"Palahniuk, Chuck - Stranger Than Fiction {True Stories} v4.0 com" - читать интересную книгу автора (Palahniuk Chuck)

Like a lawyer arguing a case in a courtroom, you become an advocate who wants the reader to accept the truth of your characterТs worldview. You want to give the reader a break from their own life. From their own life story.
This is how I create a character. I tend to give each character an education and a skill set that limits how they see the world. A house cleaner sees the world as an endless series of stains to remove. A fashion model sees the world as a series of rivals for public attention. A failed medical student sees nothing but the moles and twitches that might be the early signs of a terminal illness.
During this same period when I started writing, friends and I started a weekly tradition we called УGame Night.Ф Every Sunday evening weТd meet to play party games, like charades. Some nights weТd never start the game. All we needed was the excuse, and sometimes a structure, to be together. If I was stuck in my writing, looking for a new way to develop a theme, IТd do what IТd later call Уcrowd seeding.Ф IТd throw out a topic of conversation, maybe tell a quick funny story and prompt people to tell their own versions.
Writing Survivor, IТd bring up the topic of cleaning hints, and people would provide them for hours. For Choke, it was coded security announcements. For Diary, I told stories about what IТd found, or left, sealed inside the walls of houses IТd worked on. Hearing my handful of stories, my friends told theirs. And their guests told their stories. And within one evening, I had enough for a book.
In this way, even the lonely act of writing becomes an excuse to be around people. In turn, the people fuel the storytelling.
Alone. Together. Fact. Fiction. ItТs a cycle.
Comedy. Tragedy. Light. Dark. They define each other.
It works, but only if you donТt get stuck too long in any one place.





{Testy Festy}
A pretty blonde tilts her cowboy hat farther back on her head. This is so she can deep-throat a cowboy without her hat brim hitting him in the gut. This is on a stage, in a crowded bar. Both of them are naked and smeared with chocolate pudding and whipped cream. This they call the УCo-Ed Body Painting Contest.Ф The stage is red carpet. The lights, fluorescent. The crowd chants, УWe want head! We want head!Ф
The cowboy sprays whipped cream in the crack of the blondeТs ass and eats it out. The blonde masturbates him with a handful of chocolate pudding. Another couple take the stage and the man licks pudding out of the womanТs shaved pussy. A girl with a brown ponytail in a halter top sucks off a kid with an uncut dick.
This is while the crowd sings УYouТve Lost That Loving Feeling.Ф
As the girl leaves the stage, one of her girlfriends shouts, УYou sucked him, you little bitch!Ф
The crowd is packed in, smoking cigars, drinking Rainier Beer, drinking SchmidtТs and Miller, eating deep-fried bull gonads dipped in ranch dressing. You smell sweat, and when somebody farts, the chocolate pudding doesnТt look like pudding anymore.
This is the Rock Creek Lodge Testicle Festival just getting started.
This is some fifteen miles south of Missoula, Montana, where this same weekend drag queens from a dozen states meet to crown their Empress. This is why hundreds of Christians have come into town, to sit on street corners in lawn chairs and point at the drag queens strutting in miniskirts, and at the fifteen thousand leather bikers roaring through town on choppers. The Christians point and shout, УDemon! I can see you, demon! You are not hiding!Ф
For just this one weekend, the first weekend in September, Missoula is the center of the frigging universe.
At the Rock Creek Lodge, people climb the УStairway to Heaven,Ф the outdoor stage, all weekend to do, well . . . you name it.
A stoneТs throw to the east, trucks go by on Interstate 90, blowing their air horns as the girls onstage hook their legs over the railings and pump their shaved pussies in the air. Half a stoneТs throw to the west, the Burlington Northern freight trains slow to get a better look and blow their sirens.
УI built the stage with thirteen steps,Ф says festival founder Rod Jackson. УIt could always be a gallows.Ф
Except that itТs painted red, the stage looks like a gallows.
During the womenТs wet T-shirt contest, the stage surrounded by bikers and college kids and yuppies and truckers, skinny cowboys and rednecks, a blonde in clunky high heels hooks one leg over the stage railing and squats low on her other leg so the crowd can reach up and finger her.
The crowd chants, УBeaver! Beaver! Beaver!Ф
A blonde with short hair and a ring through her labia grabs the garden hose from the wet T-shirt organizer. She douches with the hose and squats at the edge of the stage, spraying the crowd.
Two brunettes suck each otherТs wet breasts and French kiss. Another woman leads a German shepherd up on stage. She leans back, pumping her hips as she holds the dogТs mouth between her legs.
A couple in buckskin costumes climb the stage and strip. They copulate in a lot of different positions while the crowd chants, УFuck her! Fuck her! Fuck her!Ф
A blond college girl balances with both feet up on the stage railing and slowly lowers her shaved pussy onto the smiling face of the contest organizer, Gary Уthe Hoser,Ф while the crowd sings УLondon Bridge Is Falling Down.Ф
In the souvenir shop, naked sunburned people stand in line to buy souvenir T-shirts ($11.95). Men in black Testicle Festival thongs ($5.95) buy hand-carved dildos called УMontana Wood PeckersФ ($15.00). On the outdoor stage, under the big Montana sun, with the traffic and trains honking, a wood pecker disappears into a nude woman.
The line of souvenir shoppers edges past a barrel full of walking sticks, each stick a yard long, leathery brown, and sticky to the touch. A good-sized woman waiting to buy a T-shirt says, УThose are dried bull dicks.Ф She says how you can get the penises from butcher shops or slaughterhouses, then stretch and dry them. You finish them like furniture, with a light sanding and many coats of varnish.
A naked man standing behind her in line, his whole body just as brown and leathery as the walking sticks, he asks if the woman has ever actually made one of the sticks.
The good-sized woman blushes and says, УHell no. IТm too embarrassed to ask the butcher for a bull dick . . .Ф
And the leathery man says, УA butcherТd probably think youТd use it on yourself.Ф
And everyone standing in line-the woman included-laughs and laughs.
Every time a woman squats on stage, a forest of arms comes up, each hand holding an orange disposable camera, and the click of shutters is thick as crickets.
A disposable camera costs $15.99 here.
During the УMenТs Bare Chest ContestФ the crowd chants УDick and balls! Dick and balls!Ф as the drunk bikers and cowboys and college kids from Montana State stand in line to strip on stage and swing their parts over the crowd. A Brad Pitt look-alike pumps his erection in the air. A woman reaches between his legs from behind and masturbates him until he turns suddenly, slapping her in the face with his hard-on.
The woman grabs hold and drags him off the stage.
The old men sit on logs, drinking beer and throwing rocks at the fiberglass porta-potties where the women pee. The men pee anywhere.
By now the parking lot is paved with crushed beer cans.
Inside the Rock Creek Lodge, women crawl under a life-sized statue of a bull, to kiss its scrotum for good luck.
On a dirt track running down one edge of the property, motorcycles race in a УBall BitingФ contest. Sitting on the back of each bike, a woman must snap her teeth on a hanging bull testicle and tear off a mouthful as her male driver races over the course.
Away from the main crowd, a trail of men leads back into the field of camp trailers and tents, where two women are getting dressed. The two describe themselves as Уjust a couple regular girls from White Fish, with regular jobs and everything.Ф
One says, УDid you hear that applause? We won. We definitely won.Ф
A drunk young guy says, УSo what do you win?Ф
And the girl says, УThereТs no prize or anything, but weТre the definite winners.Ф