Archive for the 'escort life' Category

23
Nov
17

#Metoo and three and four…reprogramming the Matrix you are running in

17880652_10210868124692387_453721393325343523_oI mark the end of my time as an escort at 4.5 years ago now.  When I recap the story that I speak to audiences it goes like this “I was chasing a drug addict client down the street with a stun gun the week I met Destin Gerek, the life coach who got me into Tantra.”  The longer version of that story which I spare the public is that this same fucker once pushed me against the wall and pulled a box cutter on me and whipped his dick out and tried to masturbate on or for me just weeks before me chasing him down the street.   He had been calling my work phone for fake appointments stalking me with a phone number blocker so that each time I blocked him he could call with a different number to repeat his behavior, which happened at least twice before the stun gun chasing incident.  This last incident of running down the street after him, i was taking matters into my own hands because I knew that was the only justice i might be able to get, and I was determined to try to end the madness “by any means necessary,” which was the whore revolutionary mantra inspired by Malcolm X and other revolutionaries.  And yes, I did actually boldly go to the police, to the exact same station that I spent the one night in jail for prostitution to report this man, but it didn’t go well, because all I remember is storming out and jumping in my car to try to find this man by cruising the street clandestinely on in the vicinity the attack just occurred.   I had been seriously training in Krav Maga for over 4 years at that time to help disperse misogynistic energy and protect me from the cycle of violence that I was in.  I had earned a confidence in my physical ability to hold my own.  How did I begin taking Krav Maga for the first time?  A poorly screened client and I had an altercation at my house where I was massaging him, I sprayed him with pepper spray and he didn’t falter, he backed slowly down the stairs (which I should have kicked him down as I have a neck breaking staircase, but as I said I’m not naturally a violent person and I was too scared and traumatized to do much more than I did). He slashed the tires of my car in front of my house to let me know that he had returned once, but thankfully that was the end of me and him.  This was probably more than 7 years ago now, but just recalling it still brings chills to type.  And taking Krav Maga surely helped put me on a strong kick ass warrior path until one of my favorite instructors tried to pull my pants down suddenly during a fight drill in class (i did file admin charges on him with the school’s high ups, hold an admin meeting with all of us after that incident and I did NOT quit the school or training, i just never took his class again).  So while all of the things that have happened to me while I was a sex worker are bad and difficult to recall, there were things that happened to me that could have happened to anyone, and are in fact all part of the same disease that our society is fighting off collectively in the light right now.  I have never been a violent person.  But some things, especially if repeated can bring out the MONSTER in me, or anyone for that matter.  These things that channel the Aileen Wuornos spirit to gnarl its Kali Ma destructive force at all of the collective perpetration of all goddesses in the world.  You want to be the next person to violate me, you need to know that I will reflect your bullshit back at you in SOME FORM and not wait ten years to do so to speak my truth.  

It took its toll on me as a warrior in the battle, as a victim, as a survivor, as a student who looked up to her favorite instructor, as a 15 year old office worker, as a 17 year old, a 19 year old and more, yes me too, yes me three and four and more. There are so many incidents of sexual assault and violence in my life that I don’t even count individual incidents or people because it doesn’t serve me or anyone to do that, it is all one long continuum that did not stop until I made a radical spiritual evolution and jumped out of the matrix that I was in and received a new program from the Universe.  Very much like Neo, as he comes into consciousness and gains more martial arts skills but still his enemy Agent Smith multiplies and becomes stronger and seemingly invincible, I felt like I had no choices so I dove deeper into the depths of fire because I was so sick of living in this pattern of repetition that I felt I had no control over (even attempted seemingly suicidal decisions, put myself in death’s way, tried to become a drug addict myself but it didn’t take to me) before emerging into peace. AAEAAQAAAAAAAATFAAAAJGI4YzVlZmUzLWZkZmEtNGZlNS04NzZlLTFkNDUzYTE5NjZkYg

Realizing my power was not about making my physical body stronger or my warrior aura more protected or indifferent, that was me as Neo, trying all the ways I could muster to impossibly to bend the spoon.  ‘Do not try and bend the spoon, that’s impossible. Instead, only try to realize the truth…there is no spoon. Then you’ll see that it is not the spoon that bends, it is only yourself.’

 

29
Oct
17

When Theft of Services Equals Rape and When Reframing is Better than Blaming and Going Aileen Wuornos on a Motherfucker

Amidst the #metoo incidents of Hollywood sexual violence I am working as a Love goddess in Seattle, doing my best to fundraise some lost income and property that got stolen out of a car in Los Angeles because I was negligent. It’s my third time to work as a Tantra practitioner in Seattle, every time I have come, it’s been a great, profitable and life changing experience. And again it did not fail me. I was fortunate enough to see more clients in two weeks than I had the opportunity to see in Japan all year since, in Japan, I don’t get to have the same type of business model as I used to when I worked in the U.S so it is always a great opportunity to brush up my skills and work on lots of new seekers bodies. I’ve been working as a professional goddess for over four years now, evolved and inclusive of the seventeen years of total work history in the field of sexuality. 7 of these years I was an escort and a self proclaimed whore revolutionary sex worker activist. In the seven years that I worked, fought, spoke for and rallied with fellow sex workers I became immersed in the ideology and framework of the movement and it became the passion that woke me up in the morning and fueled me through the sometimes grueling and dangerous profession that I called my job. I have since then been extremely happy to have moved beyond all of it without entirely closing the door to how it formed me as the LOVE WORKER that writes this blog now. I tell my seekers that call my phone that Tantra is not just a catchphrase i put in my ad, and i that love is not just a euphemism for fuck or happy ending, i actually genuinely, spiritually, fully engage in LOVE MAKING and sharing with clients which usually does not include intercourse or any of the standard acronyms of prostitution that many men on Backpage might be familiar with (GFE, BBBJ, etc).  And amazing people pay me great money for it as well.  But, because of my vast history, i’m aware of what they might be referring to and can lovingly redirect them to a referral who would better serve their needs.

In order to book an appointment, I require a small deposit to show me that the seeker is serious. This time, upon suggestion from another sex worker, i try to use G**gleWallet to accept my deposit. I usually require just $50 which goes towards the session and I didn’t think twice when the client wanted to send $250 instead of $50. I get an email from G**gle that says,”$250 is being deposited into your bank account.” which means to me as a business owner that I can feel safe to facilitate a paid session.

I saw him the next morning and collected the balance in cash and proceeded to create my 2 hour of magic and love. There was nothing suspicious or ingenuine about this client, we had a beautiful session, I tapped into his God energy and everything ended in a beautiful way.

Sometime in the next day, I am checking my bank balance and realizing that the money hasn’t hit and then I call the company to check and see if there is a delay for some reason. Ggle tells me that the sender can actually cancel the payment even after the email that they sent me has been sent. They tell me that this service is not a safe way to collect money from strangers off the internet and that it should only be used for friends and family (as if friends and family never rip people off).

