Mozart Parks a Car

I get a lot of varied responses about my involvement in porn.  When I first started in the industry as a model two years ago half of my friends were worried that I was going to start “making porn,” the other half wondering when I was going to start “making porn.”

A lot of my friends consider that what I do isn’t “really porn.” Which I guess is a compliment?

Usually the response I get when I tell my friends I do porn now is, “Wow, you were always really sexy/pretty/wild/crazy/etc., so I guess that’s cool.” or “Yeah, cash in on that shit!”

My brother worries that I’m too cavalier about the whole endeavor and is afraid of how I’ll feel when I come up against the inevitable backlash from someone I respect/love/etc.  I’m not really worried about that though.  I’m so self involved I rarely worry about/notice what other people think, let alone care.  Nica Noelle once tweeted “My life has an audience of one,” and I tend to agree with the sentiment.

The worst I’ve gotten was from a respected glamour photographer, who is okay with porn, but I guess not my involvement in it.  He said, “You doing porn is like Mozart parking cars.”  My response was “No, it’s like Mozart making porn.”

Then sometimes I get something like this:

    • Hello,
      I was just checking out your new career (upon consideration, it is likely not new) and I wanted to say how rad it is to see you being able to succeed in general without a tremendous amount of that sort of sucking up of self that people seem to regard as normal. It is impressive that you are allowed, no…encouraged to be both cerebral and sexual. Although, I would argue that the two are inseparable, both in you and the world as I see it.

    • Hey,

      It’s good to hear from you! Thank you so much. This has been an interesting journey to say the least. There is a lot of pressure to abandon any self at all when you enter into this industry. I have the advantage of not even qualifying to be the typical “porn girl,” so expectations of me are much less stringent.


  • X

    • Greetings! (I feel the need to maintain the letter format in communications, despite the fact that I find all salutations uniformly sickening and trite. I should just start using non-sequiter. Dog vomit! Giraffe panties! etc.),

      I don’t know that I have participated in enough porn to understand completely what a porn girl is. I feel like that debate mirrors the one that people have about homosexuality in which they try to be accepting, but also rob individuals of agency by saying, “She was born this way. She can’t help it.” That always sounds so annoying on some level because it both fuels the false dichotomy of either choosing to be gay/in porn/fat/whatever your socially unacceptable habit is or being born that way. Also, it seems to offer absolution only to those who have fallen into that lifestyle via abuse or genetics or some hideously fated combination. I think these simplifications ring especially a false in a post modern world, where a self is a fleeting fragment of an unattainable whole. So, I guess I am really saying fuck all and musing instead of finishing my syllabus.

      I will say that you clearly are not of the busted face/visible breast implant scar variety that so pain me. But, as my only rule for watching porn be that the woman has an orgasm that I believe, I mostly watch amateur porn or avoid the debate altogether and watch animated porn. You likely are the sort of girl that people feel uncomfortable seeing naked because you challenge their assumptions by being pretty and capable and making a conscious choice to do what you want. That’s probably the best sort. I took an Erotics of Power class at Portland State and one of the girls in my class was Marina from the link below. She was very similar in that she was going to school and was funny and smart and the movies she makes involve her having her head shaved and being stuffed in a barrel. Her work is violent and cathartic


It was really refreshing to get this kind of letter in my inbox.  One because it was great to hear from an old friend, but also to hear that I was having some effect on the way someone was receiving the message through my medium.  At the same time I felt exhausted.  I feel very exhausted.

Here is why:

I have a bigger blog coming on why I decided to enter into the industry, I just can’t decide if that’s a topic of any interest to anyone but myself.  Frankly, most of the things I could write about these days are in grave danger of becoming “girl that doesn’t normally do X, writes about doing X!”, which is both trite and tedious.

I’ve always identified as a writer, but as of late have felt quite “blocked” as it were.  I do have things that I want to talk about, I continue to compost (I wouldn’t really call it composing) my novel, meandering through a million plot turns in my mind and researching in an endless feedback loop that verges on ADHD.  The problem is, that upon further consideration, these things end in not seeming worth the effort.  I don’t know that I have anything to say that hasn’t been said more eloquently by those with more stamina or drive to define themselves and champion their causes.

I’m in a strange place right now, where experience matters far more than anything I could say about it.  I just want to see, feel, and do things.  I make pornography because it calms me down.  I’ve never felt more at ease in my life than I do at this moment.  I’m not really very interested in making any statements with my work.  I don’t even really care that much about the finished product.  My main concern these days in in the quality of the experience of making the art itself.  It’s been a relief really.  I find myself less and less concerned that I look perfect in every image or that I come across a certain way on video.

There’s a scene in Sinderella and Me, the porn fairytale by Nica Noelle starring Allie Haze and Manuel Ferrara that comes to mind.  Prince Charmant played by Ferrara, is watching porn alone in his room, and after a few moments, with a resigned sigh, he turns it off.  The moment resonates on a meta level, because there’s something about seeing one of the most regarded male performers of his generation having a moment of erotic/existential ennui.

When I sit down at the table to become part of the discourse on porn as an “intelligent voice,” (whatever that means) I just want point the remote at the internet, and hit the power button.

I call this Mozart Parks a Car. It's my "meta" statement.

About Sovereign Syre

We were raised as wolves, and wolves we will remain.
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