Pomp Confessions: Sleeping Over

In ‘97, I was eleven, living in Toronto when what should have been just another sleep over at my best friend Hiram’s house turned into a nightmare. It started out typically enough with us stealing gulps of his parents’ lousy vodka and salty wine, sneaking out to the basketball court across the street to smoke some shitty pot, watching French-Canadian pornography until 2AM.

The television screen softly flickered writhing ladies: undulating breasts, pussy eating left and right. I could feel my jeans shrinking against my erection. Excited and little boy buzzed from the booze and pot I blurted, “Oh wow look at that one!”
“Shhh, you’ll wake my parents up” Hiram scolded.
Hiram was silent but out of the corner of my left eye I noticed him staring at me. At thirteen, he was two years older and my initiator in all things I then considered cool: skateboarding, smoking, and kissing girls.
“What do you think about when you jack off?” Hiram asked, rubbing his crotch, eyes darting from the television screen to me, gleaming with sexual tension that scared me.
“Pamela Anderson in ‘Barbed Wire’ I said. “Or Mrs. Tam our 3rd grade teacher.”
We both laughed and he stopped touching his dick. I was relieved but confused. He was my best friend, so I tried not to make too much of his gaze.

At 3AM we went upstairs to sleep. I slept on a futon, near the door on his floor while he fell heavily onto his bed. I woke to Hiram straddling my back. I could feel his pubescent pecker on my pajama bottoms. I tried to get up but he placed his hand on the small of my back and forced me down.
“What the hell are you doing?” I yelled.
“It’ll feel good,” he said.
I thrashed and twisted, smashing him in the balls and shoving him into the closet.
“What man? It’ll feel good, it’ll feel good,” was all he muttered.
Hiram’s mother poked her head in the door
“What’s going on here Hiram? Are you two fighting?” she asked
“No, mom we were just wrestling sorry.”
“Is this true Nicholas?’
Hiram looked at me in fear.
“Yes, sorry,”
“Well quiet down or there’ll be trouble,” she warned.

We went back to our beds and I lay there in the dark until morning. I was frightened sharing a room with someone I had trusted, now a stranger. I anxiously waited for my mom to pick me up.

Things weren’t the same between Hiram and I back in the sixth grade. We never talked about That Night, but it was in the underlining of all our conversations. The closeness we had shared as friends was replaced by unspoken aggression. Despite our sleep over, Hiram will always be the coolest of my childhood friends, the guide who showed me how to shoplift from the Don Mills mall.

-N.P. Milanoff

Behind The Big Top

Jacob Freund is currently working on his second tour with Ringling Brothers’ Barnum and Bailey Circus. Jake works exclusively in the men's wardrobe, where at any given time there could be a dozen men from a dozen countries quick changing. My mind wanders to what tasty tidbits Jake might "accidently" see, before I am reminded there is professionalism, and naked doesn't necessarily equal sex. "Wardrobe Rules" in four different languages, are drilled into performers.





I got the inside scoop on Jake's life in the circus, the challenges of the road, and what he really thinks about animal right’s protesters.

If you could reroute the train to any destination where would you go?

I would love to take the train through my hometown. We travel through so many small towns, and the tracks run right through. I want to stand on the vestibule, smile and wave as I pass through Freeport, ME. I also love Canada.

How much ass have you gotten through your travels? Any of it because of your circus connections?

I don't kiss and tell but the circus connection and the rainbow connection go hand in hand.

What's the hardest part about living on the train?

The room is 5 feet wide and 7 feet long with an 8 foot ceiling. It's about 35 square feet. I'm 6 feet tall. If I forget to close a cabinet door and stand up too fast... The flipside is that I can reach almost everything I need from bed.

What's the most interesting circus trivia you've learned since joining the company?

Our train is over a mile long and houses elephants, horses, 200 of the cast and crew and all the wagons for the show. Our top speed is about 60 mph but it can take us a lot longer than you'd expect to get from A to B.

Which animals do you try to avoid at all costs?

I steer clear of all the animals, all the time. The handlers don't like people getting too close to the animals because it can spook them. The last thing you want is a pack of spooked zebras or elephants backstage.

What do you have to say to all those protesters?

I wish the protesters the best. They have a hard job. Standing out there, holding signs. But I think they should educate themselves, instead of listening to propaganda being fed to them.

Any circus scandals you're willing to share?

There are too many! I will say, it's never a dull day at the circus. There is always something going on.

If you could be part of any of the acts which one?

I want to be an elephant rider. It looks like so much fun up there.

If you were a clown what would your name be?

I would never be a clown. If through some freak accident, I wound up as a clown I think my name might be something like Slappy.

What's your favorite circus catchphrase?

"Not in the Wardrobe!"

-Corinne Kassor
Photos of Jake: Esteban Aladro
Wardrobe Shots: Anthony Viera

Lonely In New York

-Lee Brozgol

Download

Oh Shit, The Queen Bee Brings Cyber Sex Back!

