I think I mentioned it before, but I’m an ass man. I like asses. I like breasts, too, but they don’t have the same appeal for me like a nice bum (pictured) does.
When I was about twenty-one I had an interesting conversation with an older man about my indifference regarding breasts. ‘What are you supposed to do with them?’ I complained. ‘What the fuck are you talking about?’ he replied. ‘Well,’ I said, ‘they’re great to look at and I’m drawn to them like the proverbial moth, but when I finally get my hands on them… I don’t know what to do.’ My older, wiser friend looked at me funny and said, ‘you’re a fucking idiot’ and slapped my face. It’s ten years later and I still feel the same way: after you’ve squeezed them, rubbed them, put them in your mouth, put your engorged manhood between them, been admonished for accidentally biting them too hard, hand-weighed them like a haggler at a bazaar, lightly slapped them around, photographed them, had them bronzed and mounted on your wall, glazed them with vanilla frosting and covered them in sprinkles, pressed them into your eye sockets, padded at them with the soles of your feet, slumbered on them, written poetry about them, molded some wine glasses from them, named them (Lefty and Joe: I love you guys), after you’ve done all that, what are you supposed to with them?
Bums, on the other hand… I know exactly what to do with bums. – Jason Crombie
Film / Edit: Mike Piscitelli