Archive for the 'escort life' Category

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

08
Dec
10

reverse escorting for the single provider

All my single ladies!  yes, you the ones that are not in a primary pair bond, who do NOT find themselves hugging someone close to them at night before they bed, who do NOT wake up to a lover looking at them, begging them for morning sex…who do not get the intimacy they need because they’ve decided or not decided that they are better off alone, happen to be single or escaping a horrific partner…do YOU KNOW what I mean when I say that sometimes we “get paid to get ours?”

This is more true than EVER when you are not overloaded with the sex of a primary cohabitating relationship like the kinds that I have found myself in in the last 3 years.  I’ve lived with two different guys for 2.5 years total.  I made a point to make the sex in sex work quick and utilitarian.  I had no motive to orgasm, except when I was hired by couples or I was pleasantly suprised.  I was getting taken care of at home, and because of the nature of the relationships that I was in, it was almost a requirement to save most of your enjoyment and enthusiasm for the guy that waited for you outside of your show to drive you home and fuck you to prove that his shit was better than any trick he drove you to see.

It’s been a little over 3 months since I broke up with my last codependent abusive guy whom, I admittedly had fallen in quick love with for 3 months.  This is what strung the noose of his abuse and made it so easy to overtake some of my will over the insane course of events and lies that he spewed in such a short period of time.  I am a hopeless sucker for romance and attentive compassion.  Him being an experienced textbook abuser had all of those tools in his belt but it’s false promises didn’t hold me for longer than 3 months.  I have very low tolerance for being called out of my name repeatedly and treated like trash and contrary to popular belief it wasn’t THAT part of the relationship which kept me, it was the promises of love and romance which my heart still believes in despite all his abuse.

REVERSE ESCORTING: Since becoming a single lady again, I have to find a way to fulfil my need for orgasms, sexual pleasure AND intimacy without a partner to get these things from.  Sex work is not the only outlet that I have but, when you are as busy as i am and work for a demanding agency, it is not only convenient but sensible to make the most out of the dates that you have to go on.

I barter for perks.  I have always tried to enjoy my job.  As much as possible.  If they have a nice soft bed that is seemingly made of clouds, then I might be encouraged to spend more time there.  If there is a hot tub with a whirlpool, a steamroom for my asthma, room service dinner with wine, a Laker game, a sunset island cruise, a waterfall over a sparkling swimming pool that we can sunbathe and swim in naked…and you can make me cum?  wow.  then i am yours!  how exciting for me that I am getting paid for all of this as well!  fuck yea! i love my job! i’m exclaiming on the inside as I roll around in the 600 thread count sheets and down duvet on the canopy bed overlooking the ocean…

It’s been over 3 months since I’ve had a lover sleep in my bed and roll around all day with me.  It was a gray and fiercely rainy day in Los Angeles.  Client and I were coming down from partying the night before.  (him more than me…i had gotten some sleep)  I proposed that he come over to my house and spend the day with me for free.  Strangely, at first he turned the offer down, even making a dramatic “Just drop me off” charade before jumping back in my car.  He was offended that I charged him for ONE HOUR and gave him 23 for free?  Puhlease boy, get back in the car, I said, and easy enough as it was to get him to go to the ATM to get my donation was it easy enough to kidnap him back to my place to fulfil my need to be cuddled in my come down with affection and sex while the gray hours of Sunday passed from outside my bedroom window.  I wasn’t going to beg.  I was preparing myself to allow him to be dropped off.  He was STILL a client in my eyes, although an adored one that i had created a special bond with, since he had helped me get my car engine fixed last month.  I was careful not to let this client slip too quickly into freebie land.  My rate steadily goes down every time we see each other and I know that it will be over soon unless I am willing to convert to real dating status, which because of our differences is probably not really possible.  As your escort, I stay neutral and try to remain likeable, as your real girlfriend I make you put up with who I am for who I am and I am unwilling to make changes to lots of things for any partner’s needs, demands or insecurities.    “if you want me to turn my phone off and just be with you, then you HAVE to donate, babe.” I said.”I don’t have the luxury to lay in bed all day and not work..” If he had left me then, I still would have laid in bed all day but instead be lonely and probably not have enough energy to go out on calls.