Lil Kim Download Featuring Charlie Wilson & T - Pain Music Video

Bring It Back!

Sex saturated, but naive twelve year-olds, my friends and I cybered. Not with each other. Seventh grade the next year ushered in wet dreams, phone sex, my shrink mom's birthday present to me What's Happening To My Body? Book for Boys. But before I gawked at female flesh, I giggled over HotGirl69 from a Christian Sex chatroom (half the hidden turn on: I was Jewish). My sixth grade Lower East Side crew would munch Two Boots pizza as we typed depravity. Our cybering was always funny first, I never let on I was secretly aroused. We cybered with women and men, at the end of steamy sex sessions always spilling secrets instead of semen. "i am actually old enuff 2 b ur lil bro lol" or "dude i don't hav pamela andersson size tits, u just fucked a 45 yrs old man" then signing off. We laughed off our cyber sessions as funny, harmless jokes, not exploring an adult world of intimacy we barely understood. At twenty three, part of me still prefers the anonymity of internet climaxes, if not the cheesy come ons.

Cyber Sex. Bring it back?

-Royal

Pomp Cabaret

This year’s PEN World Voices Cabaret was packed with award winning novelists, slam poet champions, rock icons, and some of the most attractive actors around.



The celebrity performance of the evening was a one-act adaptation of Jonathan Franzen’s New York chapter in State by State: A Panoramic Portrait of America. The protagonist is Jonathan Franzen, played by James Franco.



Midwestern lad romanced by NYC in the ‘70s, Franzen/Franco returns in hopes of interviewing a personification of the state, played with seductive haughtiness by Patricia Clarkson. However, before he can reach his lost love, Franzen is intercepted by Manhattan’s publicist Parker Posey. With an obnoxious sense of entitlement, PR flack tells Franzen the rules—he mustn’t mention New York’s dirty decades: “'65 to '85.” Finally reuniting with his beloved state, he finds she has long forgotten his existence.



Despite the actors reading off scripts, every member of the ensemble was remarkable at capturing nostalgia, sarcasm and humor. The performance truly lived up to the hype of its cast. Plus no complaints about sitting feet away from James Franco’s gorgeous smile.

My most anticipated couple of the evening, Lou Reed and his wife Laurie Anderson, took the stage to thunderous applause. I was unprepared for the magnitude of trip that occurs when their forces combine. I felt like I was on a spaceship, watching Earth destroy itself.



Laurie Anderson began the set speaking into a voice synthesizer making her sound like a man-robot. “How do we begin again? What are days for?” she asked, as the theater filled with disorienting electronics, shadowed by Reed’s guitar. True to form, Anderson’s lyrics were thought provoking and disturbing, eerily blending with the backdrop cacophony.

Lou Reed sang for two songs, his dead pan evoking raw emotion “a younger man, getting older … I hold a mirror to my face.”



Many audience members fled for exits. I stayed to the end, mesmerized by two of my heroes.

Leaving Florence Gould Hall, passing Parker Posey in the street, I felt like I was coming down from an acid trip on a UFO (Lou and Laurie’s, most likely).

-Hannah Miet

Racy Recession Realty

My roommate and I have been apartment hunting ever since someone slashed my tires in Park Slope. After five years in the Slope, I can no longer stand entitled parents and co-op fights.

My radically progressive agnostic mother is from Ukraine, so I felt at home in Greenpoint. But my dad's New York Jew culture drew me back to Brighton Beach.

In need of professional help, I stumbled into a real estate agency and let a male broker show me around, since it was free. Boris was tall, brooding and Polish, looking like he could beat me if he wanted, though he was probably more of a lover. We chatted about his job and why he moved from Poland.

We started talking about heritage, I blabbed to Boris my mother was from Eastern Europe, I felt comfortable in Greenpoint, my old best friend, who was Polish and lived there had moved to Brazil to marry her boyfriend.
“Why all good Eastern Europe women want foreigner?” Boris asked.
“My mother told me to never date a Slavic man. She said they are alcoholics who beat their wives,” I teased.
“Alisa, look at me, do I look like? Maybe you should try and then tell me,” he winked.
“Would you date a Jewish girl?” I countered.
“No too different,” he replied.
I was so ashamed, I played the Catholic card, talking about the church I went to as a child for Easter.
“How do you pray?” he asked me, “right or left?”
I tried to remember, but my mother had refused to teach me.

Boris lectured me about two types of Catholics. I knew he was trying me on. We'd shared a weird sexual tension in one apartment. He was my type: handsome and foreign.
He teased me about dating an Orthodox guy, I told him the outcome, the Yids refusal to marry me.
“Poland is best!” he proclaimed.
“I'd like to visit, but is it okay I'm half-Jewish?”
“You are not Jew, that is all,” he said, assuring me I had a chance at his heart.

I thought about sharing sulky meals with a bigoted broker in a fancy Brooklyn abode.
He called me recently about an apartment, but I let him go, “Boris, I think I am going to try it alone.”

-A. Pinsker