING what you want. Would it take another meteor storm? Who knew? I couldn't even understand what happened to me the first time. Let me tell you about some stuff I did when it was all fresh and new, back in m college days. There was this woman I knew by the name of Shirley. She was a friend of a friend and she was a live-in girlfriend. Sometimes Bud and I went over to JD's rented house to shoot the shit with him and drink some of his beer and ogle his girl. Shirley had a nice body and she was very friendly and sexy. I remember a time when she wore short shorts and a halter top and it was almost too much to endure. Those shorts weren't like they are now, cut low to expose the belly button. But one thing I found touching about her was that she had a kind of high belly button. You could see it above those shorts, a wonderful target, I thought. And her titties were firm and perky-- more wonderful targets! I thought real hard about things that could happen to her when she was home alone, as she sometimes was: juicy things. Every time I had a chance to peek into the bedroom I imagined her bound and gagged on that bed, naked, with her legs spread, and a certain special knife from their kitchen poking out of her belly. I imagined her eyes open and the bed soaked with blood. I couldn't tell Bud about my dream. I kept my dream to myself. But a time came when Bud called me and told me what happened to Shirley. It was much as I had imagined except the cause of death was strangulation. She had an icepick stuck in her belly button, and her titties had been poked numerous times, but those were merely torture wounds. When it came time to kill her, she was strangled with her bra. Very hot. Problem was I did not see it. I could not see it except in my mind and the reality only added piquancy to fantasies I'd had many times. But I had no doubt that I had somehow brought about that confluence, just as somehow I'd brought about that sniper round finding that other girl's brain at poolside years earlier. By they way, they never caught either one of those killers. Or any of the others.