I needed him as much as he needed me.  We fulfilled a purpose of intimacy for each other and it was wonderful.  It was exactly what I needed and wanted.  I gave him the ultimate girlfriend experience without the usual barriers and rules.  We kissed a few times.  I kissed his head while I held him.  I am very affectionate.  I LOVE TO LOVE.

I allowed him to do things to my body that only “real lovers” get access to.  (Anal and kissing)  I allowed him into my bed.  He is not the best lover in the world, but we have a great emotional energy that connects between us and allows us to exchange sexual and intimate energy often without penetration because he always has coke dick.

I tried to have sex as a release with one of my new drivers (even though that is totally against my rules), which turned out to be a mistake.  I ended that one as soon as possible, and even though he was not a client, the sex was too much like a job.  He was out of my place as soon as he came in.  I gave up on him, “You can just cum now..”I said giving him the tap on the shoulder sign.  The guy had worked as a stunt cock in some porn videos recently and he seemed totally opposed to foreplay which didn’t work for me.  Ironically he had a problem with the fact that I had herpes, when little to his knowlege alll porn star girls end up getting herpes because they don’t test for it in their work clearances.  He was willing to eat their pussies without a dental dam but not mine?  Puhlease.

I LEFT WRITING THIS POST TO MEET W/ A CLIENT..Innocent 20 year old newbie.  His first time was a rip off and he was really really trying to get me to say exactly what I would do for how much.  I had just gotten nearly arrested in front of a Starbucks in LA by the same newbie routine but this guy seemed to fit the characteristics of not being a cop but i was still nervous about verbalizing words of prostitution.  Even as I alluded to them, I waited nervously for the back up vice squad to come rushing in, even though it was 1:30am and I knew that vice busts don’t usually happen so late at night.  (they like to start them early because it takes so many hours to book a girl, typically they try to set us up at 10 or 11pm).

I was doing a lot of cuddling and massaging because he was so intent on getting a full hour of whatever it was that I was offering, so I had to extend my usual routine.  Admitedly the massage part of the routine is usually only 20 minutes and the sex part is about 15 minutes, my shower is 5, closing banter is 5 and we’re both out the door in LESS THAN AN HOUR in a typical date.  It’s always PAINFULLY obvious when you get the guys who need you to spend all SIXTY minutes on them because those guys are the ones with the least to contribute to the chemistry.  This is why reverse escorting techniques are often needed for single girls like myself.  The typical escort routine can seem a little rote and impersonal even if it is cordial and there is a genuine energy exchange.

The massage part is essential because it makes it easier for two strangers two have sex with each other without much introduction.  Skin on skin and breath on back and neck are the best motivators for erection, connection, orgasm…I’ve never formally studied tantra but I believe that this is what it is for me and my client and how I practice it.

For me, it has to be that i feel enticed by the personality of the client, he has a wonderfully luxurious bed, maybe there are drugs involved which help to ease the social awkardness (or sometimes create more) OR he is hot and I would probably have fucked him for free, or there is just a distinct energy that nurtures that part of my soul that NEEDS mutual intimacy as much as he does.  Not everyone sends that energy out, so it doesn’t always reach me.  I am not pursuing these men like I would be in “regular” dating situations so if they decide to not provide for me, it is not a big deal usually because I was initially there to provide for them, and, to get paid to do so.  Reverse escorting is still a pride game.  The ball is still in my court for as long as I can hold it there.  Sometimes when I proposition for a second or extended date, even if it is for FREE, they reject it.  The real girlfriend experience is not part of their desire.  GFE just means unprotected blowjobs and kissing to some people I guess, even though that isn’t THIS provider’s definition..I try to snatch it up in the moment where it lives.  I still get paid for my time, but I give free extensions if they are willing to please me.  I am extremely tickled at how my new website states “Flexibility with my rates depend on how good of a time i am having” LOL truth spoken but still vague.  I love it.