7 years of being a vengeful, righteous whore revolutionary rose up from the fire of my root to the top of my consciousness and i remembered all the times as a sex worker that i had been ripped off and shorted by escort clients. I was mostly surprised that i was being confronted with these feelings when the way that i had constructed my life, the decisions i made, the clients that i chose and who chose me, the work that i did, the vibration was supposed to be all different now. But, I had gotten ripped off in a similar way from a Tantra coaching client in May whom i had coached for several hours too long for no promised pay received. My live work roommate in Seattle had just talked to me about a time when she was working in New York City and a similar thing had happened and she had “felt raped’ and couldn’t work the rest of her tour because she just felt extremely depressed and violated. I had just read a blog by Lily Fury explaining why she had recently created a devastating fundraising fraud upon the sex worker community all in an attempt to get a bad client blacklisted for what she felt was rape and not theft of services. “he was a client who had shortchanged me (that is, had raped me) when I was desperate after just getting out of jail.” Sex workers and women in general have righteous anger and history about rape and sexual violence not being named for what it is and not being punished equally or justly, so it seems in retaliation to the systems that have failed and ignored them, many of them seem to have started using the words theft of services and rape interchangeably. Since leaving the sex worker rights movement about two years ago to focus on spiritual sexual self growth and other community frameworks, the thing that has stood out to me most, the thing that I was also guilty of was that self determined sex workers HATE being called victims, unless it is them doing the victim name calling on their own situations. (To be cont)

02
Nov
16

To Whore or Not to Whore Part 2

Survival sex work doesn’t take thought in the same way that blocking a punch coming at your face is an instinctual move for most. Taking the time to assess whether you can meet your basic needs in other ways is comparable to the thought process of assessing why you even had to block a punch to the face in the first place.  This is the art part of martial arts. It is different from “self defense.” I was indeed a front line soldier for many years, so self defense was necessary but “it (to be in the war, to fight, to survive, to struggle)”, I learned, like everything was ALSO a choice. 

If you are doing survival sex work you are not in control of the working conditions or clients and it is often an act of desperation not empowerment.  The funny thing is when I called myself a “whore revolutionary,” I also referred to my work as a matter of survival NOT choice.  I empowered myself in my survival versus my choice, I likened myself to a suicide bomber in an occupation I inherited.  It was a slippery slope, and I predictably slipped to surrender to the greater elements constantly wearing me down, including mainly my own thinking around these issues, which I was not ready to admit until I was ready to submit.


Sex work is ONLY empowering when you WANT TO DO IT and you get to do it HOW and WHEN YOU WANT to do it.  


When I am working online looking for jobs and opportunities in Japan that I can do without a visa, I look for hours on craigslist.  Just like any metropolitan city craigslist there are ads for adult video models and escorts and various other things in the sex industry.  I shoot off emails with sexy photos to see what kind of entity i’m working with, whether or not they will actually respond and if they can tempt me further.  Every month living in Japan and paying rent is a challenge for me. I don’t go out and party much because of my limited income, i don’t get to go to a lot of basic social things in the center of the city like a Japanese or boxing class because traveling there requires $10 on the train and usually whatever cost of the event and a meal or two.  I imagine myself living under a bridge with the other homeless in Japan or trying to live in a shelter of some kind with all my huge piles of luggage and my guitar.  I wrack my brain trying to market all the different skills i have in the different sections of jobs offered. I am a freelance writer, i can teach English, i can teach Tantra to groups and individuals, i can do things in food service, I am great with children…Is it really time to pull out the goddess standards and make my money by any means necessary? I meditate on it.


One of my first Tantra clients in Tokyo paid my regular rate for a non intercourse, energy based session. I thought he would be a repeat client, we seemed to hit it off well. I kept in contact with him for a couple months while I travelled and upon returning back to Tokyo I asked him if he wanted another Tantra session. It seemed he wanted more than I was willing to offer as thegoddess.  He wanted an escort. After a long annoying conversation, he ended it with, “Give me a call if you ever decide you want to escort again. Ganbatte (good luck).”  Normally I would have instantly deleted his contact, but i kept it like it was an EMERGENCY CONTACT because I knew that maybe that day in Japan would come and I might have to call him up and give him the date I wasn’t willing to give that day. I had already been to his upscale high rise apartment and knew some of his story, so, it would be a safe person to escort with if that day ever did need to come.  

I had started a crowd fundraiser to pay rent but also entitled a VIBE RAISER so that I could RAISE THE VIBRATION of my potential, of my possibilities, to remind me of the work I was brought to do in Japan.  I sent off a quick message to him and he was less than friendly in his response. I reminded him of his escorting proposal some months ago. I was cold and detached and removed from my body. Totally opposite of thegoddess in the VIBERAISER video singing and asking a crowd of followers to help support her mission.


“Is that offer still on the table?” I messaged.

We proceeded to engage in a long detailed negotiation about what I would and wouldn’t do for how much.  These kinds of conversations I hadn’t had in years as a goddess but that I was relegating myself to for SURVIVAL. I was swallowing my pride and willing myself to take it because it wasn’t going to be so bad and all these other reasons.  He seemed surprised that I even had a right to any boundaries or respect, though I had taught him how to honor me as a goddess before, he seemed to forget it all. He even asked “So why have you decided to call me now?” These types of emotionally triggering questions, that in my past I would answer with frank fearlessness. But I knew better than to bite the hand before it fed me.  “So, you need support?” he asked. “I need a client.” I answered stoicly, trying hard to bite my tongue and stay in the safety zone. “Isn’t that the same thing?” “NO.” I said without elaboration.  My coldness of heart made even me shudder.  I knew it would be the same when I saw him, which would make me likely a terrible lover when and if the time came. i resented him so much and his line of questioning, his arrogance, his lack of Godliness. i resented that I was even asking, that I had to constrict my soul so much to have a basic negotiation conversation. I hadn’t felt like that in years.  I went lap swimming to change my energy and do some moving meditation. i asked the Universe,”Is this REALLY what I am supposed to be doing here? Is this the answer you are giving me now?” Swimming. Swimming. Meditating. Moving.

The next day said client texted after all of what I felt to be painful negotiation that my rate for escorting (seen as more than the session completed before for the same price) was too much. Ended with another Good Luck to you.

I rejoiced. DELETED his messages and number and proceeded to remove that plan from my consciousness. it was a valiant effort.  I was not sure HOW a solution would replace this, but I was 1000% sure that HE was not offering any part of it.

I did another VIBERAISER/FUNDRAISER video without alluding to any of that interaction. I was ready to trust in new solutions instead of relegate to ones that I had known before.

Later that evening, a friend who had actually “broken up” with me randomly messages thru Facebook. “Hey, Im starring in a music video tonite in Shibuya. We need an Asian woman to wear a G string and play a prostitute in a hotel room with a Yakuza gangster. It pays $275 (my fundraiser goal was $500) if you can get down here in a couple hours.”

YES. YES. YES. YES. Y.  E.  S!!!!!!

VIBERAISER SUCCESS. Intentions heard thru the world in loud, magnificent volumes.

YOU ARE NO LONGER MEANT TO BE A WHORE.

 But all your experiences in life will put you in the greatest position to capitalize where others dare not enter, because they could not even imagine where you’ve been.

