Archive for the ‘books’ Category


Holiday Spank Special: Buy Bitch & TUFF, the SPANK scent!

December 20, 2010

Need that last-minute gift for a friend? We got you covered, this week only order the limited edition Spank Scent Bitch&Tuff for Just $25.00!

Inspired by men after sex, jockstraps and steam rooms and brought to life by Cory Ingram the Bitch & TUFF scent is a special moment! With just 150 signed and numbered units available it’s a limited edition one-time-only don’t-miss part of Spank history that you will want to wear every day. In fact, it’s two scents that can be combined or work separately depending if you wanna feel the Bitch or play TUFF. Both have a spicy woody appeal and we smell hints of leather in TUFF and aromas of amber in Bitch.


Photograph by Marek Barry // Still life photos by David Bechtel


Tonight DENNIS AND THE BOYS: Part of THEM AND NOW at The New Museum

October 14, 2010

The New Museum and SPANK present DENNIS AND THE BOYS

Dennis Cooper, in collaboration with the New Museum and SPANK Magazine, has selected three young queer zine writers (Mark Edmund Doten, Robert Smith, and Max Steele) to join him Thursday October 14th for an evening of performative readings and provocations

Robert Smith has been published in SpankGanymedeMary Literary and Evergreen Review. He is the host of the monthly reading series Brother, My Lover in New York City.


Robert Smith 


photo by Nodeth Vang


i wake up from a dream. u were in it and dancing really badly on stage. i was taking pictures of you. it was a huge camera with a bunch of bulbs and attachments that i didn’t know how to operate. they were almost growing out of my head like antenaas and the pictures were polaroids. they were shooting out in front of me and sliding across the floor. i am winona ryder in beetle juice taking pictures of ghosts, except im taking pictures of you. i pick one of them up and it’s still white like it hasn’t developed. i shake it around and look at it again. it’s still white but i realize it’s a close up of ure pale skin filling the frame. i wake up hating your body…

i wake up and have to go to the hospital.

i take off my shoes. empty my pockets. go thru a metal detector. they give me a new pair of socks and i sign a piece of paper that gives them permission to keep me in lock down if they want. i have a seat next to the other patients. there are two older patients in there already. they are both black and bickering with each other. an overweight woman with unpicked hair and a man with wild eyes and no teeth.

“u do NOT fuck with me motherfucker! the last person who fucked with me left in a body bag.  i’m NOT tryin’ to git up in the penitentiary again.  I done did 8 yrs already!” says the woman.

the man with no teeth gets up and walks back and forth like he needs to calm down or somethin’s gonna happen. like if this woman don’t quit bitchin’ he’s gonna do something he regrets.

the security guard tells them to shut up.

a girl my age comes in the door. they ask her to take off her jewelry and she loses it. she says it’s not gonna go down like that.

she says this is not her status.  She says she just came here cos she needs to refill her medicine.  she ain’t been to sleep in three days and this is buggin’ her out.

the older couple’s getting worked up; trying to console her, but the girl is just getting more hysterical. i motion for her to come sit next to me. as if in a trance she does. she’s a pretty girl.

“i got a baby, man”, she tells me. “at home, and i gotta get outta here…”

“it’s ok. im here to get refills too. just take off your gold. or they’re gonna keep you.”

she bows her head and slips off her chain…

“this aint my status…” she says.

i’m starting to get a  little nervous so i look in the two way mirror at my reflection and straighten the part in my hair. i pull a dead piece of skin off my lip. i sit up straight, uncross my legs, uncurl my toes.

when the doctor comes to get me i follow her into a room down the hall and into her office.  When she sits behind her desk she seems to be having a hard time organizing whatever paper work she has on me.

then finally: “wanna tell me why ure here?”

“I’m tryin’ to make sure i’m able to get my medicine without walking thru metal detectors”, I tell her

“no. u wanna tell me why u were referred here by the ER?”

she doesn’t even look at me. she’s flipping thru papers.

i point to them.

“i mean, what do my records say?”

she looks up at me without lifting her head.

“so far?  nothing.”