The 20 year old and I did not have a genuine connection.  It doesn’t work with everyone.  He was ready to leave after he had an orgasm, which is what they usually want to do, which is fine fine fine with me.  This left 10 minutes to spare.  He didn’t want to try to come again.  hey, really no sweat on my part, I said.  I don’t actually include “multiple pops” in my rate, i’m just doing it because i’m trying to give you a good newbie impression really, I thought.  I even got him to tip me!

I had to save up nearly $2400 ($1800 + rental fees) to rebuild my engine which recently died and I hustled like a hooker on crack for weeks to attain that goal with the help of the agency bookings and my own private clientele.  When I finally reached my goal and I was ready to pick up my repaired Sasha Gray (the name of endearment for my Gray sports coupe that fuels all my girlfriend experiences ala Sasha Gray in the GFE titled movie) and return the rental, I asked my last client who was a young whoreaphobic but cute client if I could just sleep over for a few hours which I did.  I convinced him to cuddle me in his arms and I knew that I was breaking all his stereotypes with every word and breath that escaped my mouth.  “it’s all in your mind…”I said,”I’m just like any other girl…” He had made some sarcastic comment about “oh, the prostitute knows about safe sex?” and I responded,”why would I NOT know about safe sex? it’s my job.”  I reverse escorted him for the nite but knew he wouldn’t be calling me again.  His shame and stigma would prevent him from doing so.  I had worked soo hard to save up so much money for the repair on top of my regular rent and expenses that I just needed someone to cuddle me until it was time to pick up my car at the MINIMUM.  What I could have used was a bunch of soft kisses while saying,”I’m so proud of you baby, Congratulations.  You’re such a fucking awesome hustler.”  He gave me a couple of orgasms instead and his dick felt amazing inside of me so I let him have sex with me way more times than the average John..We both got our monies worth, sort of.

13
Nov
10

You look Familiar…

Greetings to all my readers, my lovers, my former lovers, and most of all taking a moment to acknowlege ALL MY FUCKING HATERS. FUCK YOU AGAIN but THANKS FOR READING MY BLOG.  Hope it teaches you a little something or two.

I’m not going to post all or even most of your comments, I’m at best going to paraphrase them for my own purposes but I am definitely not to glorify your abuse.

I know the internet and text message technology allows you to spew hatred very disconnectedly and without feeling much consequence.  All I can say to you from inside of me, if you are hating and thinking abusive thoughts about me understand that I spend many evening preparing for our next meeting in person.  3-4x a week I train to defend, punch, kick, eye gouge, headbutt, take painful blows and dance circles around the average unassuming DICK like yourself.   There is an inner MONSTER that all sex workers have.  She is the spirit of Aileen Wuornos that has been wronged too many fucking times and YOU might just happen to be the final trigger, the final tipping point into that 5150 land of no quick return…Do you REALLY want to trigger my inner Aileen?  REALLY?  You call me a crazy bitch (or some variation of that phrase) to try to break me down, but it’s you that made me this crazy bitch.  (Men who argue with me ALWAYS call me crazy.  Why?  Because rising up against masculinity to them IS crazy.  You as a BITCH thinking that you can DO SHIT, IS CRAZY, according to them).

I was fearless before I even knew I could fight.  Now I am even more ready for you if you ever decide to act up in person.

I just imagine me biting and tasting your blood in my mouth and not stopping because you are screaming…

You think it’s fucking bad to deal with a bitch who has PMS? try a bitch who has PTSD…

Who am I talking to?  A few different MEN actually.  Its scary that there’s so many people who actually wish bad things on me for telling my truth.  For showing my belly and thighs with a short tight skirt, for being a size 11 and not size 7 or 3.  For demanding that I HATE MYSELF.

No, I’m not pregnant.  I’ve never had a child, but I stand ready to have endless baby making sessions with the next person that comes to me bearing true partnership and love.   (You think I’m joking?  I’m not!  Wall to wall unprotected sex with my future baby daddy in some beachfront Condo please please please…) *ps. this does not declare my heterosexuality but I’m sure I want to make a fuck/love child not a turkey baster one 🙂

Am I FAT? I'm sure that's not what she is thinking...

