Give Me a Gun

On the set, they give me a gun, and then film me shooting men.  I'm the babe with a raised gun, and in my gun sights the men have no chance—just like the men who watch me in my movies, who roll over and play dead for me in their desire for me.  They love me for doing this, shooting bad men while I'm not wearing much clothing.  As one of the actors on the set said to me enthusiastically after I was done with a scene blasting two dirty cops in my latest movie, The Rundown, "Watching you in action, it feels that something is finally happening."  

            Seems that's the sense we get now whenever anyone is killed, either in life or on screen: something has finally been accomplished, especially if it's a woman who's getting things done.  I'm the kickass babe getting the world started in the right direction.  

           

I wonder, why do we so badly want things to happen—and need women and guns to do it?  Is it because we're bored?  Never have our lives moved faster, and never have things seen more opened-ended and indeterminate, yet we're bored.  But oddly, despite our boredom, there's great uncertainty for us—no real chaos, no war, no bodies in the streets, no famine, no plague, just low grade disorder as no one feels they know anything, or can expect anything or have a grip on anything.  No one believes their job will last, no one stays married, no one is sure if they'll be able to access their computer tomorrow or that their cell phone will work when they bring it out of their pocket.  So we're afraid, but low grade.  And we're bored, because the big stuff is taken care of: we know we're going to eat today, or that we won't catch a cold and be dying in our bed next week.   

            Increasingly, though, even the tiny stuff—where'd you leave your keys, where's the nearest pizza parlor—seems to be taken care of as our machines tell us where to go, what to do, when to even take a breath.  They're thinking for us, in the little stuff.  We hate it, secretly, how all this bullshit comes at us to make our lives easier—because really we're convinced things are  always getting worse.  Nothing we can point to, how exactly things are getting worse: we just feel it.  But again, we're very bored.  There's no consequence to anything. 

            So we have to see people—bad men, usually—getting beaten up or killed on screen.   Especially if it's a woman doing the violence.  Especially if she's naked, or barely clothed.  So they give me the gun and I run around and shoot guys, ending a series of problems.  At first I didn't like doing this, but then, surprisingly, I did.  I found I enjoyed it.  The men on the set said it was because I was getting out my anger, finally, at men, and all the bad things they'd done to me.  That's not what I felt, actually, though something felt good. 

            I think the good sensation had more to do with me being naked.  You usually feel vulnerable when you're naked, especially if you're a woman.  Naked, I'm vulnerable, but being filmed by a camera, naked, with a gun, I'm strong.  Why?  It's because of my movie role and the prop in my hand as it explodes and ejects a shell casing.  It's also the viewer's appreciation for me, for being useful—that makes me strong too. 

            In the past, very rarely, and for short amounts of time, I felt strong when I was naked.  That's when I was with a guy I loved, early on.  But my nakedness in bed, for a guy, is perhaps like a gun; it's a threat of violence and passion and dissolution.  It's a turn on.  For me it's strength, a surety in me that this will continue.  It's called love.  Then it goes away.  When the love has cooled, or ended, and I'm looking at my body in the mirror, I want the strength back.  I want that strength and confidence I felt in my nakedness as I began with a guy and he saw my body.  With a gun I have this confidence all the time; the gun actually seems to crowd out my nakedness, my body, and I don't worry how I might look, whether my body is just right.  Strange, for even though I feel this way, I work hard to look good.  I've never worked harder, which is mostly about going to the gym and doing workouts.  I'm training my body for combat, like just about all actors do these days, especially if we're women.  With a gun, my nakedness is supreme and will last forever, yet it's somehow not present.  I like that. 

            The gun seems to give guys confidence too, as I blow them away.  I even can say my lines, memorize them more easily, it seems, when I know I'm going to shoot the gun and kill a bad guy. 

           

Before I got involved in these films, I didn't like guns being put in my hand.  There were no guns in my life when I was growing up.  I'm not a country gal with gun toting father or brothers.  I still don't like them in real life, but I love to shoot them, handle them, make a bang, see the smoke, and watch the blood spurt on the guy's chest, on in his head.  I actually get off on it!  But it's the love I evoke in others that does it—the men on the set who wait for me to kill them.  It's personal—I'm going to shoot this particular guy who I rehearsed with yesterday and today.  He's a real live person, but I will make the blood mushroom on his chest.  Afterwards, on the floor, he will get up and say, "That was good.  You looked great.  Did we get that scene, or what?"

            I find that when I shoot, I want to keep shooting, just like I want to keep moving my hips when I'm having sex, just keep going, though maybe our time is ending, except if I just keep going, then I'm sure it won't end.  The gun keeps firing, or my hips keep moving.  It's my hips, and the love I'm giving my guy, and the pleasure I'm feeling—it's the same when I'm shooting a gun and killing a guy, letting all the other guys know that something has happened indeed. 

