Books by Astor Cerunnos

Living With Hookers - during the 2^nd Great Depression -

by Astor Cerunnos ©2012 Red Orchid / Bartok House. All rights reserved.

Chapters

View from the Y

Virginia

Laura

Kim

Three Plus One

Power, Sex and Death

Preaching a Heretic Gospel

The Puppetmaster

Blade of Dominion

Frenzy

The Death of Mr. Benjamin

By the Skin of Our Teeth

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Chapter One *View from the Y*

Most everyone pretends to know more than they actually know.

In our lifetimes the word ‘hooker’ is loaded with imagery as ancient as the Old Testament, with little Onan jacking-off in the sand, and as modern as High Definition TV, allowing 21^st Century teen boys to jack-off to larger-than-life erect nipples, able to see every pore and pubic hair of the naked girls.

Being too busy and too distracted to learn the truth, most people settle for generalities and stereotypes. Our lives are a stack of inaccurate hasty memos. Many of us care about the truth, but we have too much going on, and we go for quick summaries, and work from the quick summaries to form our opinions of other people and the details of our social, political and economic situations.

During the past four years I have slowed down, and now prefer to look at the world from an intimate vantage point. Whenever Virginia, Kim and Laura lay on my bed and spread their smooth thighs, I rest my eyes on moist vaginal folds. I view the entire world from the Y. I ask why. I ask why these beautiful women arrived in my home, and why they are comfortable here, and why men continue to fuck them for hundreds of dollars, week to week, month to month, year to year.

The simple answer is: My girls fulfill an endless need at an affordable price. The married men get a satisfaction they are not getting at home. The single men and the men with sexually inadequate girlfriends, get off and get on with there lives. Sex, without emotional complications is an important and valuable joy.

For the girls, the process is routine, a physically repetitive job, like pounding nails, with no significance beyond the cash. When Virginia leaves for a job she tells me, “I’m going to grab some money.” And for her that is the whole reason for being a hooker.

Fucking boys is the quickest and easiest way to acquire the cash she needs. Her needs include a heroin addiction, making the weekly requirement for cash much higher than it might be.

For Laura there is no current addiction, but she has two children and needs money to support them, to build a life for them. She hopes they will live with her again some day, and hopes they will not have to be hookers when they grow up.

For Kim, sex work is an embarrassment, but an acceptable way to make money, to pay the rent and go to school and take trips back to Vietnam. With no addictions and no children, she is looking for a future, and has no clear idea of what that future might be. She has not used her imagination fully to define that future. She simply does not know what she wants, and for now she flows like a river in a Zen sort of way, and takes the path of least resistance.

She does know this: Her personal life and the way she earns money are completely separate activities. There is nothing romantic about being lusted for and fondled by needy strangers,no matter how much money is involved. It’s an acting job.

For myself, I find money more and more difficult to acquire. Being over 50, the opportunities have become more and more limited. Fifteen years ago, when all other opportunities failed, I could always teach guitar lessons. I am an expert guitarist. But, now fewer parents are able to give the kids music lessons. The mortgage, the loans, the house and car insurance, the taxes, the groceries come first. I get no response to my Craigslist ads.

During the 2^nd Great Depression, I have discovered my extended family (the few relatives with money) are completely useless. Their personal greed and inaccurate worldviews do not allow them any moments of generosity toward me.  I asked my Mom: “What good is a family if you can’t count on them in a bind?”   My Mom agreed, her younger sister, and her son who owns a bank, are useless in that regard. My mother is embarrassed by the behavior of her family. She clearly remembers the 1^st Great Depression.

As a writer, I find I no longer have trouble thinking up things to write about.  My trouble is defining and articulating difficult ideas, ideas which berate a growing list of brutal and sadistic cultural assumptions.  How many centuries of lies have we accrued?

How do I tell my contemporaries (especially the 70 and 80 yr-olds) they have been living by lies and participated in the creation of a living hell on earth?   Nobody wants to hear that news!  I can’t say, “Hey you, respectable older gentleman with lots of money in the bank— Did you once in your life think about the results of the social and economic assumptions you had after WWII? Did you do anything to create a sustainable civilization, while your Greatest Generation was blowing through billions and billions of dollars?”

