People tell me that everyone meditates. I think that maybe I meditate by watching porn. Is that a good way of meditating? No. But it’s what happens. I find that porn calms me, even centers me. That’s probably not true, but it certainly feels that way. At the very least, it feels that way right before I watch porn—a sure sign of addiction.

For the record, I only very rarely masturbate to porn. I find that particular physical act tends to ruin the experience. Watching porn with the intent to masturbate absolutely ruins it. When I sit down for a session, I am looking for something else, something more than a quick cumshot. What would that be? I’m not quite sure, I have to admit. That is another sign of addiction: the chasing of a dream or a sensation that you cannot quite place or remember. The desire for something wonderful that you may or may not have had before. You know when you are close to it, when that perfect moment is right around the corner. But it always seems to go away.

I suppose heroin addicts would say the same thing. They might even say that heroin is their meditation.

In the end, the ritual becomes trying to believe that the perfect feeling is just around the corner. You want to feel like you’re close for as long as possible, since on some level, you know you’ll never actually arrive. But you can pleasantly deceive yourself into thinking it will arrive, and if you manage to make it feel like it will arrive for longer than ever before, that’s all the better. With the help of certain drugs, I have made it feel like the absolute best porn ever will be the next one I click for five hours. That is my record.

For that period of time, things are quite blissful. If you don’t care for porn, or are simply unfamiliar with it, think of it another way. Imagine you knew that you were about to watch what would become your favorite movie. Somehow, you knew that the next movie you saw was going to be far better than any other movie you’d ever seen. Try and focus on the excitement of it. Picture your favorite movie and then multiply its quality by three. And most importantly—since it is certain that you will see it soon—waiting is no big deal. You become comfortably excited. You get to ride the wave of the excitement. Think of what it would be like to feel that excited for five hours. Might those five hours be better than the movie itself? Could you get so wrapped up in the excitement that the actual arrival of the movie began to fade in importance?

It’s like that. Watching porn is mostly just waiting for the next porno you watch to be better than the one you’re watching, but in a good way. You know the next one will be better, so the wait is pleasant. More than pleasant: the wait is divine.

But I rarely think about this process while it’s happening, which figures. Folks don’t think about meditating while meditating, do they?

Obviously, quite a bit of my mind focuses on the porn itself. I decided to watch porn as I wrote this, so I’ll provide very recent examples:

  • I love this girl’s nails.
  • I am surprised a bigger deal wasn’t made out of her going ass-to-mouth. Does that mean it’s getting normalized?
  • I cannot figure out if her tattoos are tacky in a bad way, tacky in a good way, or tacky in a neutral way. She has little paw prints on her tits, a weird circle around her navel, big angel wings on her back, and a Playboy bunny icon on her leg. In writing it all out, I think they’re tacky in a good way.
  • The facial was weak. I always find that really disappointing. Like with everything, ending on a high note is important.

That represents the “porn track” of my mind while I’m watching it. Another important one is the life track. I have the immense misfortune of not being able to stop thinking about personal conflicts past, present, and future during around 100 percent of my waking hours. It is unbearable, and I suspect it will one day kill me. This track does not stop while I watch porn, but it becomes less jarring. When the thoughts come as I’m watching, it is almost as if they are the very real problems of someone else. They are still problems—sad ones—but they lose their biting edge. It is a very nice break. Again, these examples are from the current moment, as I’ve been writing this and watching this porn.

I think my relationship with my mother is at its breaking point. I am old enough now to no longer believe things will get better. I’m an adult; this is just the way things are. She hates all my life choices and we have nothing in common. There isn’t much getting around that. A break will come—a permanent one—and soon.

“M” has not responded to my email. We dated years ago and she hates me perhaps more than any other human on the planet. I wrote to her saying I was sorry and that I should have treated her better (i.e. not cheated on her). I wish I could just know that she got it. Maybe that’s narcissistic, but it would mean a lot to me if people who have wronged me in the past just suddenly admitted it some time. Well, whatever.

All of these thoughts were cut off by the porn and the porn track that came with it. The scene has changed, and it’s a very good threesome with Manuel Ferrara and two bombshells. Ferrara is fucking one on a couch, and they’re both somewhat on their sides. The other girl (Tori Black) crawls up next to/on top of her and slaps her across the face as she’s getting fucked. Miss Black does this repeatedly, but takes care to lengthily pause between each slap so the other girl can revel in it. And the other girl does. She moans orgasmically after each slap as she gently rocks from Ferrara’s pumps. It is fucking hot. I have never seen this exactly, and I like it quite a bit. Porn binges are all about those new things you discover that you have never seen before and just love. All of sex is so simple and so obvious, yet it is only porn that keeps successfully reinventing the wheel.

