Erik Rhodes, a titan of the gay porn industry, passed away in his sleep at the young age of 30, Paper magazine reports.

UPDATE: It appears, after reading Erik Rhodes' blog, that the film star was in a very dark place, openly discussing steroid use—"I’m waiting until i pop. Or my liver to fails… which every comes first."—posting negative emails from readers and seemingly openly courting death with statements and images.

Born in Long Island, New York in 1982, Erik recently celebrated his 30th birthday. Rhodes began his career with Falcon by signing as an Exclusive in September of 2004 at the age of 22, shooting only one scene prior to joining the Falcon team, and he had remained an exclusive ever since. Erik also directed eight Mustang Studios titles during his career. He recently began shooting with Raging Stallion Studios after it merged with Falcon in early 2011. His videography includes over 40 scenes filmed over the last 8 years.

From Paper magazine's website:

We at PAPER were incredibly saddened to learn of the death of our friend, adult-film star Erik Rhodes, who apparently died in his sleep last night. The 30-year-old Long Island-native was a truly hilarious and larger-than-life character as well-known for his wicked sense of humor as he was for his enormous muscles. Rhodes was a legend in the gay adult film world. His fame transcended porn and he did mainstream modeling (famously appearing in an ad for Loehman's department store) and sat front row at the Marc Jacobs fashion show. He was a regular in the pages of PAPER magazine and on PAPERMAG.com, and we'll cherish his hilarious stories that didn't make it to print -- including the one of him losing his virginity at a Mexican restaurant in a strip mall and being served a burrito lunch on the set of his adult film debut. He was a true New York character and we'll miss him like crazy. Read our 2007 feature on Rhodes here.

A statement from San Francisco-based Falcon Studios:
"It is with utmost sadness that we make the announcement of Erik Rhodes' passing. We offer our condolences to Erik's family, friends and loved ones. He was a genuine and caring man with extraordinary attractiveness and a massive muscled frame. Erik was an equally beautiful human being who lit up a room, and brought fun and joy to our studio and his fans that was unparalleled. He was a giving person with a special wit, and he put his all into every performance. He wanted to give his fans the best he could every single time he stepped in front of the camera. Rest in peace, Erik and know that we are celebrating your life and your achievements, but we will miss you and all the special moments you have given us forever."

From porn blogger Jason Sechrest (site NSFW):
if Erik Rhodes had a heart attack, it was because his heart was just too damned big. He saw every person as being far better than he and was gracious to every fan who approached him in a bar, at the airport or on the street.

I remember being in a club one night and he was hiding in a corner by himself, drinking a beer. I spotted him and asked what he was doing here. “What are any of us doing here?” he asked. A fan approached him shortly after to profess his undying love for him and he told the kid, “Look around you. You see all these guys here and you wanna waste your time with me?” The fan begged him to sign an armful of materials and of course eventually he did, posing for pictures and taking nearly 20 minutes to autograph every material the guy had.

He believed very little in himself and was drawn to darkness. Through the years, I ran into him or we’d email and I would try to give him a different outlook or tell him what he was doing wrong in his life. I’d tell him he should learn to love himself or that he should stop doing drugs.

But looking back this morning, Erik didn’t need someone to change him. He was perfect just the way he was.
Never once did I tell him that and I wish I would have.

From Erik Rhodes' blog, posted 2 months ago:

For the first couple months, really up until last week, after my break-up, (which i’m sick talking about) but my strange lifestyle right now seems to be a direct result of it, well, anyways i was abusing Meth… and i mean hard… and since i’m not small boy and i wanna feel my high… i was shooting up syringes full of the shit… .8 - .9…  ask any meth head and they get retarded off .3… but i got myself to the point where if my high didn’t feel like a partial seizure i wasn’t happy with it.

But it was fucking up my body and my brain… so much so that i was placed in Bellevue under 72 hour observation because i was considered a threat to myself and others… police escort, the whole 9 yards… 

Bellevue psychiatric is more like a homeless shelter… i thought it was kinda funny when my bed just happened to be next to the weird guy with a tattoo on his face i see everyday when i buy my fat ass fast food at the Burger King across from Port Authority. I befriend him of course, in a “we are both crazy” non-verbal way… now when i see him i buy him something to eat… i feel like we have some sort of bond…well, maybe not for him…

I mean it was miserable experience but a good in a way because it let me sleep… which was long overdue at that point. I do admit it made me uncomfortable that i felt so comfortable there… But after 48 hours, i did start to feel crazy and tried to convince them to release me… Imagine cornering a psychiatric doctor and telling her “listen i’m not crazy”. The look on her face was priceless… it read… “holy shit, the roided out one crashing on meth is gonna kill me”. Once i could see she was scared, i stood aside and realized that i’m sure everyone of these crazy fucks have probably at one point or another told her the same thing and it was useless getting pissed and talking my way out them holding me… i was just gonna have to ride it out. 