My elders might look regretful, and say they didn’t know things would turn out this way. Many senior citizens with satisfactory investments and bank accounts don’t even recognize there is a problem. For them our current Great Depression is a myth. Self-deception is never limited to any one generation.

These days I prefer to write about joyous things.  Pussy for example. Virginia’s pussy. Laura’s pussy. And most recently, Kim’s pussy. I have met a 24-year-old beauty from Vietnam.  She is a nude dancer, giving boys the most thrilling lap dances known to Mankind, while studying calculus at North Seattle Community College (true and verifiable.)  She tells me it is difficult to study calculus while her English is not so very good yet. But she works hard and gets A’s.  Later, she wants to study computer science. “It’s what Asians do, “ she smiles.

Kim tells me she misses the butterflies of Vietnam, some of the most beautiful in the world.  She’s been here six years, and goes back to visit her family every few years in Ho Chi Minh City.

After I enjoyed her expert professional work several times and said something about love, Kim declared, “Don’t think I will ever go out with you. That will never happen. Never. Never. Never.” I try to explain that that does not matter to me. Though I would like to be in her personal life, I can live without that. I have no illusions. We try to talk, but I often have trouble getting my messages through. So I wrote a love poem and translated it into Vietnamese:

When you are earning money

You do not know how you bring joy to my life.

You think I am a crazy old man

in love with a woman he can never have.

I am not crazy.

I am a lover of truth and beauty.

My hands ache to hold you

as my hands ache to hold my guitar.

My mouth aches for your mouth

as I ache for air and water.

My legs wake and walk to you

as if you were a jungle path

rising in the mountains.

You are a lotus in the heart of Buddha,

You are a crimson butterfly,

You taste like jasmine and papaya,

Your breath is like a whisper of bees wings,

Your hands surround my imagination.

My joy rises each morning radiant

like a bright sun of hope and warmth.

I come to you again and again.

You look at me puzzled,

and still think I am a crazy old man.

a biographical grimoire

of Clayton Roethke Finnegan

by Astor Cerunnos

Ө

All text and images, including cover image

©2012 Red Orchid / Bartok House. All rights reserved.

Chapter One. The Magus Reveals His Power

In his 56^th year on the Temporal Plane, Clayton Roethke Finnegan ate a peach while sitting by the swimming pool at the Marriott Hotel in Palm Springs, California. He leaned down to kiss the nude breasts of his young lover, Alyssa.

The hotel manager soon arrived and told Alyssa she needed to put her top back on, as this was a family establishment. In that moment, Magus Finnegan resolved to learn the truth about the occult influences on his own mind and body. Why was he placed in this position of social embarrassment? All he wanted to do was kiss a young girl’s erect nipples. Certainly there was no harm in that, even among devout Christians.

As a composer of music, the magus has personal experience with polite society, and understands that some prudish-types are offended by nudity, unless it’s by Michelangelo or Rodin. The tender nudity of God, and the flesh He Created is deemed less reverent than the stones and bronzes of human sculptors.

As a composer of music, the magus has had thirty years of experience channeling the inspiration of Higher Realms. The seeds of melodic and orchestral inspiration enter his mind through the intervention of Ascended Beings. Or so he is led to believe by many optimistic books of Theosophy. He truly does not know where his music ideas come from. He simply has the innate ability to open his mind, to calm his mind and make it susceptible to Divine Influences. By doing so, the magus has created four symphonies, a violin concerto, a cello concerto, seven strings quartets and a variety of other, joyful and substantial works.

When asked, the magus says he is artistically inspired by young, beautiful, nude women. But that is an evasion. He is made joyful by the beauty and sexual pleasures of women, but the musical ideas truly have nothing at all to do with women. He says they inspire him, to make the pretty girls feel good, and hopefully encourage them to retire joyfully and willinglyto his bedroom.

By personal experience, the magus knows joy is a vehicle for inspiration. The girls certainly bring him joy, and satisfy his sexual needs, thus helping to calm his mind for creative Divine Intervention. So he is not entirely lying to the young women. They help get him ready to write music.