When I was a teacher, I was 7 lbs lighter than I am now and students would always ask if I was pregnant!  Everyday!  Girls would ask it so often, that I had to make it a CLASS RULE that I included in a handout!  4 years older and looking back, I only WISH I had the body I had then!  I just figure that the Renaissance figure that was popular back in the day that allowed women’s thighs, hips and bellies to express themselves in any direction they wanted were all en vogue.  I have a pear shaped figure even when I am the ideal body weight.  This is why students would ask me if I was pregnant back then, even that I was thinner.

It is truly a sad state of things, the amount of FAT OPPRESSION I am enduring by these misogynist abusers.  I am FIFTEEN pounds overweight (according to current Beauty Standards as defined by the mainstream) and I get name called every obese vocabulary word combined with the derogatory for prostitute as if I were THREE HUNDRED pounds overweight.  FAT OPPRESSION is a tool of the SEXIST PIG to keep you silent about who you really are when they are usually the ones out of shape and sloth like.  I actually don’t care that much about being overweight.  Okay, sometimes I do.  It’s pretty hard not too isn’t it  But not enough to get a lap band or go on a crystal meth diet or even a Raw Food Molasses Lemon concoction diet!   But,  it’s really the OTHER PEOPLE that care way more than I do.   I don’t like being out of shape when I am.  I often can see my body change when I go out of town away from my martial arts training for 1-2 weeks.  I’ve seen my arms and legs seem bigger after doing Krav Maga for 10 months.  It is the other people that MAKE me care.  It is the other men that DEMAND that I know that I am NOT HOT, not fuckable, not worth their money.  And if I were fifty pounds heavier, then the rape jokes would come I’m sure.  “You’d be lucky if someone raped you.” (there is a great chapter on this in the Yes means yes anthology)

“Of course you fuck fat guys!  You are fat!”

“Anger Bitter Overweight Discount Hoe”

comments from 2 different assholes, I said I wasn’t going to glorify their abuse* but I’ll just keep it brief.

I have a body like my mother did at my age.  Look to your parents to see how you will age.  She was a hot hostess with a rocking body in Japan in her 20s.  I was a smoking hot 125lb stripper who graced the cover of 2 national San Francisco magazines in my 20s and my dad still says,”You were gorgeous? When?”  (My dad is great with sex worker rights, but horrible with how to talk to the ladies, which is why he has never dated (or gotten laid) after my parents divorced.  My dad also thinks that I am fat.

All I know is that in ten years I am going to hate that I didn’t enjoy my body more when I was 34, just like I hate that I didn’t enjoy my body more at 30 because all my students kept asking if I was pregnant.

I wonder..(really, I really DO wonder) HOW MANY hits of mine you could actually TAKE of mine before you hit the fucking ground?  Then will you say that I am weak?  Have you EVER had your face stomped on by a PREGNANT LADY?

Would you like to volunteer to be my human punching bag in an upcoming performance?  I fantasize about having you stand there and just take my hits while laughing and taunting me.  It would be the ultimate belt test…and a true test of your MANHOOD Don’t you think?  I do, tough guy.  If you want me to set up a cage match and even take BETS on how long you can remain standing as I attempt to lay you out in 5 hits through facebook, EMAIL ME NOW (mariko.passion at gmail).  Let’s take this to a performance art/youtube level motherfucker, I’m ready.  I’m obviously not afraid to put my vulnerabilities out there for the public to consume, ARE YOU?

(Inspired by the one who had the nerve to say

I take “WANNA BE martial arts and yoga” LOL)

A former Wells Fargo Bank robber was one of my clients the other night and he took me to eat a seafood plate at Denny’s  (that’s how GFE I really am, take NOTES).  He let me SHOCK HIM with my stun gun!  I didn’t do it for too long and I didn’t hold the gun at his throat like I would to a perpetrator trying to rush me and follow up the shock with several groin kicks and punches just like we train in class.

“It feels like you just stabbed me in the chest.” He confirmed.  He was a crazy man indeed.  Entertaining clientele as always.  I hate banks and especially have a bone to pick with Wells Overdraft Up the ASS Fargo.  I was glad to hear that he had gotten away with robbing them 3 times without even using a gun.   We talked about our Bonnie and Clyde fantasies.  He could have been dangerous.  Convicted felon.  Former bank robber?!  I wasn’t scared, fascinated.  I like meeting people of all walks of life.  I like my job.

