In my previous post, I referenced an article that I wrote for SexIs magazine, “Shoot: The Education and Evolution of A Pornographer“  which was subsequently picked up by Alternet.org, whom, to my mild dismay, chose the more literal, ham-fisted title “Why I Had to Stop Making Hardcore Porn.”

Anyway, I’m inspired to comment, if only because the slant of the article was, for a lack of a better term, a bit bleeding-heart. Which is entirely my fault; after all, I wrote it. In fact, I do feel a bit bleeding-heart about porn - sometimes.

Essentially, “Shoot” disparages heterosexual porn, particularly the gonzo brand, which can often appear predicated on the destruction of its female objects. It lauds gay porn for the lack of misogyny and aggression. All true stuff.

But I’m on the fence about my own piece of writing, simply because I don’t feel the same way, consistently, about hetero porn. The slant of my book, after all, is largely humorous. There’s pathos in there, and some tragic shit, to be sure - but it’s more of a coming-of-age story than a cautionary tale.

Porn is so many things: it is trashy. It is tragic. It is literally disgusting. And yet, it is hilarious. Upon the publication of this article, I got an wildly positive response from anti-pornography readers, applauding me for the bias I implied in my article. Alternet is a politically-leftist site: they asked me to do more writing for them. I felt like doors were opening for me - and yet, if these people knew the “real me,” would they love me, still?

The truth of the matter is that I am inconsistent. Disconcertingly so. I think racist jokes are funny. I just do. My cartoons on this site are proudly foul. I have a gross sense of humor. And perhaps that makes me a weak person. I’m not sure. While I decry rough sex and the degradation of women on video, I can’t say that I haven’t participated in scenes of profound grossness in my life. Does it make me a liar: a hypocrite. I suppose that I am. Possibly, I am not worthy of being lauded by a leftist agenda. This is my confession.

I’ve always had a bit of a difficult time with the “sex-positive” community, in fact, even though I openly admit their practices are spiritually superior to the run-of-the-mill L.A. San Fernando hate-fuck punch-you-in-the-eye porn. Ever since I discovered Good Vibrations and the San Francisco-sex community during the early 2000’s, when I was attempting to make my own alternative brand of pornography, I felt a distinct love-hate with the sex-positives.

I was in one of their films, Slide Bi Me, and I had a splendid time performing. They paid me right, even promised me a slice of the profits; I got treated like a real person, instead of a piece of meat, and it was beautiful. But at the same time, in some ways, I felt the dirty, scummy honesty of the Los Angeles porn world - for all it’s backwardness - suited me better. It just spoke of a truer reality. It embraced, instead of denied, the colossal bummer of trauma that brings so many to sex work, and there was a kind of magic in that, too . . .

I’m not trying to stick up for sleaze, or bleak, hateful porn. I’m just saying that there’s a troubling pressure in today’s world (and in the practice of editorial journalism) to have an clear opinion, to stick to it like glue. But for me, believing and even embodying both sides of the debate feels more appropriate. Owning up to the depths of my own inconsistency has hurt me in the past - but dammit, it’s just real . . .