Feature in Horror Sleaze Trash & A Portrait of Ben Smith

September 20, 2010 at 4:12 pm (Uncategorized)

So now I can say that even pornography venues are gettin down to The Deadheart Shelters! Well, Horror Sleaze Trash is actually a lot more than that, and it’s an honor to be among the fat list of oddities they’ve covered. My new book gets some shout-outs and has an excerpt of it hosted for anybody who hasn’t tried it yet. Also, the new Gasoline Monk release, “Computer Love (Monk House Mix),” cause you know these guys are just as down with the groove shit as I am.

I’ve also had to turn around and shed some light on the editor, Ben Smith, who is one of the interesting characters I met through Mike Daily. He’s from Australia, he’s a poet, and he runs a blog that mashes together all sorts of indecent things in a way that makes you feel both exhilerated and ashamed of yourself at the same time. He was with Alternative Reel when they ran the Daily-Armstrong-Daniels collaboration poem-beat-thing “On the House” and we got to talking about his past as a graffiti artist and his love of real hip hop, two things that put us in the same boat right off the bat.

I’ve asked some questions, because I think the deeper you dig into this guy’s web presence the more you wonder just who the fuck he is. So let’s find out…

How did you get linked up with the other dudes on Horror Sleaze Trash, and
what’s the biggest difference between the website and the blog?

Ironically HST started up as a Facebook page for me and all my local
buddies to poke the piss at each other with.  Tag each other in disturbing
images, cause domestic drama’s, that type of thing. I left Facebook for
personal reasons, but I didn’t want to loose HST. So I started the blog.
The Blog is basically an excuse for me to justify the time I spend on the
internet searching for porn and assorted oddity and phenomena.  HST has
always been well received on that front. The strangeness. Basically this
year I was sick of being rejected by most poetry sites for not “fitting
the criteria” and wanted to set up a base for the more twisted heads out
there.  I bought the domain and with the help of a computer tech down
under, we launched. I enlisted the French madman behind outlawpoetry.com
and a close friend of mine Ian Shearer
(http://www.bandwidthsessions.com/features/review/have-the-beer/) who is
one of the funniest mother fuckers around and now we are an un stoppable.
Before the end of this month is out, we are going to have a photo shoot
with a alternative model wearing HST gear in a new quarterly; The HST
Girls. Also an annual anthology press and I’m hoping a few smaller
projects we have in the mix can take off. Basically I wanted a place where
you didn’t have to deal with dicky critics and posers. A place where all
artist are represented fully and honestly.  I wanted contact. Not some
lazy editor dicking around and choosing what he thinks is tight.  I want
people to blow out their own brains. I want people to bar up and have a
wank over the shit we un leash.

Your aesthetic as a poet is interesting. “Horror sleaze trash” sums up
part of it, in a lot of ways, because it can touch on some of the most
grimey things,  almost like you’re putting dudes masterbating in front of
computers under a  microscope lens. But there’s something more sensitive
in it, more almost…  holy? and I don’t know if I could explain what the
fuck it is. Could you? Could  you say why you write what you write?

Haha shit man, I can’t tell you how happy it makes me to hear you ask that
question, that’s brilliant. It’s really funny you say holy, because I have
never thought my poems to be anything like that but it actually strangely
suits. I think I write the way I do because I’m so extremely embarrassed
by pretending to be a writer. I think it’s ridiculous. Like, what the fuck
makes me so special to try and be prophetic or deep. I criticize or
humiliate myself because then it puts me above being criticized or
humiliated.  I get in first.

I tell stories. Nothing I ever write is a lie. If I say I did it, it
happened. So then when I’m out and about, I think – if I do this, that
would make a cool poem. So I do it. Take my dick out in my car, steal
bollards from the side of a road, have lunch with a homeless dude.
Without sounding like a wanker – that’s poetry. Life is stupid. It’s a
stupid poem. The words are like a holding point, but they are not the
poems.  The poem is in the cats bowl.

There are defiantly beautiful things in the ugliness of honesty. It makes
me sick, but it’s true.

At my last reading a man who fell out of a tree and became permanently
brain damaged read not long after I sat down. He just let out a gutsy, low
bowel movement kinda sound in three short burst.  He is a deeper poet than
me, than all of us who stand around and shuffle our feet like movers and
shakers. The best poets are the ones that don’t know it.  I think God made
poetry as a celestial joke for the people who have to much ego, it was his
way of identifying them.  He has hot pokers to stick up our asses in
heaven.  He has a truly twisted sense of humor like that. In summary, I
write so god can frig me with a red hot poker in the afterlife. Maybe.

The same aesthetic is present in how you run your websites, a confused
mix of  odds and ends from contemporary culture than can range anywhere
from gnarly porno to surrealistic art to the avant-garde music of Can. I
always find  something that becomes my new favorite thing every time I go
onto your website,  like that Charles Manson answer to “what he’s all
about”… what the fuck?

Haha as I said brother, the best poets don’t know it. Charley first and
fore most. Dude killed maybe one person, at the very most, and he rides
along with the serial killer heavy weights.  Perception is more important
than truth. Delusion even more so.  Contemporary Culture is getting
trashier and dirtier every single generation.  People might have got
fucked by horses in the 1950’s, but no one knew about it. No way. Well,
maybe, but you couldn’t watch it on the internet. We have the worst
atrocities of mankind at our door, every morning, day in day out.  You
can’t pretend not to be effected by that. That’s inhumane.  So when
Charley gets asked “what are you all about” and he replies “nothing”, I
can relate. Completely.  You don’t have to be crazy to see that, right?

Porn is different, for me that’s personal – That whats truly Holy to me.
There is Holiness in that.. I cant really explain it, not without giving
away more than I need to. Porn is for myself, seriously.

Shit Forrest, you either sink or swim. I’m fucking drowning.

1 Comment

  1. Ben J Smith said,

    My mum is going to be so mad at me…

    Cheers Forrest, rock n roll brother.

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