That Thing You Do With Your Mouth: The Sexual Autobiography of Samantha Matthews as Told to David Shields by David Shields, Samantha Matthews Page A
Authors: David Shields, Samantha Matthews
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liked sex. Itâs just something that comes naturally to me.
Are there certain people you like working with?
Itâs great when you get to work with someone you have a good connection with. I usually get to choose my partners.
The men always seem to have orgasms, but you can never really tell if the woman does. Do you fake your orgasms?
Well, sometimes, you know, for the film. Even though you may not feel excited, itâs important that the person watching the film thinks you are, but Iâve had orgasms. Really. Lots oftimes. If youâre with someone you like working with, it can happen.
What would you say is your sexual fantasy?
Iâve always wanted to have sex with a complete stranger in a bathroom at a gas station.
In a bathroom at a gas station?
Yeah.
Why a gas station?
I donât know.
Trying to explain to my actress friend in LA why I far prefer rehearsal to performanceâ¦
Annie Ernauxâs writing is so unpretentious and simple and concise. I like how she occasionally reveals herself in this mysterious way, never giving away too much but letting you in enough to want more. Thatâs a huge difference between French and American culture. Living abroad has made me see the American impulse to talk about everything as veering at times toward the grotesque.
Last night I went to the cinema by myself to see Amour , which would never have worked had it beendone in the States. Hollywood would have made everything over the top and too revealing, pounding it into the ground. Its sole purpose would have been to be a platform for an actress to win an Oscar. They would have used a forty-something actress to portray an eighty-year-old, transforming her face to show she could âplay uglyâ; then sheâd appear at the Oscars as a Botoxed princess.
In â95, after graduating from college, I moved to LA âto break in to the businessâ and worked a few nights a week in the bar at Marie Callenderâs. During a staff talent show, after I got attacked in the kitchen by the head chef, I drove out to a dangerous neighborhood to buy cigarettes. Talking to a bum, smoking in the parking lot, I got that Kill Me Now feeling.
Iâve been haunted by the article about Lindsay Lohan you forwarded to me. Obviously, she and I are very different. Some of her behavior, though, is very familiarânot the spoiled-brat, diva stuff, but fear of being alone (which her director remarked upon), pushing limits, etc.
Women in LA definitely have their own way of dressing. One step above hooker. They really accentuate their asses.
The women and men in the movies I dubbed were usually so cheeseball. My mother âtoldâ me theyâre gross and wrong. All the women look pretty much bog-standard: fake tits, blow-job lips, and pretty fit, nothing that stands out to me. The guys are hulky and stupid, shallow, just a dick. One particularly sexy couple sticks in my mind, but I enjoyed watching their chemistry more than I wanted to join in. I crave that chemistry with someone I know.
In college I got really angry in my first Women in Theater class. The typical nineteen-year-old revolutionary phaseâdiscovering all the ways in which women are objectified, suddenly feeling all the frat boys around me, dragging their tongues on the ground at any femaleâand I wanted to kill them. A bunch of throbbing penises everywhere. I dressed in ways that hid my body and I didnât want anyone to look at me. They were to like my brain, not my face or body. That might have been justanother excuse for feeling ugly, to hate them before they could tell me I was ugly.
Suffered through a cartoon dubbing session this morning. Not feeling it at all. Not inspired in any of my work right now. I hate living in this passionless state. Iâm boring myself. No highs or lows, just gray and dull. Must be this No Vices month. February is almost here, though.
Medea was exotic. She was half-Chinese, kinda punk,
Are there certain people you like working with?
Itâs great when you get to work with someone you have a good connection with. I usually get to choose my partners.
The men always seem to have orgasms, but you can never really tell if the woman does. Do you fake your orgasms?
Well, sometimes, you know, for the film. Even though you may not feel excited, itâs important that the person watching the film thinks you are, but Iâve had orgasms. Really. Lots oftimes. If youâre with someone you like working with, it can happen.
What would you say is your sexual fantasy?
Iâve always wanted to have sex with a complete stranger in a bathroom at a gas station.
In a bathroom at a gas station?
Yeah.
Why a gas station?
I donât know.
Trying to explain to my actress friend in LA why I far prefer rehearsal to performanceâ¦
Annie Ernauxâs writing is so unpretentious and simple and concise. I like how she occasionally reveals herself in this mysterious way, never giving away too much but letting you in enough to want more. Thatâs a huge difference between French and American culture. Living abroad has made me see the American impulse to talk about everything as veering at times toward the grotesque.
Last night I went to the cinema by myself to see Amour , which would never have worked had it beendone in the States. Hollywood would have made everything over the top and too revealing, pounding it into the ground. Its sole purpose would have been to be a platform for an actress to win an Oscar. They would have used a forty-something actress to portray an eighty-year-old, transforming her face to show she could âplay uglyâ; then sheâd appear at the Oscars as a Botoxed princess.
In â95, after graduating from college, I moved to LA âto break in to the businessâ and worked a few nights a week in the bar at Marie Callenderâs. During a staff talent show, after I got attacked in the kitchen by the head chef, I drove out to a dangerous neighborhood to buy cigarettes. Talking to a bum, smoking in the parking lot, I got that Kill Me Now feeling.
Iâve been haunted by the article about Lindsay Lohan you forwarded to me. Obviously, she and I are very different. Some of her behavior, though, is very familiarânot the spoiled-brat, diva stuff, but fear of being alone (which her director remarked upon), pushing limits, etc.
Women in LA definitely have their own way of dressing. One step above hooker. They really accentuate their asses.
The women and men in the movies I dubbed were usually so cheeseball. My mother âtoldâ me theyâre gross and wrong. All the women look pretty much bog-standard: fake tits, blow-job lips, and pretty fit, nothing that stands out to me. The guys are hulky and stupid, shallow, just a dick. One particularly sexy couple sticks in my mind, but I enjoyed watching their chemistry more than I wanted to join in. I crave that chemistry with someone I know.
In college I got really angry in my first Women in Theater class. The typical nineteen-year-old revolutionary phaseâdiscovering all the ways in which women are objectified, suddenly feeling all the frat boys around me, dragging their tongues on the ground at any femaleâand I wanted to kill them. A bunch of throbbing penises everywhere. I dressed in ways that hid my body and I didnât want anyone to look at me. They were to like my brain, not my face or body. That might have been justanother excuse for feeling ugly, to hate them before they could tell me I was ugly.
Suffered through a cartoon dubbing session this morning. Not feeling it at all. Not inspired in any of my work right now. I hate living in this passionless state. Iâm boring myself. No highs or lows, just gray and dull. Must be this No Vices month. February is almost here, though.
Medea was exotic. She was half-Chinese, kinda punk,
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