L Z Hansens latest published work ‘Going Down’ appears in The acclaimed drug series out on Akashic books- The Heroin Chronicles edited by Jerry Stahl- (available on Amazon Jan 1 2013 – Click Here to Order)
Hansen has been working on her chick Lit novel- “Going Down in Gotham” and involved in currating a show illuminating Banned Books in Colleges and schools, called Vicious Circus- Also in the works another monthly literati event incorporating film, music and raw words from choice writers,@ Manitobas on Ave B- (to be announced)
She’s collaborating with film maker Glenora Blackshire on a film that’s shown while she reads, stobe like images confronting her past life living on the tough streets of the L.E.S, the sex industry, jail, and running her successful brothels.
ZOE HANSEN, ERIC DANVILLE, LAINIE SPEISER Present-
The World Premiere of THE VICIOUS CIRCUS-
A new monthly alternative performance series featuring a rotating group of literati guest readers-
We give you our fabulously banned books readers this month:
Shannon Conley,Robert Rosen,Kristin Davis,Lisa Anne,Puma Perl,Reverend Jen,Mary ‘Raff’ Raffaele
FREE! Thursday Oct 4 8-10 pm
Upstairs in the Infamous TREE HOUSE of 2A!
Life can be rolling along at a pleasant pace, everything falling into place as you planned when suddenly the walls come crashing in and things just spiral out of control. Now, one can argue that these occurrences are meant to be, and that without them life would be controlled and dull. But I always liked controlled. I didn’t like surprises, even good ones. I needed to know what was going to happen three days from today, or next week. I kept a journal and documented and planned my life, and always had.
As a child I’d day dreamed about my future husband, how many children I’d have, even their names, that constantly changed, but id even kept records of that. My prince charming was going to be my life. Each boyfriend was the one. I’d put his image into the slot of my perfect life. He’d be the man of my dreams, and father of our four children, who’d all be born two years apart, two girls two boys.
Then I’d met Del. And my life changed, I changed. It was an instant attraction. I was new to the whole music scene, and Del was a lead singer of an up and coming band. I was thrust into the whirlwind life of the band/wives club. The women who live behind the star.
* * *
It began, and ended on a September afternoon.
I’d begun unpacking our three suitcases into a single dresser I’d bought at some junk store on Avenue A, I’d even helped lug it up our four flights of stairs. I now finally had a place to put some of our clothing into. I wanted to set up our new home and have everything in order before my husband came back from his East Coast tour.
Life with Lucky
I hear a scared muffled whisper from the other side of the door to our apartment. I was counting change at the kitchen table and had stacks of dimes, quarters, nickels and pennies in neat rows. The sound of Tommy’s voice made me jump, spilling the coins over.
“Who is it?” I playfully teased.
“It’s me!” he said.
‘Me,’ was my boyfriend, and partner in crime, Tommy. We’d been together six months, but it seemed like forever.
Tommy was a cool looking rock dude with straight straggly black hair, pale never seen sunlight skin, and the skinniest legs imaginable. We borrowed each other’s clothing, read the same books, listened to the same music, ate the same food; we even looked alike. We shared everything, in our perfect little Lower East Side haven.
I opened the front door as Tommy raced past me, over to our single window that looked over Orchard Street, where he quickly pulled the blind down.
“Baby what’s wrong? I asked, concerned. Tommy looked scared. His ghostly pallor was shinny from perspiration, his usually pinned eyes big as saucers.
He lit a Newport cigarette and sat down on the edge of the couch catching his breath, and looked up at me. Read More
Which appears in The Unbearables Big Book of Sex published by Autonomedia-
“I was honored to be among so many literary outlaws. It’s a rare collection of artists who haven’t sold out and do what they do well, go buy The Big Book of Sex.”
GOING DOWN IN GOTHAM
Alone in Gotham
On the wall across from where I was standing was a picture that caught my eye. I was drawn to the ancient old barn and a small duck next to a couple bails of hay, the sky was a stormy blue, and a dark winding road veered off to the right. There was something about the road that intrigued me. It appeared to be an entrance way into a darkened tunnel, a gateway into mysterious and secret world hidden from most.
My mind drifted to images of my mother reading me “The Secret Garden.” A story about a child who discovered a forgotten magical place that would come alive when visited. The tangled vines and over grown flower beds knotted in weeds seemed so inviting to me. I recalled wishing I could jump into that book and live there. I felt safety, solitude and beauty in that story, and this mysterious painting made me feel the same.
“An eye-opening, astonishing, honest and funny collection from those who really have lived on the edge in a parallel universe… Unpretentious and riveting, their tales are also graphic, politically incorrect and mostly unquotable in this newspaper.”
Toni Bentley, NY Times
Four of us filed into the small dimly lit living room to line up and introduce ourselves to a new client. Dani wore a skimpy black lace teddy that barely contained her latest purchase: huge fake tits. Standing next to her was Desiree, skin black as night, long blond hair cascading down her back in waves of weaves. Jennifer, in a waist cinching corset, had short red pixie styled hair and freckled skin. Then there was me. I had real breasts, no fake orange tan, and shiny jet black hair that went down to my ass.
