I’ve fucked and sucked with the best of them: porn idols, porn newbies, and everyone in between. Some of them genuinely made me cream. I’ve worked with talented photographers, directors, and models; I’ve also worked with unprofessional, egotistical weirdos. I’ve been hard, heart-warmed, sweaty, and satisfied, as well as awkward, uncomfortable, and sad. Making porn can be rewarding, sure, but it can also be arduous, disruptive, and samey. When all’s said and done, I was having fun, but I've learned a lot about myself along the way and now the tides have changed.
THE CHANGING FACE OF PORN
There’s no denying that porn is wrapped up in social media - and we all know it's a crowded arena. Spend ten minutes on Twitter and you'll see that it's filled with what's probably an unhealthy amount of cock and, for models, it’s extremely demanding: replies, likes, retweets, tags, and faves... only for everything to get old in record speed. There's content from years ago, decades ago, that's hot as fuck and now goes unnoticed or forgotten. There are artsy creators trying to change the game today who don't get a look in because, by this time next week, their work’s already expired.
Social media marketing is a pretty well established field: to make the best of it, you really must live it, breathe it, and even tiktok it. In observing those who’ve tamed its algorithmic ways, I’ve realised that one can carry on working harder and harder, fucking further up the food chain, and raw-dogging everyone you’ve ever dreamed of... only to have to carry on fucking regardless. There's no endgame. You either do it ‘til you can't or quit while you're ahead. Porn isn’t so much about making things any more, it’s a lifestyle.
UNPRECEDENTED TIMES
With clubs shut and social distancing in force, we’ve come to realise our dependencies, our comforts, and the façade of porn. Who self-identifies as a star? Whose personalities have flourished in lockdown? Who’s been rebranded a racist?
We’ve created enough porn to last us another ten pandemics, so I wonder: why do we film these countless one-offs in dimly lit bedrooms with people we're unsure of? Why are we prostrating ourselves in performative retellings of the last time we saw a guy get slapped or spat on? We fashion ourselves on corporate brands, too, and we’re expected to act as our own PR agents. We’re urged to comment on the latest fads, trends, and crises. And with all this in mind, how can I go about uploading photos of my bum hole to the same platform Donald Trump threatens to shoot his own citizens?
I worry: should my cock and balls be juxtaposed against the horrors of the world? Are our bizarre echo-chambers - stuffed with one-upmanship, bitesize nightmares, and habitual cream pies - harming our perception of reality? There’s little room for nuance, no time for patience, yet the hamster-wheel keeps on turning.
BUSINESS DOING PLEASURE WITH YOU
Moving forward, I won't shy away from an opportunity or artist that resonates with me, but I’m not going to be churning out any more of my own content (daily, weekly, or otherwise). I may say hi from time to time on social (I could even post a thirst trap), but I’m out of the game. I just no longer have the patience or the temperament to worry about angles or the audience. It’s a boner-killer. I want to share moments with people who spark something in me, my body, and my mind.
Thank you for enjoying my content these few years. I had some wild adventures. I’m especially grateful to those of you who talked to me, left comments, drew me, and took an active interest in how I’m feeling. Never say never.
THE CHANGING FACE OF PORN
There’s no denying that porn is wrapped up in social media - and we all know it's a crowded arena. Spend ten minutes on Twitter and you'll see that it's filled with what's probably an unhealthy amount of cock and, for models, it’s extremely demanding: replies, likes, retweets, tags, and faves... only for everything to get old in record speed. There's content from years ago, decades ago, that's hot as fuck and now goes unnoticed or forgotten. There are artsy creators trying to change the game today who don't get a look in because, by this time next week, their work’s already expired.
Social media marketing is a pretty well established field: to make the best of it, you really must live it, breathe it, and even tiktok it. In observing those who’ve tamed its algorithmic ways, I’ve realised that one can carry on working harder and harder, fucking further up the food chain, and raw-dogging everyone you’ve ever dreamed of... only to have to carry on fucking regardless. There's no endgame. You either do it ‘til you can't or quit while you're ahead. Porn isn’t so much about making things any more, it’s a lifestyle.
UNPRECEDENTED TIMES
With clubs shut and social distancing in force, we’ve come to realise our dependencies, our comforts, and the façade of porn. Who self-identifies as a star? Whose personalities have flourished in lockdown? Who’s been rebranded a racist?
We’ve created enough porn to last us another ten pandemics, so I wonder: why do we film these countless one-offs in dimly lit bedrooms with people we're unsure of? Why are we prostrating ourselves in performative retellings of the last time we saw a guy get slapped or spat on? We fashion ourselves on corporate brands, too, and we’re expected to act as our own PR agents. We’re urged to comment on the latest fads, trends, and crises. And with all this in mind, how can I go about uploading photos of my bum hole to the same platform Donald Trump threatens to shoot his own citizens?
I worry: should my cock and balls be juxtaposed against the horrors of the world? Are our bizarre echo-chambers - stuffed with one-upmanship, bitesize nightmares, and habitual cream pies - harming our perception of reality? There’s little room for nuance, no time for patience, yet the hamster-wheel keeps on turning.
BUSINESS DOING PLEASURE WITH YOU
Moving forward, I won't shy away from an opportunity or artist that resonates with me, but I’m not going to be churning out any more of my own content (daily, weekly, or otherwise). I may say hi from time to time on social (I could even post a thirst trap), but I’m out of the game. I just no longer have the patience or the temperament to worry about angles or the audience. It’s a boner-killer. I want to share moments with people who spark something in me, my body, and my mind.
Thank you for enjoying my content these few years. I had some wild adventures. I’m especially grateful to those of you who talked to me, left comments, drew me, and took an active interest in how I’m feeling. Never say never.
08.07.2020
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