            With my pulling the trigger and making this noise and smoke I can continue anything.  I'm letting everyone understand that the world spins, and that events unfold and resolve, and there are consequences all around me in my echoing ears, as we all can discern at these moments.  And the guys I've shot know it too, when we bungle a scene, or their fake blood doesn't' explode on their chests, or when they get up after the scene is done, still dripping their movie blood.  Here is something that in our regular world will never happen at all, me shooting guys and their getting up afterwards.  I really do feel I've killed them.  And then I haven't!  What a rush.  They feel the same way.  They're killed but they're alive. 

            I want to fuck all the guys I've killed.  I don't know if it's because I've destroyed them or in my killing them I've somehow redeemed them, or redeemed all of us.  Or maybe in my shooting them the men seem just very small and easily controlled, right there, stumbling backwards, falling on the ground, then minutes later lifting themselves off the ground after I've put a bullet in them.  I want to comfort them after I've killed them, strangely.  The comfort comes from my killing them, I think. 

            The guys love me afterward too, while I kid with them and wave my gun around, knowing there may be a second or third or fourth take—and that anything that occurs in the world now, well, I'm part of it.  It's the gun that does it, that includes me, for it's solved a problem, and it also continues the movie.  And my nudity, I guess, also continues the movie and makes men feel good about my vengeance.  Badness has been corrected; in their deaths the world is atoned for.  Strange how in shooting the gun I suddenly don't feel revealed in front of the men, though as I fire the gun and the camera is rolling, never have I been more naked and part and parcel of things, for it's really bright and well-lit on a movie set!  No hiding allowed.  All is revealed. 

            Still, seems no one else can actually see what I'm doing—that's what I keep thinking, which makes no sense.  I know I'm making a movie, on the set, for millions of potential future viewers, but that doesn't enter in at this moment, even when there retakes are needed because someone  screwed up.  Right now I've raised my gun and fired at a man and ended his life.  That's what matters.  That's what's seen.  Not me.  The story continues, here in the big film barn in the lot in Culver City, California. 

I've never killed a woman on screen, though I'd like to.  It's not allowed; I've asked for it, and I am ignored.  Strange how that works, but that's one of the rules.  Can't shoot women, only men, though men love to see women fight among themselves, claws out.   They can't be shot, however, especially they can't be shot by men.  Men are such pansies as they try to keep the world right, here with their believing women are good and shouldn't have violence directed at them.  It almost feels when I kill men that they have to die for this thoughts of ours, that the world is now right and fair and good.   

            This is my fourth film with me shooting guns, so I've gotten fairly experienced.  Used to be a fairly unknown B actress in several bad movies, mostly teen movies.  Now I'm still doing B movies, but they're big budget.  Much bigger audience and bigger budgets.  I've made the step up.  I can tell too, for I go to better parties now. 

            Often in my movies, my nipples stand out when I'm firing my gun.  Even better, I sometimes get the man's blood on me, which only adds to my sense that I've enacted something significant and that there's fierceness in the air.  And the men's cocks often get stiff as I shoot men; sometimes you can see it in their pants.  None of this, though, is seen in the movies when they're released.  Special effects are implemented, if you can imagine, to make my nipples go away.  Can't have it.  Same with the men's cocks.  Gone.  Strange.  No pleasure in this murdering, though the pleasure is there; we're all living it, but it can't be acknowledged too directly.

            I shoot men while they're clothed, usually; a few times they die while they're half-naked, but not as often as you think.  Not as often as I'd like.  I'd like to shoot naked men.  Won't happen.  Lot of stuff I don't get to do, which I think would fairly obviously increase the power and attraction of the movie.  Death can happen, but no sex allowed.  It's one of the unwritten rules.  It's men who write and direct these movies, of course, and they're afraid of women killing a naked man, with his cock visible.  No cocks.  Clothed she can kill him, but naked might too closely approximate what happens in bed, I guess. 

            Men are afraid of a woman being the victim, the active victim whom we see dying, shot down, with blood blooming out of her.  Probably a big fear inside men when a woman dies.  You can see dead women all the times, as victims, as corpses, lying there, freshly murdered, whose deaths have to be investigated, and avenged, but you can't have women being actively shot dead, even by another woman, especially if either of the women are not wearing much clothing.  I've asked for that, but it's refused.  The writers and directors don't want to talk about it. Dead men in my movies, killed by powerful women.  "You shoot men, or you kick the shit out of them.  That's your job," one of the producers said to me.  He was a little bit upset at me. 

            Maybe the men want it this way because during sex women often seem to kill men while they're naked.  That's what they feel.  So they make films with me in them, the babe with a gun, ending them.  But can't show it directly, realistically, how sex with a woman seems to kill them.  Fine.  So they make movies with gun girls, or our fists of fury. 

Funny, how after seeing me kill men, guys want me to own a real gun, and they want to ask me out, date me.  They even ask to take me to a firing range!  That's what some of them say, even guys who don't shoot, who've never fired a gun in their lives.  Gotta go to the range and watch me shoot real bullets.  But I just want to take them home and strip them and see them naked, alive, this same body I killed.  Love it!  This makes sex that much better.  Guys don't seem to see it that way, though.  No love or sex.  Instead, if we go home, they often want me to dominate them, and point a gun at them while we fuck.  I can do that.  I like it, but they don't  want to make love, to slap our bodies together in bliss, to kiss or talk; instead they want to die.  Like I said, I like to kill them, but then I want them to arise, like Jesus.  Ha!  I would kid them about their cocks, saying how they seem to rise up when they're getting killed.  I even say I want to suck them after they've died.  They love that.    