He was massaging my back when he told me he robbed banks.  I had to turn around and face him so I could read his eyes and his energy.  His intentions…my safety.  I read that he was cool.  He was so happy to be with me, I felt safe.  “But that can all change,” I said snapping my fingers and looking in his eyes,”Just like THAT.” I said recalling the two times I had been robbed by male clients.  He told me he didn’t even use a gun when he robbed them, so I figured he wasn’t going to pull a gun out on me.  We were at his mom’s house and she was pattering around in the kitchen getting ready for work, so I just felt like he wasn’t going to flip on me at his mama’s house.  The two men that robbed me did not use guns.  One said he had a gun and I just believed him.  The next person who tries to rob me is going to be attacked by me NO DOUBT.  I pepper sprayed my 2nd perpetrator 3x while he stared without blinking at me walking backwards out of my house.  His reaction was psychotic or drug induced indeed and I didn’t think to kick his ass in my own house, I just wanted him out.  I am pretty sure today if that happened things would end much more violently.  I WILL NOT ALLOW MYSELF TO BE VICTIMIZED AGAIN IF I CAN HELP IT.  The 2nd time I reacted better.  The 3rd time is the charm!  (Well, not for them).  I don’t even care if it isn’t in the context of sex work.  It may very well NOT be.  I feel the same way.  FUCK YOU FOR THINKING I AM EASY PREY.  I WILL DIE TRYING TO SURVIVE THE NEXT ATTACK I SWEAR.

DO NOT TRY TO USE THE CONTENTS OF THIS BLOG AGAINST ME.  If I have posted it here, I am already aware of it and you aren’t telling anyone anything they couldn’t read for themselves.  (I know I suck dick for money, I know I have herpes, thanks anyway). I’ve processed it through writing and posting and so throwing it back at me is pretty fucking stupid of you.  I’m not even going to give you an E for effort.  I’m not TRYING to sell a sexual fantasy.  I don’t put my best photos up here on purpose.  I know about the imperfections.  I’m putting them up there so readers can understand the reality of a sex worker.  This is not an escort blog for the boys.  I have one of those on my work website and it pains me to try to write in such a way that holds back so much of who I truly am.  This is a skill that comes naturally to most people.

Lots more people are reading this than I originally thought.  I had an escort call through my agency and met a man waiting for me outside his apartment building.  He was extremely cordial.  He recognized me immediately.  “You have a blog, don’t you?” he asked.  I felt a tad reluctant to admit at first because I wasn’t sure if this was going to HELP or HURT my business as an agency girl.  LOL.

LOTS of issues here.  In escorting, I try to stay as neutral as possible so I can appeal to everyone potentially.  “Can I get my donation and then I’ll talk about my blog.” I wink.  It turns out he’s a huge fan.  He thinks I am awesome and super hot and he respects me for my writing and all this great stuff!  I am laughing while we are rolling around on his bed because I have arrived there under the guise of another fake picture which rings the agency that I work for on most nights.  Here is some random internet developer who I do an outcall in Los Angeles to, who is already familiar with me and my blog (which is based on my real life events) before we EVEN have sex!  “You went to New York right? You had a threesome for your birthday?” he said!  I was laughing my ass off (LMFAO)! Tooo many things like that have happened during my agency work in LA lately.  It’s become a small small city to me lately based on this and other coincidences.

This blog is NOT really made for most clients (he was the exception).  This blog is anti-patriarchy, anti-sexist, anti-racist, radical feminist shit and the average escort client in LA is simply not that demographic, go figure.  Some dickheads have a PROBLEM with me for telling my truth but this blog isn’t made for THEM.  Hobbyists haaate me.  Submissives want me to dominate them and spit in their mouths but get angry when I say I need a donation for that kind of treatment!

This blog is made for ME first and foremost, so I can get my issues and pain off my chest through writing it out because I have to FAKE IT TO TAKE THE MONEY TOO MUCH SOMETIMES(I played a board game for tips with a diehard Glen Beck fan for hours!) so I gotta put the words on this blog so I don’t go crazy from keeping all my good stories to myself.

