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                                                     "Real Life Battles Against Death"                             "Occupy This!"
“On The Coroner”

As humans, our obsession with death is insurmountable. Every aspect of death, from birth even, to the
point that everything we: do, say, watch, work with, eat, or have sex with, has something to do with
death, or dying. I can’t say that I am not among the living, and do not obsess myself, with the likes of
the reaper’s scythe. In a day, I just might do a number of things that have to do with dying or death.
First thing I do when I get out of bed is make coffee, and Bam! We are all about death from the gate!
“Coffee will kill you”, oh don’t forget about the hundreds of pickers, plantation workers, and such that
are killed every year around the world, for our #1 commodity. It is among the first things we encounter
in the morning, I mean besides the cat, and the bad breath of “good morning”, which is attached to a
whole another issue concerning death. Whilst waiting for the coffee to do its thing, I usually take time
to sit on the john and negotiate the release of the chocolate hostages. This reminds me of death as I
know so many of my relatives that have died from Colon cancer, and as I check my email on my phone,
while I sit, I see that there have been some sales, or there is a reply to a thread, or a customer
stopping in to say hello, or ask how long it will be before their custom is ready. More death! Death
fetish, Dead skirts, Femme fatalities..okok, Snap into your day, not out of it!

O.K., so now my day progresses to the Newspaper. I read the Wall Street Journal. It is the only paper
that is not coated with the cheese sauce that is news drama. It is full of death though, believe it or not,
with plenty to go around. Usually it is the death of some CEO that deserved to die young anyway simply
because he fucked so many people over it wore down his heart, or he drank his liver to death. Ok, I
am done with this paper for now. Time to get on the 75 Bus that runs by my house and to the
Hollywood district of NE Portland, where my office and sanctuary of death lies. When I step on the bus I
see death in its latter stages, but in fact before the actual occurrence. I see tweakers, toothless and
tattered, making faces of death, and coming closer to being in the ground. I also see a young gang
member who probably won’t make it to 21, statistically, well at least one of his homies, maybe not just
him. The way guns have been clapping in the hood lately; I see it being a slim chance. The mentally
handicapped couple is slapping each other, hard, in the face, in the back of the bus, without any
intervention, or mediation. They are probably headed down to The Blanchet House for a free meal,
then to the community outreach center to find some meds so they don’t flip out and cause others, and
themselves injury, or death. Ok ding, it’s my stop. Time to get off the bus and try not to get killed
crossing the street because people in Oregon (besides me) can’t drive worth a crap. O.K., almost to
my office and guess what, the girl/heroin addict spare changing (spanging) on the corner as I cross
begs me for anything that could help her eat. What she is hungry for is a dime bag of food that is way
cheaper hunger fix than any type of nutritional food. Too bad the next hit might just be the one to kill
her. I step into the office and turn on the computer, as it warms up I administer my medication, through
a glass pipe, feeling better as I exhale, and again better after the second draw. Of course it helps with
the pain, and nausea, but at the same time could kill me with its long term carcinogenic properties,
and all around bad reputation with the conservatives. I think that I would be better off without those
conservatives, but then again, they probably buy my films.

Ok, so I am at my computer editing what? Yes! Death fetish films, and wow, I must say the excitement
abounds with every frame. Wait, there is something different about what I am doing, something that
doesn’t associate itself with the morbidity of actual death, or the processes that have a disgusting
façade, like cancer, drug addiction, or farmers that are being killed over a coffee bean plant, or
bananas, or even diamonds. It is a difference that I love to portray in my attitude, and films, in fact that
there is a lovely side of buying the farm, or kicking the bucket in many ways. The eroticism of female
fantasy death erotica cannot be compared to anything that is related to plague, or plight. It stands
alone in it’s glory and beauty, from every manipulated photo of Kelli, to the longest Chris’ Corner
video. The difference is uncanny.
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Comment from: Nastassja
Date: November 10, 2011

You know Chris, this was fascinating! You really have a talent for writing. This had a
Kerouac/Kesey/Beat Savant feel to it, with stream of consciousness blending into
philosophical musings, dark mixed with funny, and right there in the patter, insight.
I found the premise was fascinating too. I have wondered how the death fetishists here
(and I am becoming more of one every day) balance their sexy fantasies with the real
world, and you gave me a slice of perception with this glimpse into your mind. "It
stands alone in its glory and beauty..."
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Comment from: Kelli
Date: November 14, 2011

Glory and beauty....what a wonderful way to describe fantasy death!

~k~

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Comment from: Astrokill
Date: November 14, 2011

To me, I think that in my erotic horror stories, I'm trying to stave off realistic death.  
The news, and of course, in my personal experience, death can be sudden and brutal,
or slow and painful.  My fetish is really catered to softening death's blow.  And yes, it
manifested in a whole bunch of bad girl demises. : )

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Comment from: Othello
Date: November 14, 2011

Yes, glorious and beautiful! I really do think that transforming sex and death into art is,
in its way, a validation of life. After all, it brings us to a state of passion, and there is
nothing that more embodies the energy and pleasure of life than that.


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Comment from:  Chris B.
Date: November 23, 2011

Thanks so much everyone. I attended college for writing, but I never finished, due to
financial issues. I love to write, and it is funny you mention one of my good friends Ken
Kesey, who dosed me with acid back in the early 90's, and took care of me for hours
afterwards in the Further bus with The Merry Pranksters. he and Ken Babbs were
close to me throughout most of the nineties, as i worked for the Oregon Country Fair. I
have always been a fan of Kesey, even before I met him, with "Sometimes A Great
Notion" being one of my most favorite stories of all time, and in the ranks of, "Where
The Red Fern Grows", and "The Adventures Of Tom Sawyer", which seem to be on the
top of my list of fiction writings.

Thanks so much for all the kind words, and as the leaves fall from the trees, reminding
us of our dormant tendencies, in this season of storm and tranquility, the gallows still
hold firm and await the next spring of life to swing, and hopefully leaves your wife
twitching with the pull of a string.
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Comment from: Moon Shiner
Date: February 15, 2012

Death is the ultimate solution, we're all born terminal.  We just have to do the best we
can, while we are here.

I often wondered, if any of this time is real, or could it be just the dream of one night,
one night, one dream equal one life.  Our average 75 years is just a nano second in the
time line, could that entire collective event, be just a nano second in a higher level?

I believe your point of view, depends on where you are standing, to many death is the
end to suffering, to others the end of happiness, to all of us, it is  guaranteed!

I like your point that everything is in some way, death, except your films, a fact that we
all know is fantasy.

Interesting prospective.
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