THIS WAS the Real WHORE REVOLUTIONARY not ANY of that shit I was doing before.  I never again have to question if that day will come in Japan, because it already did and thegoddess levitated above it all. 

01
Jul
11

Whatever it is I am meant to be Doing Right Now, it can be an extreme challenge at times, but I think I feel like I am doing it.

In 2006, I graduated from UCLA with a Masters Degree.  I was in the home stretch of a period of the hardest academic and emotional work that I had done in my life.  Writing a 30 page Masters Inquiry thesis that you put together for almost an entire year, writing, revising and editing while simultaneously working as a first year teacher.  Phew.  I could not WAIT to cross the stage, get my paper and take off my cap and gown into my new freedom.  I wasn’t going to graduate and join the workin ranks of education, I was going to QUIT right after that semester and be HAPPY as HELL about it all!!  This move was to the disdain of a few, but I had proved to myself, my family (though they didn’t really notice) that I could achieve normal status and credibility in the normal world.  I had my first full time salaried job with benefits.  I was in charge of hundreds of students over the years.  I had successfully carved a path for myself, if I wanted to take it.  I had a great teaching career, a great apartment, security, paycheck…what was missing?  MY SOUL. That’s what.

I ACTUALLY SELL THEM FOR $50 + S&H http://www.facebook.com/asianprincessartifacts

It took me 3 years pursuing education and teaching and neglecting art making to realize that my soul consists not of teaching or serving the community, but it consists of MAKING AND SHOWING MY ART.  Singing, creating visual pieces, writing, speaking, performing…If all I wanted to do with my life was to be a teacher and die, I had achieved it.  It was the most difficult path in itself, as I chose to be placed in the most at risk schools in LA and SF.  I saw it as doing my time in the WAR AGAINST EDUCATION and I put in my time, I even got a short haircut.   Now it was time for me to return home away from that war and be an artist again.

I was determined now to travel the world as an artist and activist and fully experience life.  Also, I wanted to get my SEXY back which somehow along the way, I had lost in the name of achieving my normal status.  I worked hard like a good workaholic.  I woke up at 6am and went to bed at midnight.  Before I moved to LA for grad school, I was exactly what I am now: a full time artist and full time sex worker.  But, a part of me always wondered constantly WHY I never got the jobs I wanted, if I was only good at doing sex work jobs, if i was STUCK.  It seemed like the one of the things that I seem to excel in is SCHOOL.  I am an excellent student and a pretty damn good teacher, it seems.  I am great at school and I can teach YOU too to excel in school, but I am unsure whether that is really the key to success and happiness for all.  I did above the bare minimum, wayy beyond what was expected and more, which in any districts eyes was successful.  As long as you had your grades at the end of each semester, you’ve fulfilled your legal requirement.  It was the perfect job for someone who has trouble working under direct supervision of bosses.

SOLO SHOW SPONSORED BY THE MAKERS AND SMOKERS OF CRACK…

“Hellloooo?  You’re a prostitute!” a family member said recently,”Are we supposed to want to tell our friends that?” she said.  Well, I guess you can lie, or you can tell them, I’m an artist.  A singer.  A theatrical performer.  An organizer.  A writer.  A woman who makes the media include her voice by being interviewed for sex worker editorials all over the U.S: a media maker.  Maybe you can tell them I just had an interview published in a new South End Press anthology called “The Revolution Starts at Home.”  Maybe you could open your eyes and think of something good to say…

I love my LinkedIn profile actually.  I work on it a lot and update it.  I have created a name for Mariko Passion over the years and I have worked hard for every single achievement.  Hungry for more.  much much more.  I just realized that I have only had the Mariko Passion persona for LESS THAN five years.  I have to be proud of all the things I’ve done and gotten to do, as a direct result of my decision to be a WHORE/ARTIST!  There are so many people who are constantly cutting down the tall poppy.  It’s a constant battle!  But, I’ve found that my SSRIs are still doing their job and my moods are more stabilized than my income lately, and that has been a HUGE part of being able to RESIST criticism.  I asked my REAL friends to make themselves known to me and they seemed to emerge out of the darkness one by one.  I called a family meeting, asking essentially for more compassion and caring.  It turned into a barrage of bad news for me meeting, I thought but I think I can see some progress in our communication…

Somehow, in the days before I left, there was an interesting client, a crack addict who pretty much shall I say SPONSORED my trip to San Francisco so I could run my one woman show there for the week.  I did get an honorarium from the Sex Workers Art Festival but I was set to leave to Chicago to do my comedy improv training and I wasn’t quite sure where I was going to get the money for that.  If it was meant to happen, it would happen.  And it DID.  All in the nick of time and as if it were somehow fated by a higher power.  Here comes a crackhead who wants to drop a bunch of money on me so that I can now purchase my plane tickets and maybe some hotel nights on the next leg of my tour!  Thank you Crack Cocaine!  Thank you U.S government for making it!  This is why I love Michelle Tea’s book RENT GIRL so much.  I can really relate to the sex work in it.  It’s not Tracy Quan’s Manhattan or Jetsetting Call girl, though I can relate to some of those types of clients as well, it was gritty grimy indoor rent girl prostitution w/ drug addicts and the often other misfits of society.  they call me for companionship and I oblige, but only for a high price.  With this crackhead, I was counting the minutes on my phone clock tick tick away.  I was sooo bored.  I wasn’t smoking crack.  I was texting my friends trying to entertain myself during this jail sentence like silent escort session.  He was pretty non functional because he was so high, but that didn’t stop me from brining him back to reality when the time was up to collect my hourly fee.  I stayed for 3 hours and could have stayed for more but I was literally going CRAZY of boredom and wanted to run out into the streets and just inhale the clean outdoor air as I left.  I didn’t feel like I was a loser, I felt like I was a WINNER!  Just in the nick of time, as a lot of things like this in my life happen to be. I now had enough money to do my San Francisco tour stop and not have to worry about working that week while I performed in the festival and I would be able to buy my plane tickets to Chicago and NYC.  Blessings.  Someone needs to show these guys a “good” time. LOL.  I cross paths with these parasites who don’t have any money.  Just drugs and usually a bunch of lies.  When I got back to LA, I hit up this same crackhead client.  He didn’t have any cash this time, just a gold necklace with diamonds that seemed like a real piece of expensive jewelry but I wasn’t in the business of pawning jewelry.  I do barter for product but only for tips.  Unless I am sure of the value of what I am bartering.  I’ve made this mistake tooo many times in my life.  I went to the garage to get some cash out of S’s car.  He drove a really nice, clean and new SUV.  A 50K car for sure.  I had no sympathy for him.  I decided the torture of being his companion was only worth it for lots of cash and if he didn’t have any of that, I was leaving.  Maybe the necklace was worth a lot of money, I just didn’t want to do it for anything less than a pile of money.  Sorry.  I gave him his necklace back and stayed around for 30 more minutes in exchange for $140 I found in his car.  Thanks for sponsoring my tour earlier, cracker jack, call me when you have more MONEY.  He let me sketch him and take these pictures.  His poses weren’t as good this time though.   I didn’t tell him I was going to blog about it though.  I don’t have to, in my opinion.  My experiences and blog posts are MINE.  If you recognize yourself, GOOD.  If you don’t like what you read you can request to have me change it, but it might make things worse.  Our interaction creates a REACTION in me that I have to express creatively.  I cannot keep all of these juicy experiences to myself.  It is what fuels my fire.