I arrived at another escort agency client’s house.  I climb the stairs to his bedroom, the guy says, “You look familiar.” Here we go, I think as I smile.  “Do you go to the Standard Hotel? In Hollywood?” he asked.  There was only a very limited times that I actually get to go out and enjoy club nites for just me so it’s easy to remember.  “Ah, yes, I said. I know you.  How are you?”  I had taken his drunk ass home when he sat in my booth as I was eating at the diner at 3am.  “Yeah, you never called me back.” I said.” Too bad for you, $300 please.”  PAYBACK TAX.  Of COURSE you have to pay me!  But if you had not been an asshole you might have gotten a few free lays out of it and maybe some good company, but oh well.  I decided not to hit him up for the $200 tip at the time of this call since we had been together before.  A pity fuck indeed.  I did not have to be so nice.  The sex was mediocre as I remembered it the first time.  We exchanged numbers, but I haven’t called him again for a freebie.  No thanks.  LA: smaller and smaller every day.

I wonder if people recognize me when I walk through the city…I have very distinct hair colors and tattoos and style of dress…They may have been an agency client and are embarrased cuz they paid $500 to have sex with me for 20 minutes but most of them have actually great memories of our time together once they get over the money part.  I don’t rob them of their money.  They give it to me with a desperate smile on their face very willingly.  They paypal me from their computers, I drive them to the ATM (sometimes), they write me checks with the drivers license and work phone # on it…they are consenting tippers accepting of the agency fee that they got hustled into paying.  “It’s a tax on both of us really,” I say,”But if you call me again, you won’t have to pay it!” I smile.  I wouldn’t get repeat clients from my agency work if they were all dissatisfied and disgruntled.

This blog is for others like me, sex workers and similar souls who I may be speaking about, educating, coming out and marching for.  I speak my words and music for you.  This blog is not intended to get me escort clients, I don’t escort or dominate under this name at all.  I work for 2 agencies and I work for myself so it would be really really difficult for you to try to hurt my business in such a way that would be crippling as I have multiple names and identities I use at any given time.  What does it matter anyway?  Half the time I try to not even exchange names.  Unless I decide to pull them into my reality.  Then they get the personal phone number and my “real name.”  (Priceless).  Suprisingly with usually a 2 sentence recap, I can remember everyone who I’ve been with, even if I don’t know their names anymore.

Mariko means CHILD OF PURE TRUTH.  It’s really my Japanese name.  I speak the truth using this name as a blogger, a writer, a poet a singer and an artist.  I created a name where I COULD candidly talk about being a sex worker without fear of losing credentials in the “real world” or have anything I say as an activist affect my profits as a sex worker.

You cannot be so candid in ANY business and expect to gain business.  It’s just a numbers game.  Staying neutral is obviously to your advantage.  Trying to agree with everyone.  Having something to talk about with former meth factory manufacturers, gangsters, bank robbers and other criminals as well as hold your own with the Glen Beck/Tea Partiers, hedgefund bankers, and litigators of the world.

I realize also in putting my video on the change.org petitition with its 1,869 views that there are a lot of WOMEN with a lot of strong viewpoints about me.  I have created myself as a target of judgment and criticism for the anti-prostitution movement through the petition I created to make advertisers verify that the escorts are over 18 and not being forced or held against their will.  Many SEX WORKERS who are well known in the twittersphere and in the sex worker literati circles were VERY OPPOSED to my petition.  The amount of opposition surprised me.  For some reason, I didn’t expect it!  It was exciting to see which sex worker rights advocates were actually unafraid to endorse and which ones (Scarlot Harlot, my whore mother and mentor) were afraid to outwardly sign it.  “If some sex workers strongly oppose,”that could be a good reason to look it over very closely,”Scarlot said but I realized something that I knew already.  With policy, it is really rare that you would be able to PLEASE everyone so in order to be effective it is a strategy of picking battles.  We saw this happen with Proposition K in San Francisco.  Not nearly did all the sex workers agree with the wording but we all came out to help pass it anyway.  It was drafted by a woman that many sex workers don’t really always agree with online and in person.   There were some labor disagreements between the people that actually acquired the signatures to get the measure on the ballot and actually 2 separate sex worker parties endorsing the measure.  We managed to look like a somewhat unified whole and achieved 41.3% of San Francisco’s yes vote that year even though there is usually sever infighting in SF sex worker politics and very little real policy ever gets passed as a result.