Mind you, I am not hard. Porn no longer really does that for me unless I consciously let it. I just like it; porn, that is. Porn is just enjoyable on some level outside of my own libido. Admittedly, the truth of that statement has limits: I cannot watch gay porn for very long without losing interest, and porn starring only ugly people (which is a more common occurrence than you might think) repels me almost immediately. But all the same, my enjoyment of porn rests outside my desire to cum to a much greater extent than everyone else’s. For the record, I do not know why, so don’t ask.

Porn distracts better than anything else, and good porn—such as what I am watching now—distracts exceptionally well. These bodies I am witnessing are so good, so beautiful, and so “in action.” It’s irresistible. The long brown hair, the clean-cut pussies, the licked assholes, the coordination, the stamina, the ecstatic joyful noise. I could go on and on, but you either get it or you don’t. The most similar sensation to when you’re fully immersed in porn is when you are on ecstasy or strong hallucinogens. It’s a feeling of harmony on another plane. This plane is close to our world, within reach and visible, but just a little bit above it. A place like our home, but better. Everything recognizable but improved, and with every moving part in sync. A world like a puzzle—

Right now, one girl is deepthroating Manuel Ferrara while Miss Black is on all fours in the background shaking her ass so that it “claps.” Her asshole is visible for one second and then covered the next in rapid, repeating succession. Miss Black is looking over her shoulder as she does this, looking at the camera, which is both me and us. This way, in one frame, I (and us) am seeing a beautiful face blow a beautiful cock, plus another beautiful face with a knowing expression, plus an ass and an asshole teasing me. And all of these moving parts fit together so well. They are all apart but all working—and existing—as one. It’s too much. Also, the double facial just happened. Unlike the last scene, it did not disappoint. They are cum-swapping and making out now. They are professionals, so they are fondling one and another’s breasts and fingering each other too, as they make out with the cum. It’s great. So great. I wish you were watching this with me—no homo—just to share in the magnificence of it. Of course it’s no homo, right? I’m not even jerking off, not even hard.

Anyway, as I was saying: good porn is like good acid. Both create (or arguably, display) the antonym of a simulacrum: a representation/copy of our world, but a bit better and sometimes immensely better. A world of A to Z in elegant calligraphy instead of our dull Helvetic QWERTY keyboards. Everything is suddenly better and more flawlessly synchronized and connected. And just as with hallucinogens, one gets bowled over by the beauty and synergy of it all. It overwhelms you, engulfs you, and you feel momentarily enlightened. Maybe not “enlightened” as in you have all the answers, but “enlightened” in the sense that you become at peace. You feel serene. You lose yourself and become one with the feeling that hit you as everything else—problems and terrestrial concerns—become far away all of a sudden.

This happened to me a few moments ago, for the last four or five minutes of the last scene. It’s wearing off now, but still somewhat with me: if I were on shrooms, I would say “I’m coming down.” If you are asking why I don’t simply take more hallucinogens instead of watching porn, the answer should be obvious. Hallucinogens last for at least six hours. Sometimes they last twice that. And I certainly cannot quietly trip on mushrooms alone in my room after work without disturbing my roommates. I cannot trip for five quick minutes through my phone while I am stuck in traffic. Porn is much less of a commitment.

It is possible that this is a cry for help, but maybe not. Every addict loves their drug, except when they don’t, of course. Right now, as I write this while I watch scene three in this sitting, I absolutely love it. It feels good, great. More than anything else right now, I just want to share the feeling. Jordan B. Peterson, if you’re real, can you please explain this all back to me? This very sentence took a long time to bang out because I am getting entranced again. Ferrara is back, this time with only one woman. I really love her belt. It is plastic gold and is the only thing she’s wearing, aside from jewelry. It is exactly the right kind of tacky: tacky like Evel Knievel and Las Vegas are tacky. He is fucking her in the ass right now while his hand forces her hand to her throat. That perfectly kitsch belt is bouncing in tune with her sodomizing and I love it. Everything is falling into place now. What I’m watching is like our world, but so much better…

***

“What Do I Think About While Watching Porn?” is an excerpt from Richard Power’s new memoir, Letters from a Heartbroken Pervert. You can purchase the book from Terror House Press here.

Letters from a Heartbroken Pervert