 My life is ART, ART is my life.

When I was in Chicago and NYC I filled my days with training, performance and viewing other artist’s work.  Scheming about bringing my show to Chicago and NYC.  Networking and connecting with people.  Posting up backpage ads and trying to make enough money to keep eating and travelling.  It works perfectly sometimes.  It’s difficult at times but when it works so well, it is really really nice.  Its been FIVE YEARS since I graduated, quit teaching and decided i would pursue my art full time.  I got sidetracked for THREE YEARS while running SWOP-LA full time and doing art/performance only part time, but now that SWOP-LA is no longer in the picture, it is a blessing in disguise and I have only my art to dedicate myself to.  It is what I was supposed to be doing in the first place.  I think I just got scared and tried to do something practical, like direct a non profit.  But, according to some, I FAILED.  LOL.  Thanks for your words and hallucination of friendship and support BITCHES.  Now I can go back to making ART.

CRACK makes you act STRANGE!

he tried to give me this Gold and Diamond necklace as collateral for an overnight date. LOL. Do i look like a PAWN SHOP?

this is him looking kind of normal, but he would POSE for at least 15 seconds in these wonderfully contorted facial expressions over and over throughout his session

13
Apr
11

Fear and Loathing in Palm Springs

APRIL 1, 2011

At first it was all pink when I closed my eyes, psychedelic pink and red shapes dancing and morphing to the bass thumping of pop music…it was going to be okay I thought…I used that to take my mind off the nausea in my stomach, the inflammation and feeling of swelling in my chest as I lay in the 104 degree desert sun in a lawn chair by the pool at the free party on Friday of Dinah Shore’s annual big girl party…

This is a lesbian event. I can sit here looking damn good in a bikini all day and be assured that not a single female would approach me, even if I wasn’t sick and feeling like I was going to die…it’s just not the way mainstream queer girls operate. They rarely step to you, especially if you don’t make eye contact. A man on the other hand will step to a woman in a bikini even if she is passed out and lying in her own vomit and urine, without a doubt.

Dinah is not really a drug friendly environment. Gay girls don’t do drugs the way the gay boys do. This is a drinkers hey day full of a wide spectrum of different BLTQ girls from alll over the country celebrating their love for each other and celebrating with mostly overpriced drinks in plastic cups. I’ve had a similar experience happen at Burningman, stumbled into a strangers camp and was given plenty of water, love, compassion, an RV to rest in, support and safety. Dinah was no Burningman, even if it was just as hot there.

I sat up because I had difficulty breathing. It was hot out here but I was cold. I felt both of my hands and they were cold. I moved the fingers around and circulated the blood vigorously. Was this a real emergency or the drugs I was on? i was pretty sure I knew what cold hands felt like, and I was confident I was experiencing asthma sickness and allergies from the house of 5 dogs that we slept at the night before. My inhalers weren’t working that well anymore. I had to pace them out. Even as I puffed twice on one, the tightness in my chest didn’t go away very much. I was having an asthma attack on mushrooms by the pool at a club event. Weeeeeeeeeeee

At one point I put myself into the swimming pool and got wet. i held on to the ledge and played with the water. I COULD NOT AND DID NOT WANT TO TALK TO ANYONE THERE. They would never understand.
I was feeling sick to my stomach like I was going to throw up. Shrooms. How awful would it be to be the bitch who throws up in the pool at the party and has to be rushed out to the hospital? Was that going to be me today? I got out of the pool and went to the bathroom. The wet floor was covered in dirt and puddles that were moving and flowing, breathing better than i was at the moment. I didn’t feel comfortable taking up the stall which always had a line and yaking my gutts out. I just didn’t. The drugs had made me so full of anxiety over every move I made that I could only manage to urinate. At least I didn’t just pee on myself. When I throw up I pee on myself. It’s a muscle spasm thing. I held it together enough to not do either. Very good.

“Hey Mariko!” said one acquaintance whom I knew from an event we did together recently in LA. “Do you remember me?” she said
“no, I’m sorry..” I said eyes welling up with tears wanting her to take some action to help me help myself…
“How are you doing?” she said.
“Not good at all….” I said exposing my eyes behind my sunglasses and showing her that I was crying now. “I took too many mushrooms and I have really severe asthma. I feel like I am going to die and I don’t know if this is a real emergency enough to call 911. I mean, I think that I am ok, but I”m not sure…”
she kept smiling at me but I could tell she had no idea what to say or do.
“Look, just do me a favor and keep looking over here and see if I am alive or not will you?” I said and flopped down back to laying on my side in the recliner. I think she walked off then, I’m not sure…

I was having asthma problems all night. It was NOT just the shrooms.. The A/C in this chic’s house wasn’t on and the stillness of the air is a slow death to the asthmatic. FIVE DOGS. no air circulation. sleeping on the allergen filled couch. I was trying to sleep, trying not to disturb, waking up frequently to use my inhalers, to suck on cough drops to avoid coughing and waking people in the house…miserable. Even before I took any drugs, I was having trouble breathing. Something had happened to swell my respiratory tract from sleeping at that house and I couldn’t breathe that well even as we left to drive to the party and shop and socialize at the coffee shop and liquor store.

Its the first of the month and you haven’t paid your rent. Why are you trying to go to Dinah Shore anyway?
Well the plan was to place ads in Palm Springs and make some money to party in Palm Springs to get my mind off of some of the recent trauma and finnancial set backs being an indy escort has caused. It seemed like a good plan. It had always worked for me before. Throw up some ads and even if I only make $200 that would be enough to float me for the weekend til I got home. But things in LA had not been so great either. 10-14 days would go by with only $1-300 income which was not enough to pay my basic living expenses and run my escort business. Near two weeks with barely any customers will injure most business models.

I had visions of getting a Prednisone shot and being hooked up to a respirator and how much better I would feel…
I CAN’T AFFORD AN EMERGENCY ROOM VISIT. I AM UNINSURED AND MY RENTS NOT PAID. BUT WHAT IF YOU DIE HERE? YOU COULD FUCKING DIE HERE AT DINAH SHORE IN THIS CHAIR AND NOT ONE BITCH WOULD EVEN KNOW UNTIL IT WAS TOO LATE.
I laid down on my side in my pool chair, crying my eyes out behind my sunglasses for hours, just hoping time would pass and no one would bother me. I would be less high and more functional and I would be able to just deal with the real problems of my sickness and my real problem of paying my rent.

A cute girl is useless to me if I can’t fucking breathe and I’m about to be homeless. I closed my eyes because opening them at times was too scary. I’d try to relax and focus on a hot chic but then after 5 seconds I would feel nauseous again and want to throw up so I kept them closed…

My poverty and sickness.
SOCIAL POVERTY.
I was alone at this party because it was the free pool party and the other pool party cost $40. I was trying to save money. This party WAS just as good as the other one anyway.
NO ONE KNOWS OR CARES ABOUT WHAT YOU ARE GOING THROUGH.
Your friends are not really your friends. You have no real friends.
An emergency room visit is probably going to cost you $2000 and then you will really not be able to pay your rent. You won’t die but you’ll get evicted.