It was almost one a.m. I’d seen five clients and was satisfied with my earnings. My eyes lazily focused on a shaggy haired client sitting slouched in our ‘hot-seat.’ Adrenaline surged through my body. I looked to my left. Dani raised her painted eyebrow in a ‘he’s mine’ look. On my right Desiree jabbed me in the ribs. I whispered “shush.” We all stood there thinking the same thing: “Damn, this man is hot!” We sometimes made remarks about a handsome man, but not often. I liked the way his jeans were tight around thick muscular thighs. Under a mop of golden brown hair he had dark eyes, a prominent nose and a chiseled jaw. He made me nervous.
Dani was first. She pushed her surgeon bought breasts out and used a very Marilyn Monroe-esque voice I’d never heard before.
“Oh… Sorry, me first? OOP’.… Ok then, (giggle giggle) Helloo I’m Daniella.” She smiled a very none Dani coquettish smile. I rolled my eyes. He nodded his head at Dani and grinned. The client was sitting forward with his arm sticking up and bent at the elbow, fist on thigh. Very masculine pose. I could feel the women all exhale together. He was clearly comfortable. Not at all nervous, unlike most the men who sat in that chair.
‘Please God not me I dont want him. It’s too embarrassing to fuck a guy I might see out in my neighborhood, someone I know I’d date. Please God let someone else make the money, don’t let him pick me.’
The Lady is a Pimp
Read the whole interview here.
“Lizzy, your eight o’clock is here. Room three. Hurry.” Ingrid yelled from the office.
I’d been lounging in the living room with the other women. I stubbed my cigarette out and pulled myself up from the couch
“On my way up now.” I yelled back.
I had been prepared for Sidney Glick, a client of the house who favored domme sessions. We had never met. Ingrid had directed him to me as I was the only girl on schedule who didn’t mind doing dominance sessions. I lunged up the stairs two at a time in my six-inch heels to the third floor. I knocked on the door and walked in, morphing into Mistress.
HEROIN MY LOVE
by LZ Hansen
I was a sweet looking child. I had a long thick mane of brown hair, that seemed to be constantly tangled, pure white skin and a pout, that kept people at bay. I was shy, withdrawn and at that age obeyed my parents…. And I had a secret. A secret I had cultivated from overheard conversations between adults, American TV shows, and later rock n roll memoirs I obsessed over. My secret was that I aspired to be a junkie, a really good junkie.
I copied the fashions of skinny straggly haired women who smoked unfiltered cigarettes and had far away eyes.
When I reached my teens and tired of the other substances I was indulging. I found heroin. It had been a fifteen year search and I was… excited. More than excited. I was turned on. I was a virgin on her honeymoon.
My new runaway boyfriend lived in a squat in Earls Court not far from my parents home. It was a teenage hangout, home, shooting gallery. I had a plan. At 5:30 Friday afternoon. I’d meet Tommy at his squat where he would have the drugs waiting. My heroin, my dream, my future.
I wanted to feel all of it, experience every moment. My life was in front of me. This was more than a love affair or a crush on a boy this was the gateway into myself, this was me, heroin was me.
Butterflies fought in my stomach, the anticipation. We sat on the floor…Tommy began to mix my hit with expert handling. He measured half a syringe of water and scooped a small amount of perfectly brown smooth beautiful heroin into a dirty spoon. With concentration and steady hands he held the spoon over a cigarette lighter, until the brown mixture almost boiled. Tommy bit off a tiny piece of a cigarette filter, rolled it between his filthy thumb and forefinger, and dropped it into the sweet mixture. With a old bent syringe he drew up my hit. Tommy tied my thin arm tightly with his leather belt and smiled at me. Holding the syringe to the light he flicked out an air bubble, and licked the tip of the needle.
I wasn’t nervous or scared I had waited for for, so long. I needed it. My lips felt loose, wet, trembling. He jammed the spike in my arm, shock at first…but… the pain felt good. I saw the blood register, thick red virgin blood swirled up into the barrel in a slow dance, he plunged the muddy heroin downward, and immediately like a blissful transcending orgasm, the heroin hit my mind, my crotch, my breasts. I could taste it in my veins feel it swirl in my wrists, my cheeks, my eyeballs, warm soft warmth.
I had had my first sexual orgasm when I was a young teenager. I was kissing and making out with a boy named Chris. He was a smart, handsome, & went to a good English public school. We were under the covers in his bed. After a long slow make out session he reached into my underpants and began to rub my clit. We touched each other softly, it was very sweet and innocent. With his fingers on my vagina suddenly I was shook. A flood, a wave of warmth and bliss curdled my blood. I was lifted into another world my eyes rolled back in my head as I came in a shocking surprise.
As Tommy pulled the spike out of my arm I sunk back against the side of the bed, limp. I felt him pull the belt from my arm and ask if “I was all right?” I opened my eyes to try and focus. I felt completely fucked. As the hours passed my mind drifted. Images flickered, snapshots, moments in my life, horrific terrifying childhood pictures sizzled in a strobe like effect …but they… didn’t bother me any longer. I saw colors, reds and gold’s. Masturbating naked nymphs danced, and uncircumcised angles played in my mind. I tripped and fell into a warm soft comforting womb and cried in the devils arms.
I saw my soul.…I was in love, truly passionately, obsessively. I had been given my wings, my first time, I was on my way…..