I did the petition to start a better dialogue at change.org about sex work and sex workers rights.  I made myself the sacrificial lamb so they would stop being so ridiculous on that site.  I did hope that it would be a good enough idea to be implemented by at least the local LA Weekly paper of which I am a weekly adult classifieds client.  Craigslist adult section shut down in the U.S.  Backpage in the U.S and Craigslist in Canada were soon to be shut down as I write this.  I felt a true urgency to do something to SAVE my source of revenue.  I felt threatened and unwilling to let the LA Weekly cave in to anti-prostitution campaigners without an outspoken sex worker like myself advocating for herself!  That was the goal of the petition, but people still find reasons to HATE.  And that has taken a toll on me for sure.  SOME Sex workers on bound not gagged love to jump down my throat like a big dick every time I write something, and that is pretty disturbing and disheartening to me as I feel that I would and almost have died fighting in the whore revolution for the rights and lives of bitches who could give a flying fuck about my advocacy or efforts.

Get a real job! I don’t feel sorry for people like Mariko Passion.  They take the easy money route (of sex work????!!) by using their body to make a “quick buck” and don’t want to work like the rest of us!  And even some religious anti-porn crusaders hitting my youtube with very strange comments about repenting and finding salvation through new jobs…? Retail?  Restaurant work?  I felt like I was listening to a witch hunter from the Crucible movie.  anyone who thinks sex work is easy money, has obviously NEVER done it.  It was pretty insane.  Keeping up with micromanaging their comments and non sequidors has been overwhelming and I’ve just given up in the last two weeks and just left their last words up there without a rebuttal.  I didn’t start this campaign so I could argue and micro manage people’s skewed moralities.  The petition quite likely will have no impact on the sources that I aimed it at, but it did get my face and the sex worker rights agenda front and center into their website which is what it so DESPERATELY needed if it were really a site about creating CHANGE.

What pains me to DEATH almost about the “real job” comments is that I have worked 60 hours or more a week as a high school teacher and as the founder and director of SWOP-LA which I ran and ran and ran for 3 years with very very little pay.  What constititutes the real of the real job?  Running SWOP as a harm reduction/HIV program was very very real to me.  It was so real looking that people that I sat on panels and committees with probably had NO CLUE that I afforded MYSELF a place at their tables BECAUSE I drove around LA all night long “sucking dick for money.”  I’ve had lots of jobs.  None of them EVER paid me what I was worth until sex work.  Now, if I was in Canada, I would have gotten $20-30/hr for running an organization like SWOP-LA but we are in the U.S.  Harm Reduction work usually pays $10-14/hr to start, part time with no benefits, and just like teaching, if you are directing or leading a non profit yourself, you will likely volunteer 20-40 hours of unpaid time to the cause.

With feminists like them, who needs patriarchy?

One sex worker activist local to LA but whom I have never met said that my petition didn’t speak to the “average sex worker.”  This confused me.  Did she believe that I was above average or below average?  I can’t really think of a sex worker who is more average than me.  I call myself “upper” working class!  My clients are UPS drivers and warehousers, gaffers and tweakers from all over LA who happen to be awake between 10pm and 6am.  I don’t have any race based restrictions (i.e no black guys) no weight restrictions, I take crack heads, coke heads, drunks (within reason)!  Massages start at $175.  I’ll smoke weed with you and let you buy me a fish dinner at Denny’s (if you let me practice stun gunning you in the parking lot!).  I was a craigslist, am an LA Weekly and backpage escort and virtually stay away from review boards unless I have to use them.  I am not sure what is not average about me?