I didn’t want to get up because i was afraid that I would look and be too messy and just fall on the floor, security would call the ambulance and that would be an extra expense that I couldn’t afford. this was a true American anxiety of the uninsured. What if I was Canadian or Australian? Would I be having these life or death or bills arguments with myself.

Get it together. Get it together. You can make it. Is this a real emergency? Do you really need help? Do you? Does anyone even know how much pain you are in? How lonely you feel every day? does anyone care?

I have never in my life felt that I was having an asthma scare like this before. I’ve NEVER been hospitalized for an asthma attack, and only until recently in the last 8 months had I felt like it had gotten so out of control that I had to see a specialist and get on steroid inhalers. I started using inhalers 2x daily and another emergency one at least once or twice a day. This was all new to me. I had inhalers and asthma as a kid but I never used them. I just suffered through it instead of take my meds. It didn’t bother me that much, except when I ran. I used to use it as an excuse to get out of PE in elementary school, but I stopped doing that in junior high school because running became suddenly fun and I realized I was actually capable.

Before 8 months ago, the only medicine I inhaled everyday was marijuana. Since December I have almost completely abandoned or turned down any smoking devices (bong, blunt, pipe, joint) because of my asthma. I even stopped smoking and only eating a small cookie once a day to cut down on my cannabis intake and bong smoking hoping it would cure my asthma somehow and the wheezing and coughing would magically go away. it didn’t. Cannabis use is not the problem. Asthma is a chronic illness, a disease they call it. Great. Another “disease” i have. As always getting back on my regular dose of cannabis after discovering that cutting down would not have an effect on my asthma was a huge relief for my depression. Vaporizing and eating my cannabis and my asthma inhalers are essential to my survival. Both keep me alive and help me to breathe. So you don’t think I need weed. or you think I am a drug addict. I need to go to MA and apologize to all those that I have hurt with my marijuana use. LMFAO. What about those that have hurt me and drive me to self injurous tendencies that make me want to medicate? You want to criticize the addicted but you are not willing to take them in YOUR arms and tell them it will be okay. I’M NOT WILLING TO DO THAT TO MOST ADDICTS myself!

I do not see myself as a drug addict. I am a cannabis patient, and a drug USER. A recreational binge user sometimes, but a casual recreational user (I even call it professional user, even reflecting on this incident in retrospect). I’m addicted to Halls cough drops because of my asthma. Inhalers make your throat sore and your mouth dry, so if I don’t have them a coughing spell will exacperate a more sever attack in minutes. cough drops and steroid inhalers are not stigmatized drugs however, even if you use them and need to use them every single day.

Finally, I stumbled into the hotel room nearby of one of the girls from our crew still crying. M answered the door. We hugged quickly. I gave her the same batch of shrooms. She was also having a bad time, but not as bad as me. She explained to me that the person who owned the hotel room was anti-drug use and OCD about her space. I was crying on the phone as I paid the taxi driver. “It HAS TO BE OKAY.” I said,”I am REALLY AND TRULY SICK and on the verge of going to the emergency room. How can someone not understand that??” I cried. Even the taxi driver looked empathetic.

M answered the door, looking dazed. “How long does this last?” she asked me.
“uh, about 5 hours max.” I said. “I’m scared.” I said entering the dark, quiet and peaceful room, such a different space from where I just was. I went to the shower and turned on the hot water and closed the door. Steam relieves asthma attacks. A little.
KNOCK KNOCK on the bathroom door after only 7 minutes.
“they’re about to come back to their room,”M said,”and we gotta leave back to D’s house. the house of 5 dogs. I could not go back there. EVER. The thought alone made my chest tighten up. The dog owner would never check on you or feel any responsibility for your pain. NO ONE CARES AND NO ONE OWES YOU ANYTHING. She was never really your friend anyway. She only tolerated you because of M. I offer her no social capital, even with my 602 virtual acquaintances.

M brought my car and my stuff from D’s house of 5 dogs to the hotel that I rested in until about 11pm. She told me that I couldn’t stay in the room, and since I hadn’t made any money I couldn’t afford to get a room though I needed to rest very very badly. she gave me $35 for picking her up at the Ontario airport which would be enough to get me fueled back to Los Angeles, where my queen comfortable bed could potentially await me in 2 hours. I crushed up a couple of lines of cocaine and powered myself up to make the journey. If any of these people made me feel unloved, rejected or alone, i didn’t feel it as I drove home. If the whole day of pending emergency was emotionally and physically exhausting, I no longer felt that either. Sasha Gray’s Scion’s cold A/C cooled my swollen lungs and I drove into the darkness 2hours West back where I came from…

Cocaine is an emotional anasthetic. Rejection? What rejection? It’s also like espresso for me when I need a jumpstart to drive a long journey, to work another 2 hours, to drive back to the Valley from LA after coming back from a no show 2 hours before. I probably have Coke on my menu these days directly under the line item with my Starbuck Grande Soy Lattes (except it is part of my tips, I have NEVER bought it). I might use it 4 or 5 times a month. Less now that I am no longer an all night graveyard shift agency girl. Coke and escorting to me go together like condoms and penises…normal. necessary.

Maryjane is my real friend. She is there for me when no one else is, and that’s usually most of the time. Maryjane holds me when I cry, even makes me stop crying, it’s like she listens and understands in ways that my family, the people I date and society do not…She makes being alone all the time totally fine. even entertaining and creative. I LOVE HER. Awww. And She LOVES YOU TOO. Irie is Love. It is a natural anti-depressant, anti-anxiety med. it helps me through PTSD moments, it helps me now mentally deal with the pain of my asthma…

“What does it feel like to sit with the pain?” my therapist asks.

Before it used to just feel like a pain in my chest that would be relieved by inhaling Maryjanes kisses at the local dispensary, but recently in the last year, since my asthma has become more severe the dog that was sitting on my chest has morphed into an elephant literally making it impossible physically to breathe.

i bought a vaporizer and have been using it for 4 months now. Smoking out of my bong is something I do sparingly and only now because the glass part of my vape BROKE and few places sell spare vaporizer parts, and as I said before I am broke and in survival mode. I go to my local dispensary to use their vaporizers and socialize like a coffee shop in Amsterdam. Superficial conversations usually. It forces me to get out of the house and talk to real people not online. I have 602 acquaintances on Facebook. They probably have not even missed my status updates…maybe it’s all the better for them.

You trigger everyone you talk to anyway. No one wants to hang out with a hot mess.

07
Apr
11

People’s Choice Award and The Power of Self Competition

I recently entered my self identity art pieces from my visual art collection from 2000 to present in a NYC based juried art competition that cost about $70 to enter.  Times were still hard back then but now they are even tougher.  If you win this contest, they say, they will pay for “one year of your life.” (this includes my weed, right?)  How that gets interpreted is kind of a laughable prospect but I like the way it sounds, especially recently.