Thursday October 14th DENNIS AND THE BOYS @ The New Museum

October 13, 2010

The New Museum and SPANK present DENNIS AND THE BOYS

Dennis Cooper, in collaboration with the New Museum and SPANK Magazine, has selected three young queer zine writers (Mark Edmund Doten, Robert Smith, and Max Steele) to join him Thursday October 14th for an evening of performative readings and provocations

Mark Edmund Doten is the managing editor of Soho Press. His writing has appeared in Conjunctions, The Collagist, Guernica, and The Believer.

Mark Edmund Doten


Headlights of parked cars saw Laura Cheeks flushed Singing Turning circles Peach schnapps And OJ Those gravel pits Those dry hot nights

Asked her to the dance no she was going with The boy who Died

Midland girls MY MIDLAND

AND this pain in my throat

Last night saw her crying Lights off Blanket to chin Face to wall That pretense So I knew

I should stop cutting with My knife These words But I’m choking on my Snack

Brought her the memorial Card from the funeral She didn’t dare Show her face either this’ll Bring us together Or destroy us The whole town destroyed Or brought together She said To be more perfect than We were

She taped postcards In phonebooks The flags The graves And those children Somewhere Staring Somewhere DARK HANDS big eyes just staring

Me a child of guns On the ranch hunting Quail also Turkeys Wild and domestic

Brought her flowers And little animals of Pine cones On pipe cleaner Legs

i should stop cutting into the floor but these words i need to get down before i black out again SORRY the floor so sorry

O Laura There is a goodness in This world

cut DOWN AND into the trachea

Those days I drank so much when Mom called me To breakfast I’d hear her Voice at school the crack of skillet on burner looping in my skull and tape hiss

OFF TO WAR AT LAST torch Creosote bushes Stake desert With kite string And yardsticks burn oldest Clonal colony then in balloon brigades On rolling green Enemy encampments drop charges while Men below guide Us with kite string

She cut pictures From library books And pasted them

The pain Gets so bad For fifteen minutes at a time I Forget

I’m Choking On my snack

she drove me To the clinic we Drank Jack From cups She said That’s it

And saved me

Cut into the Trachea I can’t Cut into myself not my own trachea i Just can’t

and I keep Blacking out

keep blacking out it’s giving Me a headache

i feel beneath my cheek the gouges in cold wood floor force myself up elbows look down see WHAT MY HANd’S DONE grip the knife

She saved me From the drink I saved her From the boy The one who died She was drinking But only For him I was drinking For me

midland my midland a Vertical incision a Drinking straw

drinking straw from my beverage from my snack

fifteen minutes at a time

I Hear her coming Down the stairs

I think i’m blacking out

Find notes


again Love Save me

[a different version of this story appeared in Exquisite Corpse]


Thursday October 14th DENNIS AND THE BOYS @ The New Museum

October 12, 2010

The New Museum and SPANK present DENNIS AND THE BOYS

Dennis Cooper, in collaboration with the New Museum and SPANK Magazine, has selected three young queer zine writers (Mark Edmund Doten, Robert Smith, and Max Steele) to join him Thursday October 14th for an evening of performative readings and provocations

Max Steele is a performer and writer. He has presented work at the New Museum, Rapture Café, Deitch Projects, Envoy Enterprises, PPOW Gallery, and the Queens Museum of Art. He writes the psychedelic porno poetry zine Scorcher, is a contributor to East Village Boys and Birdsong, plays Becky on the Logo sitcom “Jeffery and Cole Casserole”, and is a go-go boy at NYC’s queer punk party QxBxRx.


Max Steele

Photo by Stuart Sanford


Chatroom puts the computer between us and complains about the distance as he fingers the keyboard. He comes to see me go-go dance at the punk show and is too shy to say much. Chatroom only wants to talk to me online. He sends me dirty emails he thinks he’s being real tough.

He watches me dance and then writes about it for some blog or something. He reviews me like for a fanzine. You can have Billy, too, if you send $3 and an envelope and some stamps to this po box. Or you know, we could trade.

(How we get things, always).

Sends me dirty descriptions of myself. Chatroom thinks that I must be vain he thinks that I like to hear him describe me to myself.

