8:15 a.m. - July 21, 2003
Yes, that's right. An official pornographer. No, I'm not talking about the various photos that have found their way onto the computer, or even the three DVDs I have at home that A[deleted]a knows to remove should I die suddenly. I'm also not talking about the movies I found on Kazaa - who knew, who knew? - but I'm talking about a short story I wrote and submitted to a erm... men's magazine a few months ago. In today's in-box there's confirmation that my smut will be published in the September issue and a check for $650.00 is coming my way.
I'm a pornographer and I'm feeling conflicted over this, I feel I've surely left something behind on the other side labeled Morals or Decency in favor of the prurient and base. Aren't I more than this? Interesting to note my sexuality paradigm: In the one corner there's the bawdy Scorpio yeah-I-want-sex and in the other Jason's Issues, both refereed by a balding avatar wielding a sword and the two combatants play like sumo wrestlers, neither making the first move until one does and the latter becomes the loser. No one knows how it will be played out until it is over.
Is it so terrible, so base, so gay that I've written a smut piece (okay, erotica) that's going to be published? Is there something inherently wrong and immoral about that? Or is it just my head alarmed by how often now I'm swimming in this big gay cesspool, swimming with ease as long as it's my dick being sucked and the guy wants nothing more, conflicted all the while because I'm disturbed by what I see emerging and feel powerless to intercede and subjugate these wild cries that are making themselves heard with more vibrancy and bass than ever before?