What would one year of my life look like at its very basic?  It would look very similar to how it looks now, EXCEPT I would probably not being doing sex work to pay for everything in my life, including my art projects, musicians and solo show director.  I’d throw out a few select ads and price my rate extremely high like many of the other girls in the VIP section of Eros.com.  (they rate themselves at $6-800/hr! Do they get any clients I wonder?)  I would do sex work because I enjoyed it, because I wanted to, not because it paid my rent or put food on the table. My art and music would do that. I would be paid for my artistic talents adequately to support myself.

I MUST say however, that I have had some amazing sex this month!! whew. I fell infatuated with one of my new clients, and converted another into a lover who offered me solace in recovery from PTSD moments after the martial arts incident…Reverse escorting has proved to be easier and better than adultfriendfinder. Most of the aff guys I met and/or fucked were sooooo lame. broke, boring, too religious, too cocky, ugly, LAME.

One of my new hot clients called me at 3am on a rainy Saturday and turned out to be an account manager for Adam Sandler’s film studio and was actually able to say that he played basketball with him in between shoots and would get yelled at by Happy Gillmore himself on a regular basis! sigh, my dream job with my ex-future husband from high school…I LOOOOVED ME SOME ADAM SANDLER for a good decade or more. I dreamt of a man that would be as dorky, charming and retarded as me! We had fucking amazing gushing multi-orgasmic sex on his amazing expensive mattress. I reverse escorted him almost instantly and made a home in his cuddle, sleeping over without asking after our second round. He had a nice home, nice car of course. A single man who loved yoga but didn’t look like a vegan hippie. I wished for a day or two that I could really date a guy like him, that he would even want to date a girl like me in his “real life”. Cinderella from South Central LA. It’s weird moments like these that I am ashamed of my class and what I do. What happened when he and I graduated from our prestigious colleges that deemed that he would have money and success and I would have strive and struggle? Would I give up my life of adventure for a real job of creative management status like he had, a job that all your relatives, even your distant ones would be bragging that you did…

If I didn’t have to do sex work, I would be able to have the privilege of turning off my phone to cuddle and have sex and play WWF wrestling imitations on my bed without feeling guilty!  I would be able to take showers and baths with my lovers WITHOUT my two phones next to us….THIS IS ONE OF THE REASONS WHY I AM STILL ESCORTING AND STRUGGLING, pushing and hoping that a big break, a small break, even a medium break of any kind will come my way and I will be able to float for a little longer.  Anti-prostitution feminists are always asking us,”if you could do anything else right now, what would it be?” or “If you didn’t have to do sex work, what would you be doing?”  I think of those questions as inane as “What would world peace look like?” or “What would it look like to not use cannabis everyday?”  IMPOSSIBLE!  Sex work is what I do to make money because i choose to be an artist.  I do not choose to be an unpaid or barely compensated artist and musician.  That is not my choice.  The universe has really crafted this path for me, and it is a path in which the main way for me to pay for my existence is by being an urban geisha and personal companion for those men that are as emotionally starved and lonely as me!  But real jobs are lonely, being in your cubicle alone, overhearing the watercooler conversations, office politics are all lonely.  the grass is always greener. When I am in production for a big show, like the premiere of my solo show Modern Day ASian Sex Slavery: the musical, I was not able to do anything but write, memorize, revise, think about the show, make set pieces, prepare, memorize constantly…no social life. My escort phone would ring and I would just ignore it. I didn’t even think about it. I would figure it out later. I knew a check that would cover the rent was on it’s way and I would worry about the rest after February 8th. I turned down a pile of money, cocaine and an overnight rate with a client because I had a rehearsal the next day and I didn’t want to seem too fucked up for rehearsal with my director in a few hours. The 3 hour show that we did was one of the few clients that I saw during this prep period. Somehow it all worked out. seamlessly. It feels great to pay your rent on time without fear of your bitch ass manager calling you with a 3 day notice.

A dude I was trying to date recently (not a coverted client!)  once said,”Why don’t you get a good job with your Master’s Degree so you can have something to do during the day?” As you can only imagine, he just erased himself out of my phone with that comment.  I could have kept him around, but I was so bored with his acceptance of everything that he didn’t even understand.   You DO NOT need a Masters in Fine Art (MFA) to understand art, to understand performance art or conceptual art.  WWF wrestling, Michael Moore and The Yes men are all conceptual artists and once I explain it to the non art educated fan, they can get other types of conceptual art projects and happenings and gain a new appreciation of all of it.   Some people, however, will never get ANY OF IT.  In moments of pure acceptance of my path, I can say with confidence, “this is my day job.  This is what I was meant to do.  I’m doing it.  I’ve been doing it.  I will continue to do it.  For the rest of my life. I can’t get a day job, because I HAVE ONE ALREADY. I can’t teach or tutor or work at Radio Shack because then I would be cutting out of my art and music making time. But we all need to pay bills and rent. When I add up my monthly income it seems consistent and decent, like I shouldn’t be struggling but I seem to always have trouble. 4 days at the agency was great for me, although it was definitely exhausting. I had a great situation with that boss lady. I was able to save up and travel, come back to LA stack chips and soon go off to travel somewhere else. But, that work came with its costs as well.

I am currently broke and struggling again and it always seems more hopeless than it is so I try to keep the faith.  I am looking in all the different job sections of Craigslist and freaking out about the future because I remember canvasing for donations in the parking lot of Trader Joes and trying to make ends meet in that way without agency sex work and how devastatingly hard it all was.  I spent the whole day today applying to different agencies but two of them already turned me away because I was an independent escort.  I used to work with an agency that didn’t care what I did on my own time as long as I kept running calls for them.  This is the way an AGENT should work.  AROUND YOU.  Not vice versa.  But they aren’t really agencies.  They’re pimps and bosses at best. I tried to explain this to one of the agent guys I applied for a job with an he hung up on me in 10 seconds.  I told the boss lady that sent me on the call where I had to get my stun gun out with a guy who grabbed my butt to “call me” and she didn’t.  I really wish my former agency was still running although I complained about it all, it was really nice to have them to fall back on when there was any kind of emergency.

If I was somehow privileged enough to not do sex work, I wouldn’t have to recover from job related PTSD.  I would only have to recover from OTHER non work related trauma.  (which recently happened via an instructor at my martial arts gym).   For the entire span of my professional art career (since graduating from college with an Art degree) I have focused on using my self identity as a performance character and a canvas for the themes in my art and politics.  My work has always talked about the very things that are inseparable from my experience: my race, gender, sexual orientation, beauty and weight standards, occupation, heritage and sexuality….I was first captivated by Cindy Sherman’s untitled film stills series and all of its Black and White grainy bold 60s feminism and I’ve since used it as an undercurrent for justifying using my self as an object, subject, narrator, seller and storyteller in my own series of artifacts.  I have had the great fortune of collaborating with amazing artists and photographers along the 13 year journey.