Finally, maybe 70 hours in, i met with a doctor who was gonna be in charge of my release … he basically asked me all questions that i have answered in explicit detail on here… of course without joking about hurting myself or others, which i tend to regularly do… and at the end of it… he says to me “Well James, i don’t think we are going to be able to release you unless we can get someone to collaborate this story”… He didn’t believe me… 

He thought my fucked up life was me play make believe, funny. I relaized he was just sitting there trying to build a case about how crazy i was… he thought the more i talked the more i was digging my grave. 

Since i don’t have many close people in my life, he said he would only consider a release if he talked to my twin brother… which in my eyes was the last option… nothing upsets me more then upsetting my brother. .I know he’s waiting, afraid to get the phone call that i’m dead, i know each time he get a call that i’m in the hospital, his heart sinks in his chests. Anyways, i realized the only other person that he could call would be my ex and given our recent nasty break up, along with paranoia i was convince he would be happy to have me locked away there so my only option was to give him my brother number…

When the Doctor came back in the room, after getting a hold of my brother, the look on his face changed… the stone face he had sat with, for hours grilling me was now replaced by one that just said to me that said he felt sorry for me, he walked to my side and put his hand on my shoulder and said “Its okay, we are gonna help you”… I started to cry.  

It was like my porn career and this blog coming to life… he was so quick to judge but after all was said and done, he saw someone completely different, someone he pitied. 

I claim crashing off meth for getting all emotional… i guess i never saw that type change in person… i wasn’t sure how to handle it. I hope to never have to experience that again. 

Anyways, now thanks to a mandated psychiatric appointment once a week, i’m kinda forced into keeping it clean… well enough within reason that i can pull it together to see this woman. 

I guess its a good thing… its made me refocus my abusive tendancies in other directions…

I thank my ex for the motivation into working on my body… one of the last things he did to me before calling the cops on me the last time i was him, was throw a picture of him and someone guy in my face, from the night of his birthday, a night he said i ruined because we were broken up. He said it was ruined because  he was so upset and  whole family could tell. He even went out of his way to say how he couldn’t even eat his birthday cake, blah blah blah. Well during his tears he ended up on a date with some muscle guy that of course when trying to make me feel like shit he forgot to mention. Anyways, it was such a terrible night that he took pics, well at least the one he threw in my face… I didn’t see the picture well, but it seemed like the guy was bigger than me, puffy, but bigger… Anyways right before he called the cops, he said something to me like “you think your the only hot muscle bottom out there”… not that i think i’m in anyways fully a bottom, or that was what  insulted me, but i just felt like he was saying, “your not good enough” and he could replace me…

So since refocusing my attention, i have used that as my motivation…the words echo threw my head when i’m at the gym… like a challenge… i dont even remember what the guy looked like except i though he might have been bigger, puffy but bigger, LOL… so fuck you, if that can replace me, I CAN DO BETTER… just watch… 

Just watch…

I’m not sure what the goal is, but it surely isn’t to end up where i just was…

And sometime when i been lonely and depressed and the craving for meth is lingering in the back of my head… i think to that last day with my ex, and where i let myself fall apart and i use it as my moviation versus letting it be the thing that tears me down. And its working. Roids, supplements, 2-a-days at the gym… Fuck you meth, fuck you EX, whos name isn’t even worth mentioning anymore, fuck you guy in the picture… i can be better than you all. 

_____________________________________

I started writing this to a guy who asked me about trying Meth for the first time… I was hoping it would be something to change his mind, something to let my failure be his guide and hopefully have him not venture down that road. 

But of course the whole story gets cut apart and i’m made to look like an asshole. I mean i go out of my way to make myself look bad enough only to have headlines written only about the juicy part of the story. Retarded. 

Oh well, whatever sells tickets to the circus.  

PS. I eat at the Carls Jr in SF on the corner of Market and 7th as well. I love threat, the chance of a fight… sure its gross, but honestly what fast food joint is actually clean? So fuck you pussy grow some balls… and if you see my friend with that Tattoo on his face, buy him something to eat, he’s just misunderstood.