This MAY be because I am an artist and I make people suck on my tampons on stage?  That’s certainly not the average sex worker’s routine, true.  Confusion.  The vocal opposition is about not wanting to trust the media outlets with our age verification information.  This is the kind of verification that outlets like That Mall and Eros.com have in place.  These women advertise at these outlets but are screaming online their opposition, urging other sex workers to NOT sign my petition blindly.   My petition was even mocked on her twitter.  “Guess who is NOT going into any advertising office and giving them my ID?” she tweeted.  She also has NEVER made her presence known in any sex worker activist events that I had ever been to, including December 17th in LA where she lives and works or anywhere else for that matter so I’m not really sure if her opinion of my work is all that valid anyway.  So much for sex worker solidarity.  It pretty much goes along with the rest of the Angeleno attitude of “It has nothing to do with me directly so why should I give a fuck” attitude.  I knew that sex workers were an impossible group to gather in this city unless they were gathering around eating carrots and ranch and talking about nothing during a review board mixer aimed to get them more hobbyist clients.

Another leader for SWOP-LA the chapter of SWOP that I founded and ran for 3 years has finally emerged after leaving the organization dormant for almost a year!  I am grateful to pass the torch as always.  We tried to do this with SWOP-LA’s second leader Ofelia Corazon, but she was unable to take on all that running a SWOP chapter in the big apathetic city of LA requires.  I feel no disappointment.  I was dying to step down.  And when she said that she wasn’t going to run it, I certainly knew I was not going to take it back from her.  It was out of my hands and would lay dormant for up to a year, I indeed focused all my energy, as promised on sex worker rights channeled through my art and music and have never felt sad about not being on a 3 hour conference call since.

“You look familiar…” they say.  Maybe you’ve had sex with me, I immediately think, but I really honestly don’t have sex with that many people.  I tell the HIV counselor 10 a month just to make the “counseling” session that happens before the test easier for both of us to process through.  That 10 includes all client sexual interactions in total which are not all intercourse, so in reality it’s not that many partners.  7-10  sex partners a month for a prostitute aint much ( I don’t think).  Gay men have that many partners during a dry spell.  Internet connection must have been down at their house or something to warrant only 10 guys a month!  If I worked at a brothel it would be 5 a week or more but most of my job is driving driving driving and hustling, negotiating, making nice, defense defense defense.

I’ve actually spoken in front of and educated farrrr more people in LA and beyond than I’ve EVER had sex with in my lifetime.  Just in 3 years I may have interacted with 500 students who are all over 18 now and roaming the world and Facebook trying to say hi to me when I least expect it.  (I’m friends with a ton of them and yes, they know).

My face and body are the subject matter of my entire breadth of artwork, which now has spanned 11 years since 2000 when I started doing self identity pieces after college for  my first exhibitions.   How can I not yet be used to people putting me up and down and making comments about what they believe that they see in me?  I feel like Obama must feel right now.  I know I am good.  I know I am talented.  If I weren’t, I would not have gotten this far, but damn the amount of people’s criticism is hard to stay on top of.  Plus, I have JUST survived a majorly verbal, emotional and finanncially abusive relationship with a crazy person.  My self esteem is slowly coming back after being shook up and taken for a ride.

Do I look familiar because of my art?  Have you seen any of it around anywhere?  Are you one of the 1,874 viewers that has seen my youtube channel?  Maybe you have and my confidence won’t believe that my art is really going anywhere because in my isolated world I don’t feel the pull of anyone’s encouragement from all those views and hits.

36B-28-38, 34 years old. that's not what I tell clients who are buying a fantasy but thats the body i've learned to LOVE so fuck you. LOL

What I realized after meeting my blog fan/agency client was that there are a LOT of people that I don’t know reading my words and hearing my voice that don’t comment.  I spend many many more hours brewing a blog entry before I publish it nowadays.  More careful indeed. There is at least ONE ASSHOLE who has the time to read 7 entries and leave 200 word verbal abuse tirade because his partner is passed out cuz he already abused the shit out of her (or him?) and now he’s fucked up pouring over the internet and hasn’t had enough feeling like a pseudo dominant shithead.

Thank you again, for those that support and inspire my words, my art, my hard work and what I’ve stood for tirelessly for over 12 years now.  Whore Revolutionary since 1998.




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