Modeling in my own photomedia has always been a way for me to generate my own untitled film stills, sometimes owning them as my own stories or projecting a made up or over dramatized version of a story I may have dreamt.  Although dressing up like a hooker and going to the Japanese Tea Gardens in San Francisco in 1999 seemed like something an exhibitionist would do, it came to be my modus operandi in which i was able to become a prostitute performance artist creating a safer and more accessible version of my own reality to the public. I don’t do it for attention, I do it for self exploration and some form of therapy is found in performing and giving life to concepts, archiving them in images.  I wanted to be a fashion model since I was 16 and though I only grew to be 5’1, high heels and the sex industry gave me the same sense of satisfaction, power, and even money that the Barbizon type modeling schools tried to promise me in exchange for $1500 (in 1992??) in runway and make up classes.  After I became a stripper, I became a model, an art director, a make up artist, a fashion photographer, a producer, a singer and all those job titles that little girls want to be when they grow up. I was not too short, or too fat, I was in erotic spreads with the sexiest men and women…(ones that i have only had hot implied sex with!)
 Except, in order to pay for those expensive dreams that COST money to pursue and did not PROFIT, even after years and years of investing time and energy into them I continued to do sex work, mainly escorting.  After my “retirement” from stripclub stripping at 25 I ventured off as a free agent, working for agencies, entities, houses and myself for whoah, the last 10 years now.  When I first got word of this competition, I was like, this is totally MINE.   but lately, it’s so hard to keep the faith, when I haven’t had decent income in almost 3 weeks and the rent is late AGAIN.  87 octane gas is $4.15 a gallon and I have burned up so much of it going to no shows and prank calls around LA that when times are tough, I am forced to stay home. Save gas.  I am having a bad run.  The tide will turn soon.  Power of Self.

Help me out won’t you?  Click on the link below and VOTE on your favorite images!

power of self portfolio

06
Jan
11

TODAY WAS A GOOD DAY.. I DIDN’T EVEN HAVE TO USE MY PEPPER SPRAY

didn’t have to stun gun the attacker away,

i asked for a cancellation fee and there wasn’t shit that he had to say…

Just Kidding.  My good day today had NOTHING really to do with sex work directly because I wasn’t working at all.  I spent the WHOLE DAY IN SELF CARE AND IT WAS WONDERFUL.  I am the QUEEN of self care.  I know how to love me.  Why?  Because I have lived a lifetime lacking LOVE from others.  I have mostly been single, and I am the youngest black sheep child in a pretty normal Asian American family.  (Lonely, no touching or I Love yous)  This is NOT crying victim.  This is accepting and taking pride in survival.

I had VICIOUS cramps the night before and bled through my sweat pants twice in one night.  I am trying out my new Diva Cup which is not disposable like the Instead cup and you can’t have sex on it but it is more ECO FRIENDLY because you wash it and reuse it.  When I woke up I thought there would be a dead fetus on my bed beside me it was so intense.  I had ripped open one of those camping heat warmers and placed it directly on my womb and finally I was able to sleep.  Immediately I dreamt of having a baby and I saw my potential future baby daddies, my gay male bff from elementary school and his new love of his life.  They were both holding a hand of mine while I screamed in the worst pain that I had EVER EVER EVER EXPERIENCED.  The room was filled with orange light which helped to calm me from the excruciating pain that I was feeling in my abdomen.  But somehow I was achieving sleep comforted by remnants of dreams of the love and friendship I had felt from so many people in the SF Bay over the holiday vacation.

On Christmas I had spent my quality time with my mother for the obligatory few hours that we could have in common.  She retreated to her room to read her bible, so I jumped on backpage to place escort ads on Christmas Day sort of out of shits and giggles as if anyone was going to really be worthy as a client on Christmas.  I was inPhoenix, Arizona on Thanksgiving doing the same thing and it didn’t amount to anything.  Why would Christmas be any different.  It turned out this client was going to be me hitting “paydirt” my Christmas present.  4 days ago I was barely able to leave Southern California and I had resorted to painting my entire family of 10 small canvas paintings because 10 canvas boards were on sale at Michaels for $20 and I was going to be too broke to BUY these kids who had parents that could and probably would buy them whatever toy or material thing that they wanted.  I was painting small portraits for the kids waiting for the phone to ring with my last client who would give JUST enough cash to pay for gas and a couple days in town before i’d have to go fishing again.  I’d resorted to beg/texting some regulars or white list guys who were of course also broke and couldn’t help.   Funny that my client calls ME his ‘paydirt” but er, i’m going to have to beg to differ.  If 350,000 a year is a bad year then my lifetime goal is a piece of shit in Skid Row. (human shit, you know the kind that you squint at piled near the side of a building going, that’s human shit, no toilet paper just skid marks.  real ones).

It’s funny that money really really has so much to do with my well being and sanity.  I’d like to get out of this pattern, and it really doesn’t JUST depend on money, but money really DOES GET THE BALL ROLLING and it really does CREATE A BARRIER SO YOU CANNOT TRAVEL AS FAST AS YOU’D LIKE TO.

Today I FINALLY made a Western Medicine Asthma doctor’s appointment with the money I made from my Christmas Sugar Daddy Client.  I told the receptionist I didn’t have insurance and that I was paying cash, and low and behold there was a 50% cash discount!  Amazing.  My appointment, prescriptions, treatment and all KINDS OF FREE SAMPLES including inhalers and a neti pot totalled $375 + $16 for parking so about $400.

I felt and breathed better instantly and it was like I WAS on one of those MIRACLES OF CHRIST shows where I am crippled and start walking again.  Well, it’s the prednisone shot, which I used to get when I would have eczema flare ups in college.  The problem with the prednisone is it is like COCAINE.  It reduced inflammation and makes everything that ails you better (I mean everything asthma, eczema, nasal congestion and swelling just immediately HEALS).  BUT THEN IT RETURNS and you go back to where you were but not as bad.  So the cure is sort of like a false sense of hope and it ultimately frustrated me.  I’m still only breathing in the machine at 48% the capacity of a non asthmatic after one day of treatment.  But I’m sure it will only get better.  My asthma has not been this bad in ten years.  I never really needed an inhaler.  I managed to survive throughout childhood without one.  I tried but it was wasted on me.  I found out today that they each cost $200!  The doctor gave me two one month inhalers which I’ll probably end up using for 6 months.

I forgot that DOCTORS AND TEACHERS are the ultimate philanthropists.  I am SO FUCKING BITTER.  I forgot that there are givers like me, whose life calling and destiny it is to help others feel LESS PAIN IN LIFE.  And they do this unconditionally easily if they can and at the expense of themselves sometimes if no one stops them.

I need to stop the bitterness.  Maybe all the goodness that happened today was just a constant reminder of that.

So I make my appointment for the asthma doctor with a big smile because I learn that it is only going to be around $375 which is totally affordable to me and worth it as I have been coughing for 2.5 months and am sounding really really sick to a lot people around me. I tried to quit SMOKING the bong,pipe, joints or anything that burned and cut down my cannabis use by 2/3s  for exactly that amount of time and there was very little improvement.  In fact, the asthma ATTACK part is less severe when I smoke marijuana more frequently.  the way that I cough is less severe to the lungs.  I don’t feel like I am going to suffocate at the peak of the cough and I don’t get woken up at 6am coughing until 10am, which then makes me sometimes need to sleep til 1 or 2pm.  I read that cannabis subdues a part of the brain that makes you cough like that.  This is why they say smoking weed can be good for asthmatics.

