Part One

Girl in a coat lying on her bed, N.Y.C. 1968

I started smoking quite young. Maybe ten years old? Ten or eleven? Eleven maybe. This bed, the mattress anyway, belonged to my Grandma, you know. She died in it. There’s a cigarette burn over there. Yeah, by the pillow. Another one, I think, next to your knee. Just...just lift your knee. And see those yellow patches? A lot of people think that she pissed all over herself when she was sick, you know, but (laughs)...but it’s, I don’t know, tea, I think. That painting fell down last week. I didn’t think much of it anyways, I just hung it there to cover the cracks in (laughs), in the wall, you know. (laughs) (lights a cigarette) You want one? (pause) Okay. (pause) Where do you want me to start?

Girl in a shiny dress, N.Y.C. 1967

Slow down. Just start from the beginning. Tell me what happened when you got there. What was his name? Did he do this to you? What was his name?

Lady at a masked ball with two roses on her dress, N.Y.C. 1968

When it all fell apart on us, I was pretty much a wreck most days of the week. Most days. Not all. Some days I’d sleep. Other days I’d drink, and then sleep. Some other days I’d drink and eat some bennies, then I’d touch myself in bed. I’d never come though. I’d usually fall asleep while I was doing it, or while I had my fingers in my mouth, while I was wetting them. There was nothing I could think about to make me wet. It was easier if I was crying. I’d just put three fingers inside and cry as hard as I could. Do you want to hear what I did to him? I can’t remember what I did to him. I can only remember the fingers.

Four people at a gallery opening, N.Y.C. 1969

When you present something in a gallery, it becomes art. This smile I have. This smile I haven’t. But it’s in a gallery, you see? You could hang yourself in a gallery. I’d like you to meet my wife, she’s standing by the buffet table.

Transvestite at her birthday party, N.Y.C. 1969

Well, our pimp put these balloons up for her. He can be pretty nice, I suppose. He treats us all pretty good. He bought her this dress, too. He bought it from a girl who used to work out of this building. I knew her a little bit. She never charged extra for when she let Johns fuck her in the ass, so she was real popular. But she’s gone now. She don’t live here no more. But our pimp knew her a little bit, so he bought her dress for, I don't remember...How much was it? I can’t remember. Birthday Girl here already had to suck two Johns already tonight in her new dress, didn’t you honey? But anyway...anyway, blow your candles out.

Part Two

Trixie on the cot, New York City 1979

Crimping iron and a white ribbon. Some cans of Miller. A magazine. A turntable. A cigarette. A strip of red cellophane over a lamp. This dress. These shoes. A blue ribbon, on her ankle. A pink ribbon, on her wrist. Something blue next to the wall, but I can’t make it out. Page 20. What does the paper smell like? Who is the girl in the green dress on page 21?

Suzanne in yellow hotel room, Hotel Seville, Merida, Mexico 1980

To Ogra,

These pictorial docum, end canvases and some pictures, have eliminated smaller friends. Many developing seconds, they are. Film has balance. Appears chemical green. Reproduce or insert two f-stops and repeat. For preview contact, steady the film. Water in the tank. Negatives developing into air bubbles. The three-legged photoflood needs only an eye. Millions inside the human body. Unlimited moving parts of machinery. Clues are sensitive in a way that photographs are celebrations. Distort the American photographer.

“Variety” booth, New York City 1983

It’s a true story. I swear to God, it’s fucking true. This fucking girl, she wasn’t...she wasn’t a girl. (laughs) Sorry...yeah, um, this fucking stripper was actually checking her watch. There were three of them in there together and it must have been, what, five o’clock in the morning? We were drunk. Really, really drunk. And this stripper just kept checking her fucking watch. (pause) No! (laughs, something falls from the table and smashes) (more laughter) That’s fine. No, honestly, don’t worry about it. Yeah, so, where was I? Yeah, she was old, man. She had these fat red pimples on her cunt (laughs) and she was fucking herself with this (laughs)...this purple thing. I don’t know what it was, man, but it was big. I’m telling you. And she was just looking at us, all crammed into this booth, and checking her fucking watch. We left after a few minutes and caught a taxi home. (pause) I can’t remember, she could’ve been crying. Yeah, yeah, maybe she was. But, anyway, we caught a taxi home and (pause)...where was I?

Part Three

Untitled Film Still, #56, 1980

Someone once compared him to a collapsed lung. He walked with a stoop, and he had terrible breath. But he didn’t deserve what I did to him. And he never screamed at me. He just walked out of the room without turning around. Stooped over and walking while I sat on the bed with my feet almost touching the floor. Now there’s only me, and I’m alone here and I’ve started to hear things.

Untitled Film Still, #4, 1977

I shouldn’t be here. I have no idea why I did this. This was such a mistake. I’m going to get dressed. This was such a mistake. You can turn that off now. Please, turn it off. I need to go. I have to go. I shouldn’t have let this happen. I don’t know what I was thinking. Please, I’m begging you, turn it off.

Untitled Film Still, #48, 1979

She was found a little further up the road. Yeah. You see that clearing in the trees? That’s where we found her suitcase. That tree with the branches snapped off...that’s where we found her panties. She must have run from here to the embankment, and then out onto the highway. We think that she stopped there and tried to flag down a passing motorist. That’s when he grabbed her and dragged her to the bottom of that hill over there. He posed her, after he finished. He glued one of her eyes shut.

Untitled, #86, 1981

Why can’t you just tell me what happened? What are you trying to hide?

Untitled, #129, 1983

And that’s really all there is to tell. I disappeared after that. Something was wrong inside me. Something had just gone wrong. I don’t know why. I just stopped smiling. I had forgotten how to smile. (pause) No, that’s enough. (pause) No. I don’t want to talk about this anymore. That’s it. The end.

Ap"er*ture (?; 135), n. [L. apertura, fr. aperire. See Aperient.]


The act of opening.



An opening; an open space; a gap, cleft, or chasm; a passage perforated; a hole; as, an aperture in a wall.

An aperture between the mountains.

The back aperture of the nostrils.

3. Opt.

The diameter of the exposed part of the object glass of a telescope or other optical instrument; as, a telescope of four-inch aperture.

The aperture of microscopes is often expressed in degrees, called also the angular aperture, which signifies the angular breadth of the pencil of light which the instrument transmits from the object or point viewed; as, a microscope of 100° aperture.

© Webster 1913.

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