Sometimes the creative ideas are not musical at all. At times his inspirations are visual or literary. He tied-up a few young girls up in his garage; let them dangle nude from the ceiling, and took photographs of them. He loves to take photographs of pretty nude girls. At times he will write novels and poems, using incidents from his romantic life as a realistic back-drop for tales of murder, horror or philosophical discourse.

His current two girl-friends are sisters, Alyssa and Anelle, nubile black girls, half Jamaican, half French, ages 22 and 26.

The magus has had them in his bed four times, both willing and playful, kissing him, as his happy cock burst cream in and around their warm, smooth, delicious bodies.

As we are all adults, allow me to be more specific: The magus loves to gush loads of semen on their bellies, breasts and fannies. He loves to hold their breasts in his strong hands, to suck erect nipples. From time to time he is full erect in their mouths and vaginae. He loves the look of their cute anuses, but he has never entered there, and really does not intend to. As he holds himself on the cusp of orgasm, the magus prefers to look into the eyes of his lovers, saying, “I love you, Alyssa!

I love you, Anelle!”

The three lay in bed together; the girls facing the magus. He shoots cream on Anelle’s belly, holding her breasts in one hand, and holding Alyssa’s breasts in his other hand. Anelle kisses his mouth with her full, warm mouth. Alyssa reaches over her sister to squeeze the magus’ balls as he comes.

The threesomes are delightful for everyone involved. When his Catholic and Mormon friends scowl at him, the magus says: “Any religion that would deny such physical joys is not much of a religion.” The Catholics and Mormons remain friends with the magus, only because they hope one day to save his Eternal Soul. The magus truly enjoys their company when they are not in-his-face about God and Moral Behavior. The magus is as stubborn about his beliefs as his friends are about their beliefs, but the magus has a much better sense of humor.

At the present time, the girls do not enjoy sex as much as the magus does, mostly because they earn money as hookers. For them sex feels irrelevant, on a varying scale from annoying to mildly enjoyable. They do love the old witch, but their minds and hearts wander, undisciplined. Their thoughts and emotions rarely focus beyond immediate needs: cash, heroin, trips to the casino; more cash, more heroin. Opiates appear to be the popular scourge of young people during these opening decades of 21^st Century America. The magus hopes to help his girls become more joyful; less self-destructive.

Magus Finnegan knows this: The purpose of his sexual fantasies, and the fulfillment of those fantasies with pretty young girls is the complete satisfaction of his sexual desires. As a good meal satisfies his body, so do pretty young girls. When his body is at peace, he is more likely to be receive Divine Inspiration. Denials, fasting, abstinence, all deliberate forms of self-torture do not aid his spiritual growth. Those practices impede his spiritual growth. Extended denials lead to desperation and psychotic behavior. The physical body is as important as the mind and the spirit; all three are essential to the health and balance, and the magick of an honorable magus.

Over-indulgence in sex, like over-indulgence in food or drink are well controlled by a mature mind. The magus indulges in worldly pleasures only as much as is necessary for his satisfaction. The goal is always satisfaction, not stupor.

Freed of nagging physical desires, the magus is full of psychic energy, his mind able to manipulate that energy, in short, he is ready for magick! By trial and error, the magus has come to understand the best, most helpful response to the Dark Forces is personal joy. Dark Forces make no progress when confronted with the personal joy of any mature being.

Personal joy gives the magus the strength and will to endure attacks by Dark Forces, and protect others from Dark Forces.

After a shocking experience, Magus Finnegan was sullen for six hours, his mind tossed by inner turmoil. The following morning he began to compose his 7^th String Quartet, “Joy in Darkness.” Joyful creation is often the best response to evil.

This is what happened: Pursuing his pleasure with a camera and nude girls, Magus Finnegan invited Kayla, the 24-year-old sister of Alyssa and Anelle, to his home and to his bedroom. He planned to snap images of Alyssa and Kayla, individually and together, in friendly, erotic and attractive poses. Alyssa had told him this was a bad idea.

“My sister is nuts, “ Alyssa said.