I step out into 62 degree sunny Los Angeles (after battling the cold and A COLD in San Francisco’ and Renos freezing winter) and someone had found my prescription sunglasses that I had misplaced ($350) and left them on my front stoop!  I was soo excited because I had also misplaced my regular glasses at this Christmas client’s house and we coud not find them anywhere either.  So I was out of all sources of glasses for the entire week, leaving me dependent on my contacts which I really should limit to wearing 12 hours a day for optimum health and comfort.  Yay!  I wouldn’t have to spend money replacing my favorite prescription sunglasses.  Thank you Good people of South Central LA for returning my glasses.  maybe my neighbor or the weekly gardner, who are good people essentially.

Next was my drs appointment which just went great.  I felt better after being hooked up to various machines and I inhaled steroids and they shot it in my butt cheek and the drugs did their Western medicine magic.  I knew they would I just didn’t have the money to afford it and I knew it wouldn’t be like a $60 acupuncture treatment that I hoped would solve it.  Or a $28 bottle of asthma pills at Whole Foods.

I ate a delicious vegan ‘chicken run ranch’ burger at my favorite college hangout Native Foods.  I love to eat.  Love to reward myself with food seratonin.  It was getting late and I wasn’t going to get to see my favorite mechanic who had recently saved my engine.  The check engine lite was on for some reason and it wasn’t lack of oil.  I’d been driving a lot.  From LA to Arizona to Vegas to SF to REno to LA. Phew.  I love my Sasha Gray and she loves me.  2 new used tires recently.  tomorrow we will wash her finally and take her to see why the engine light is on.

So the Plan B was Olympic Day Spa, my favorite womens only Korean soak massage ritual.  I am a bath goddesss.  Its part of the Japanese and Korean culture VERY strongly and not so much in the other ASian cutlures that I know of but still present.  (When i was in Taiwan and China, Vietnam, Thailand it was hard to find bathhouses).  I spent 2 hours soaking and splashing around.  I got a 30 minute massage which i REALLY needed because I had actually THROWN OUT MY BACK COUGHING SO HARD on New Years Eve.  I felt the vertebrae go up and down and walking all day the next day was a challenge.  Add in all the drugs I did that week and you have yourself a wrecked hot mess. When I came home New Years Day I could barely move around Allyn’s tiny apartment. This was alllll about healing that mess.  I met and have gotten along great with his new Vietnamese nail salon boyfriend and the three of us slept together them cuddling me too but allowing them their romantic space.  We were 3 pigs in a blanket, a queen bed with a mattress foam pad that felt like heaven to my back after trying to party like I was 22 at the age of 34.  When i come down from ecstasy, cuddling is such a part of the essential healing that i need and love.  I think doing lots of e with my then best friends is what was so important to being a healed adult while I lived in San Francisco becoming an activist, a survivor, a sex worker…I exchanged love and healing that I needed so badly and we became so close as a result.  I fell in LOVE with my best female friend because I thought, in the same way that escort clients think you love them, that this was real girlfriend for life potential. with Allyn and his boyfriend I am trying hard to see a family in our future because it is time for me to start thinking that way.  I have to just jump and go.  Or else I will be 40 and the chances of me doing this right are going to get slimmer.  Especially since i want to keep using cannabis while pregnant.  The 2/3 cut down experiment was part of that transition.  I’ve regressed since, but I understand that limitation of use is possible with Passionflower pills as an anxiety substitute.  I’m not going to beat myself up, i’m just going to try to think about how to bring a child into the world as a pot smoking, bisexual, polyamorous, jet setting, artist sex worker activist.

I was so happy to be exhaling in bliss my wheezing was not as present finally this time.  I tried to use the spa treatment as the ONLY medicine a month ago.  Trying to spend extra time in the hot and wet saunas as an alternative.  But if the doctor gave me as much PREDNISONE as she did it was already in a state of URGENCY that I didn’t realize.  I walked out of the doctors office with all my “free gifts” smiling and happy happy happy that I was able to breath so much better than when I came in AND that paying her the $375 check was nothing to me at the moment of my recent CASHOLA from Christmas.

I got my prescritions filled at a drugs store across from the One HOur Eyeglass place because I was going to need new glasses ASAP because I didn’t think i was going to find my lost ones.  My mom gave me a spare jacket on christmas before I left her house and I found them in the pocket of THAT JACKET!  I must have forgotten that I was wearing them, because Christmas client and I started out our date drinking champagne and I totally forgot that I had that jacket on during that night.  I don’t usually do that many over night dates in a row.  It throws off my sense of time and space completely because I am really a home baser.  In the parking lot across the street from the eye glass place I find my glasses so I just saved myself $200 and 2 hours trying to get replacement prescription glasses!!  What are the chance of finding your presrption sunglasses and glasses in the SAME DAY!!!?

AFter the spa, I asked one of my artist friends Saria Idania to meet for dinner so I could pick her brain about ideas on how to create a successfull one woman show.  I had just decided to really try to kickstart my own one woman show writing this year and by going to Saria’s show I would be pressured and inspired enough to go home and write my own in time for my February booked gig at Long Beach State.  I had no idea that she would offer to be the DIRECTOR of the show!! I was sooo happy because the process of looking for a director when I have never BEFORE HAD A DIRECTOR was a very very daunting process INDEED.  We talked for hours and hours about ideas and activities and she gave me homework and I was so excited about life and art and motivation was surging through my veins….It is the essence of being an artist, this feeling.  We already have a rehearsal schedule and a budget, and again paying her a reasonable fee for her time is now a doable prospect because of my recent client.  Hallelujiah, perhaps the decision to attend her one woman show by myself on a Friday night that I had to work later was the greatest thing that I could have done in 2010.

And now I lay me down at 4am…

There are good and great people.

that LOVE ME.

I did a gig in LA and FOUR of my friends showed up!  That’s a lot if you perform a lot.  I was ELATED.  I had just returned from SF and spent lots of time with my great friends, one of them a friend I had known SINCE KINDERGARTEN that I had never partied or done drugs with ever before.  He thought the people at the End Up were “interesting” and he is trying to get me to take him to Burningman for the FIRST TIME.  I haven’t gone in 6 years and i have gone to 5 total.   One woman a sex worker activist from Thailand that I hadn’t seen in 6 years still sexy at 50 something telling me she’s going to come to LA and be a hoe with me!  I took Scarlot Harlot, my dear whore mother to get her first pedicure!  I met and bonded with many new boyfriends and girlfriends and even one that read this blog and decided as a result that she didn’t want to have anything to do with me.  Oh well.  Some people will never see my light.  It’s ok.  My gig last night was amazing.  The venue was beautiful.  I am enterting 2011 with hope, happiness, love, light, laughter, slow but sure health…xoxoxox year of the rabbit hop on hop on




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