Easier than that, I don’t need to hear anyone talk about me it’s like the weather I don’t believe in it. I just like picturing Chatroom writing out these dirty teenager fantasies with his angry hard-on. Getting off gets me off. I’m a modern girl, fucking on the internet just confirms our own circuitry.

Chatroom describes what he’s going to do to me. In his imagination he’s going to make me moan and scream and will bury my head in the pillow, dominate me make me weep or something. I invite him over for a date.

He’s shy, he shows up early to our date with bottles of wine and clove cigarettes and it’s raining but he’s wearing a big leather jacket.

He wants to talk to me about punk records and goth records and books that mean girls read on the bus. He is very cool and he wants me to know it. I make him drink the bottles of wine and smoke the clove cigarettes in my kitchen standing up, while we talk about the apocalypse with my room mate P the Witch. P rolls his own cigarettes and we talk about killing the world.

Chatroom is nervous I know he wants to kiss me but is too shy. He would write out pages of nasty things to do to me but now he’s sipping wine and listening and not looking me in the eye when he describes his pets twin guinea pigs.

P and I make Chatroom smoke a joint with us mostly so I won’t be so nervous. Romance freaks me out. Getting off gets me off and nervousness makes me nervous. The secret of me is that I do whatever it is you’re doing, too. The word for this is seduction.

Chatroom says “You act tough but I have to keep reminding myself that you’re just as scared as I am”.

But I’m not scared. That’s the point. Nothing scares me especially Chatroom and his big punk rock dick.

I’m jerking him off and he’s whining. He wants me to get up and change the record to the other side. His dick is dripping precum, it’s like he’s drooling. Thinking a lot about appetites. Chatroom kisses the small of my back. The paramour.

Putting on romance, pulling it out the zipper of his bondage pants untucking it from the spiked leather jacket boots getting bigger and blacker by the second. He wants to be exactly like a fantasy make me prove that his imagination is real his hunch was right or something I know that every sexy dream and porno movie is a fiction and underneath it we’re naked already.


Spank Issue 15: SMELLS LIKE The Two-Year Aniversary Issue

January 10, 2010

Get Issue 15 of SPANK here now –our Two -Year Anniversary Special Edition. It’s truly already one of our favorite issues with a beautiful cover and photo story shot for Spank in four different cities by the young and talented Luke Gilford, a sexy plushie boy spread by Rob Roth, men bathed in projected blood by artist Jordan Eagles, and armpits and feet by Richard Weaver. Plus writing by Robert Smith, Paul Ohan, Chadwick Mooreand Miles Patrick.  Also available at St. Mark’s Books and Opening Ceremony.


Spank Presents >Oh Snap< All-Polaroid Art Show Tuesday Aug 18 at Envoy!

August 18, 2009


Spank Zine Presents

>Oh Snap<

Tuesday August 18th 6-8pm
After Party to follow 8-10pm Envoy Enterprises
131 Chrystie ST NYC 10002

Hosted by Genre

Inspired by the termination of the production of mass market Polaroid film, >Oh Snap< is a one day art show of Polaroids curated by Spank zine at Envoy Enterprises Tuesday August 18th.

>Oh Snap< unravels the legacy of queer Polaroid from perverse to personal with work by:
Billy Erb
Jayson Keeling
Del Marquis
Eric McNatt
Julia Page
Lou Peralta
Jeffrey Ralston
Jason Rodgers
Nodeth Vang
Michael Wakefield

Photo: Tiger Tyson 1998 by Jayson Keeling

After party after party to follow at Home Sweet Home (8-10pm)
with DJ
Eugene Tambourine (SOLID!/Metropolitan)


O.T.K Discipline…Woa!

July 11, 2009

O.T.K Discipline delivered exactly on its promise. There was art all over everything, and I mean everything.  From the paddles and tee shirts, to the large scale drawings, sculptures, video, and even a fort…yes a fort. It was killer!
Check the pics, lots of fun, and great performances. As always Gio Black Peter tore it up, and this time with local NYC artist Brian Kenny on the mic. Their collaborative paddles were amazing, total collectors item with a purpose.