So: first porno was pornos. About fifteen minutes' worth. The cops threw me out before I knew what I was watching. But which one out of three? Does it matter? You'd think it wouldn't. But it does, in a way. I think.
This is what I know I saw:
EXT. THE VENUS THEATRE. NIGHT
A brick building. Her busted marquee. Purple curtains in the windows. Posters, too. A Hindu woman (40) stares from the booth. I approach, camera-right.
I give her the five, she tears off a ticket.
A small lobby dressed in pink drapes. A popcorn machine with a CLOSED sign taped to the counter. An older Hindu man (70) sits at a card table. In front of him, a shoebox. For the stubs.
He reaches out. I give him my ticket. He rips it in half, then points to a slit in the drapery. MAN
Static pops. Low groans. Some "oh" sounds. And some high-sucking "ahs." Snippets of dialogue. But they are so muffled, so scratched, the voices seem sexless, indistinguishable.
INDISTINGUISHABLE VOICE #1
Can you feel it?
INDISTINGUISHABLE VOICE #2
I step into the light. The silver light. Hundreds of seats. The backs of ten heads. Silhouetted. I adjust, though I'm slow to focus. I think: Silver makes the darkest shadows. I still can't see. But I end up front-and-centre. A mystery to me. To this day.