"6": Prettiness. i.

I recently saw Kill Bill 2 for the third time. There are very few movies I have seen or would see that many times. I love this film. I love what Tarantino does with characters. He gives them time to etch themselves slowly on the screen, filling in between the lines and bringing themselves to life. I love the archetypal journey of a woman, a hero, a fighter and conquistador who is courageous and fierce.

I'm with a male friend. We're at the scene where Uma has been buried alive in a nailed shut coffin. She's panicking - she's going to die there. She's sweating, crying, screaming and bleeding. Until she has an epiphany and realizes she has the ability to ratchet herself out of this impossible situation. And out she comes. Pounding, swinging and clawing her way through this mess. She's covered in dirt and blood and sweat and she's looks better than I've ever seen her.


"She's beautiful," I say. He looks at me quizzically. "Uma."

"I've always thought Uma Thurman was beautiful," he says.

"Hmm. Sort of. But she's gorgeous now. Her hair is matted, there's shit all over her, she's bleeding and she's a fucking mess. But she's more self-possessed than I've ever seen her. She's far more beautiful than when she's in her perfect dresses, dolled up or playing stupid hookers."(Smart hookers are fine.)

I remember reading an interview with Uma after the making of Kill Bill. She was talking about how Tarantino claimed to love her. "What kind of love is this?" she said. "He's constantly covering me in shit and dirt... This is love?" I think Tarantino knew exactly what he was doing. You take a born-pretty girl and you dress her up in pretty things, curl her pretty hair and she becomes empty. Vacuous. The only thing she can claim as a self identity is her one dimensional beauty. But take a pretty girl and throw some shit on her, and make her fight her way out of it and she'll grow to be other-worldly radiant and a force to be reckoned with.

Postmodern pornography

Debauchette and I are finally coming to the point of being able to launch a project we’ve been working on over the past couple of years. We’re in LA, staying in a hotel suite that Helmut Newton lived in to put the last touches on and move forward to our debut.

Here’s the elevator pitch: Haute porn with a heart. Erotic material that’s authentic, intelligent and aesthetically beautiful. Postmodern porn. A sexual New Yorker.

We’ve created a forum for content that is difficult to find and hasn't been allowed to be produced, shown or published elsewhere. Smart porn. It's a website – an online magazine showcasing video, photography and written works. To borrow a term Reverse Cowgirl coined, it's Pornographic Coolhunting.

This blog is about beauty and depravity. How kinky, wild and outrageous sex can be incredibly self-actualizing. How acknowledging our deeply sensual selves can change our lives. How having my pussy in the air for 40 minutes and having someone photograph it (on Helmut’s desk) causes me to lose all traces of self-consciousness. Through these experiences, something in me changes alchemically. I lose my ego. This point is at the heart of every wild sexual thing – particularly every wild sexual submissive, exhibitionist thing I’ve ever done. I lose my ego and I can get back to being myself, unobstructed.

It’s soul Pilates: “According to practitioners, the central aim of Pilates is to create a fusion of mind and body, so that without thinking about it the body will move with economy, grace, and balance. The end goal is to produce an attention-free union of mind and body.” (wikipedia) And so it is with me shedding my ego: I can function without self-censoring. All my actions come forth spontaneously and I don’t think about who I have been or who I should be. I can just be.

This is what compels me to blog about my sexual experiences – to share about the power in them: the em-powerment. Further, it’s what’s compelled debauchette and I to create this venue: to house a space that gives permission. To publish kinky shit, beautiful cunts, dirty thoughts and unspeakable fantasies. To en-courage, to act on courage and to grow from it.

We have many delicious photos to post from our time spent in Helmut’s room. And the balcony. And on his desk. And all over the strange 50's style furniture. (Frolicking all over debauchette’s naked body has rekindled my passion for pussy. She’s as beautiful as her writing.)

Welcome filthy fuckers. You're all invited to partake in the new pornographic revolution. We'll be soliciting open calls for contributors in the very near future.

Photo under the desk: Helmut Newton, 1992
Photo on the desk: Saratoga, 2008