Sunday, January 11, 2009

Julie Ellis, I Thought I Knew You

Misunderstanding. Misunderstanding is how I came upon Julie Ellis. I saw pictures of her scene on Blacks on Blondes and mistook her for someone else. Not anyone in particular, but merely the type of woman you only see, if you're lucky, on Burning Angel or Suicide Girls or in some Eon Mckai flick. Aside from those places you'll never see her doing porn, much less IR gangbang.

I'm talking about the pale, sometimes anemic sometimes plump, girl with the 1955 horn rimmed glasses and funky, irreverent tattoos of things like letterpresses and beetles. She spent some time at Sarah Lawrence but couldn't stand the stuck up bitches there and finished out her degree at State. She's currently getting her Masters in Library Science at Columbia. She reads Ayn Rand and laughs. She reads Murakami and cries. She listens to the Minutemen, a lot. You see her pretty often, about twice a month, at punk shows in someone's living room or basement or backyard. You can never talk to her because you're either too drunk to pull it off or your hasty ass is already with someone. And at 3 am when she hops on her bicycle and rides home, you curse yourself for your lack of courage/sobriety/singlehood and hum that Smiths song to yourself.

This is a hypothetical woman, of course. Sometimes my preferences can get insanely specific. It's a wonder how I ever get laid.

You could see my urgency in trying to get a copy of the video. It took a few hours, because it's fairly new. Julie Ellis scenes are hard to come by at all. She's only been in two or three movies. Boy was I in for a surprise.

Maybe I saw what I wanted to see in the pictures. Maybe I was feeling particularly wistful that day, I don't know. But the actual Julie Ellis is a far far cry from my (hypothetical) indie princess.

The scene starts with her walking right through the middle of a dice game. And “walking” would be a kind yet inaccurate way of describing it. It would be fair to say rather that she plopped or clopped, something onomatopoeic that implies a none too graceful animal. The boys seek their revenge by having sex with her. Because that'll show her.

Maybe you knew guys like this. Late in middle school or in high school. I doubt you'll run across them in college, not that they're dumb but they have different priorities in life. But you'll hear a persistent rumor that they ran a train on a retarded girl. I've asked around. A surprising amount people know guys like these. And the guys, if they admit to it, which they rarely do, they'll say it was because she was there; she probably galumphed through their dice game.

And the girl's not like retarded retarded. She doesn't ride the short bus and she's in the same classes as the rest of us. But she doesn't quite act her age, she has trouble with the big words, her face is a little more slack than it should be. and she can be easily talked into things. Julie Ellis is that girl.

And I watched the whole scene. And loved it. Because something's wrong with me.

I rationalized it at first by saying to myself, that I spent all that time and effort looking for it might as well watch it. So what if you wouldn't even look in her direction IRL. Then the reason, after the stroke session went underway, became that from the neck down, she looks like someone I've been with. A strange thing is that as I grow older porn becomes less about unattainable fantasy and more about rekindling of memory.

But rationalized all I did the fact remained that at the end of the day, it was really about the intersection of three things, two of which I feel ashamed for liking: Ugly Girl Porn, IR, and Gangbang.

I sigh, and gripe, and bitch, but I'll probably watch it again before the month is over.

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