[Whore Movies and Bug Sex (project:northside) / David Castleman]

http://projectnorthside.wordpress.com/

I was sure I’d be late, having gone to bed hardly 4 hours ago, completely hung-over, and driving all the way across town, into the heart of the north side of Jacksonville. I had never been there, and even with plenty of time my directional skills are barely above Helen Keller. However, I was the first to arrive at Rachelle’s place. We are college students after all, dragging us out of bed early on a Sunday might as well be asking a colorblind man to diffuse a bomb. But if there’s food involved, we’ll find a way. The smells of breakfast food cooking tempted my nostrils as the others found their way: First Sam, then Lenny, and finally Allison.

I couldn’t really call it breakfast; this was a meal that transcended such a concept. Perhaps a word adequate enough to describe the food had not yet been coined, and I would have to make one up. Sexfast. It’s like sex for your mouth—food sex. French toast and home fries and these little egg cup things I still can’t comprehend. And a fruit salad. Like a real fruit salad with tasty fruits, not weird shit that no one likes to eat but somehow still gets served at parties. It was a combination of flavors that beat the hell out of the Denny’s I had consumed the night before to quell my inebriation.

With my stomach full and my hangover subsiding (mostly), we all head out back to grab some fresh air and brainstorm our project. Perhaps I’m a bit twisted, but I become really excited about how cool it would be to shoot a Horror movie in Rachelle’s backyard. And we joke about how I can’t properly annunciate “horror” and it sounds like I want to make a “whore movie”. While both possibilities are equally entertaining, this yard had the makings of a horror classic. It had that comfortably creepy feel about it that the best movies know how to capture. In broad daylight among friends it felt safe, but imagine all alone in the dark, no-fucking-thank-you.

It reminded me very much of a movie I’d recently seen, “The Conjuring”. I admire James Wan for what he did with that movie, and Rachelle’s yard seemed to capture it somehow. There’s a huge tree front and center, with a large horizontal branch holding a tire swing. Sam bravely used the swing, meant for a small child, while I saw it as the tree the witch had hung herself from in the movie. To my right was a shed and an old broken down vehicle, much like the one in the movie. To my left was a tree house, and tree houses can be inherently creepy. The yard terminated in a small body of water and a dock, which could have been straight out of so many horror movies: “The Conjuring”, “Amityville Horror”, “Evil Dead”, “Cabin in the Woods”, “Friday the 13th”, I could go on and on, the point is docks are creepy. And she has dogs. Every scary movie needs dogs, even if James Wan would kill them off in the first twenty minutes.

Back inside Rachelle’s place, we relax, have conversation and admire Jennifer Aniston side-boob on the television. I love that woman.

Somehow it came up in conversation with Lenny that I had become somewhat of a bug voyeur. My Entomology class requires I capture and kill insects as part of a growing collection that I have to turn in for a grade, but in this conquest, I notice so many bugs getting it on. A few days before, I had spent about ten minutes watching this bee try and get his lady into the mood—she wasn’t having it. The much smaller male kept trying to climb onto her but she kept swatting him away, she couldn’t seem to make up her mind. At first she’d let him in close, get him all excited, and then all of a sudden it’s “No, not tonight, I have a headache.” I felt bad for the poor blue-balled bumble bee. As he made the walk of shame down the stem of the flower, I captured and killed them both without mercy.

I told Lenny about dragonfly sex, which is really fucking weird and I had also recently witnessed. The males don’t even use their “penis”, but rather transfer sperm to a secondary location on their abdomen where the female retrieves it. It’s a hard thing to picture, so I tell Lenny, “It’s basically like if you jerked off onto your stomach and your girl grinded her junk on you to get it.” It’s not exactly the same concept, but I think it got the point across. On a related note, I think I just invented “dragonfly style.”


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