SILENT SHADOWS OF CINEMAROC

i was introduced to jack smith only this past summer. right, write, rite of passage. my intro came by way of beloved zac, who burnt me a copy of the very album i'm sharing here. down below, there is youboutoube's flash rendition of NORMAL LOVE. wch is both a delight & a shame. i hear every year or so the smith films revolve through anthology's righteous reels. luck would have me having seen the celluloid, wch is unparalleled.

strange, i've not written much in the last few days. i suppose the impulse to write comes & goes. maybe i'm posting here out of courtesy, duty, friendliness, & not for a burning, a flaming, to put words down on the splendor this splendor. but what more can one do but share this beauty (what a b what a b what a beauty) with the unseen, pasty virginal minds of the interested.

but. splendor it is. maybe too much for writing on. what does one say, after all, about normal love?

for now: some stuff. as promised.

normal love,
j.h c

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SILENT SHADOWS AT CINEMAROC ISLAND
56 Ludlow Street 1962-1964 Volume II

. ..when i look at myself in the mirror i scrrrRRReam with joy,
i am so bea-U-tiful.. .

get it HERE [rpdshre] or HERE [mdfre]

as far as i know, this album has not been posted online. of course, here just for sampling -- you ought find it on amazon for something like $20.

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NORMAL LOVE (1963)

also see FLAMING CREATURES and SCOTCH TAPE at UBUWEB

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NORMAL LOVE
by Jack Smith

Early that morning I could see that the day would be an ordeal. The Cretins were most excitable and openly masturbated, overstimulating the pinheads. Today they would put on their shepard and shepardess costumes and run across the fields with their sand pails to milk the cows. I rode shotgun on them in my floor length black leather jacket and needle-heeled opera hip boots made of wildebeest leather with the tufted tops.

I lingered over my toilette, admiring my enormous three foot long 9 inch thick cock; I posed before my glass, throwing my cock first over this shoulder, then the other. Finally, overstimulated, I fucked my tufted tops on my boots. However, I was unsatified so I lunged at my mirror my noble horsecock all tumescent. I smashed through the mirror and whirled about and stuffed my cock into the jagged hole and fucked and fucked. My cock got all bloody and torn up. Then, to get maximum sensation out of it I stomped my cock in my boots, flinging handfuls of meat tenderizing salts upon it.

Herding the freaks across the fields, a fly alighted upon my cheek and I became concupiscent again. I prodded a pretty young marshmallow cretin girl with my crop and made her sprawl on the ground. Her hoop skirt flung up exposing her dimpled pasties. In a second I was upon her nudging her between the buns with my lobolier. She squealed and rolled upon her back thrusting her pouting quim into my face. I whipped out my flaming organ. Her hoopskirt was up over her face and she couldn't see. I ran back a few paces, aimed my cock‑0 and charged her but my horse galloped in before me and impaled her on his raging rod. Slightly disappointed I charged my horse's asshole and jumping up I transfixed him in mid‑air as he was transfixing the cretin girl. My cock sank deliciously into his bowels, reaming them out straight and he reared and bolted causing me to spend even more deliciously. The little cretin shepardess was now ruined for normal love and she ran amok among the other freaks, inflaming them. Soon the whole hillside was one gigantic, seething, cretin, mongolian and pinhead orgy. Delighted, I ran to where my horse lay and snatched my elephant gun off the pack. I opened up on the churning carnival of freaky sex, firing point‑blank into its midst. Presently, I sank delirious to the ground, gasping and creaming and blazing away at the freaks.

God's plump buns rested serenely on the ziricorn & rhinestone throne & he frowned at us through his long gold beard. We were in heaven. He ordered us all to line up, turn around, drop our pants, and bend over. We meekly obeyed. God then walked up and down paddling us with a ping-pong paddle. He concentrated chiefly upon the plump pasties, I noticed. He began to emit giggles and rushed from pasty to pasty paddling shit out of them. The freaks became overstimulated and soon we were in the middle of a gang fuck which spread over all the heavens. Saints and cupids dicked each other with their wands, angels threw their legs open and the skies dripped come.

The End

(from The Floating Bear #28, 1963 -- then from blastitude's I Was Jack Smith's Love Zombie)

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also, why not skim the jacket'ed pasty novelty: an underground movie flipbook of Buzzards Over Bagdad

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