            The men like to be dead while they come.  How about that?  One guy calls his orgasm "death for five seconds."  I do it, sucking him off, or fucking him after I shoot him.  I even make him come after he's died.  We pretend it.  To come while dead is the ultimate experience, that's what he says.  I've wanted to turn things around, for men to kill me, but they won't.  They shy away from that.  Men have found some kind of solution in being killed by me, but for the men to kill me only messes that up. 

            There are guys out there, of course, who would like to really kill me.  A very few.  The men I work with, and I suppose all the men in the world--other than these killers--are afraid of this situation, me being killed.  Very afraid.  I don't see it that way, for I could be killed and get a rush from that.  Everyone knows about women's rape fantasies, though again, it can't really be talked about.  Another rule not to be broken.  I don't know what's the big deal: like men, women like someone to take them over, grind them down, to replicate their feelings as they fall for someone.  Why not?  It's love.  It works both ways—men and women like to be destroyed.

            I could be killed on screen, and f course I could also be killed in real life by a man.  We women all live with this fact.  We even can learn to like the idea, because it's a true idea, a possibility.  And a big rush, and a big terror.  The two go hand in hand.  A guy can kill us,  dominate us.  Sad but true.  Now, with a gun in my hands, I turn it around.  Guys like to be dominated.  Every man does.  With my cool gun, either off the set or on the set, I show them how it's done. 

            But I don't fear the killers, those real maniacs who are out there; maybe it's because now I have a gun!  Just like the NRA says: scare away the bad guys with a gun.  But really, the NRA knows nothing, other than guns are a turn-on in the US.  We all want to be violated, because we're so lonely and separate.  And though I've shot a lot of people, I'm not any tougher now that before I started with these movies.  I might be in better shape!  These action movies are like gym memberships.  But, again, I would like to be killed with a gun, on the set, perhaps after I've shot a lot of guys.  Not going to happen.  Having me die would destroy all the men, in some new and different way.  It would take control away from them, and take away the thrill they get from be debased by a beautiful women.  And if I were to die on screen, with blood spurting from me—where exactly would the bullet hit me?  That was one of the things the director said, as I were an idiot to even bring this up.  Where, huh?

            It seemed all my body was sacred—no spot to be pierced, though they dream of me being pierced by their cocks all the time.  Maybe that's why they like to be killed: guilt at all their thoughts about piercing me.  No bullet must do that.  Who knows?

            But being naked with a gun seems to ask for it, to ask for violence against me.  Eventually I'll have to be killed, but for now I kill guys or beat them up and leave them lying in a heap, and I feel much better about myself and much better about men.  They're like me now, finally: both of us knowing how strong we can be and how it can be taken away and we're rendered weak.  Fabulous.  Being weak is such a turn on, especially with a gun in your hand.  I know, it makes no sense.  But one seems to bring the other.  I'm vicious on screen, and I'm so much nicer to people now, especially those I've killed, which is just about everyone, it seems.  Some online zine says I've killed 87 guys in my four movies. 

            And every other actress is killing men on screen these days, even real actresses, who've made names for themselves in real movies, movies without killing, though there are fewer and fewer of those movies these days.  Most movies have to have killing it them.  It's how we reduce our fear, our gilt, I guess.  We're all sacrifices to the murder.  It's everywhere, in many movies; it's just that my movies take it further.  More of it, and more vicious.  With some men I kill, I'm allowed to be shown actually enjoying it.  But all the men I kill--and probably every man who's NOT in my movies--has to die, because the culture feels guilty about all the badness in the world, and how we won't really call it badness, or evil.  There's little talk of evil these days, or about what's right and wrong.  We don't believe in that anymore, though there's badness everywhere, so bad guys must get killed.  It's kind of surrogate killing, or proxy killing. 

            Or maybe I have to kill lots of guys because most of us don't believe in capital punishment.  We live off this now: our guilt that badness continues, things like racism or war, or corporate thievery, or men being officially murdered in prison.  We just feel so impotent—but we won't kill!  Fewer and fewer executions, though more and more people are executed in movies.  We kind of revel in the badness, the badness done to the world, to women, to children, by men, which is all the culture believes in now: all the poor beset upon people in the world, and all the powerful men who are doing it.  Women, they don't do wrong, and have no say or complicity in any of the wrongness.  Only men do bad, but we can't officially kill them.  So I kill them.   

            I'm a woman, and I'm good.  Yes, of course we know women do bad, but only in a catty, minor way, like talk behind their friend's back, or expect too much at their weddings—but not in any big cultural way that affects everyone.  Women are weak and so they have everything done to them.  Woe is us.  Only men can be bad, and so they must die.  I kill them and everyone is happy.  Something has happened that should have happened, that needs to be repeated, especially when we're naked and vulnerable, as we all are these days as bad times rise around us and no one does anything about it, except me perhaps.  But again, when am I going to die.  Ever?