Archive for the 'agency' Category

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

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.

29
Dec
09

Why don’t you just work without an agency?

I’m not that good with advice.  Because you don’t  know..you just don’t know.

I wish I could be a successful independent escort without agency bullshit and make 100% of my profits.  but i can’t.  Wouldn’t I just love to do phone and webcam work without depending on Niteflirt to get traffic to my listing?  Of course.  I just need as much money for advertising as niteflirt or cityvibe or eros or any of the agencies that i work for spend, which could be up to $1000 A WEEK.  Who woudn’t love to meet all the clients that I meet as an agency escort without having to deal with the bullshit.  Wouldn’t you love to be part of an elite $4000/hr Emperor’s VIP or young Heidi Fleiss type of agency if you were part of one?  I would.  But the stakes are higher as we’ve seen with Deborah Jean Palfrey’s agency scandal.

Why don’t you just go “indy?”

I tried to be an independent escort investing thousands of advertising dollars in the yellow pages, internet websites, weeklies etc.  I tried to be an escort agency myself (and only had the worst most undesirable women apply to work with me) and because I love all sex workers it was hard to be so shallow and even racist in order to make money.  I’d rather have others do that for me and me be the more innocent pawn so I can use the “I’m just doin’ my job” defense.

I am NOT the girl in the picture.  I am not the girl you talked to on the phone.  I can play dumb lots of times, because I truly am kind of dumb to the details.  It’s going to be at least $200 more than you thought you were paying and it might make you mad but i can’t care for you.  It’s YOUR LOSS or MINE.  and living on $20 in my wallet for who knows how long.  One indy client at $300 an HOUR a week, means you are living on $300 a week.  Not cute if you have rent and car payment and need to eat.  Another thing that makes it easier for me to sleep at night, is that if it isn’t me taking your money, it’s gonna be the bitch behind me and I’d rather it be me of course.  And, like I said, I’m nice, smart and I have sex.  Not as bad as it could be for the average agency trick.

To make the phone ring off the hook, you used to be able to use Craigslist but since CL has become the favorite of police stings and sex worker predators or you need to spend at least $500/month on various advertising sources (which also isn’t police sting and predator free either)..

and then there’s the hobbyist reviews boards which i DESPISE.  and coincidentally, they despise me too as made evident in a recent blog post that I wrote on one of these stupid white collar internet locker rooms.  (What’s on your menu?  Do you kiss?  Anal sex?  Can I review our sexcapades on the boards with everyone?  Can I eat “dinner at the Y” meaning Can I go down on you?) I HATE most hobbyists.  Their very essence is the core of my irritation with patriarchy and privilege.  It takes ALL the power I love about sex work.  I’m not a whore because i love sex and really want to submit to these motherfuckers.  Most of the guys I am fucking, I wouldn’t be fucking if they weren’t paying.  So trying to be nice, fake, shallow and dumb to uber male privileged dudes who I hate in order to drum up more business and ‘good reviews’  has never been my forte.  I am a sex worker because i am trying to reclaim power in a sexist and patriarchal world and maybe you think from the post below that I am totally CRAZY.  But I understand it.  I have never fought back against men like I have as an agency escort.  My recent relationship has also been a vicious verbal fighting one with power struggles as well…I know, you would look and listen to my relationship and say “I can do better.” but i’m single now and before that guy I was single for 9 years.  Being alone can be better but finding a good relationship is not always the easiest advice to follow.  It’s not something you can control all the time, even though you might want to .  Although, I am a MAGNET for low achiever, fixer uppers, men and women with addictions, jail and prison records..I shouldn’t be a prison teacher because I’d end up engaged to one of the inmates in a week.  Co-dependents can be the most romantic people, I swear!

What I hate most is that I can’t use my own photo and make a lot of money.  I have to use an agency photo that the horny client calls first and then show up and negotiate my way into the door and negotiate another two bills out of his wallet or credit card before we get into his bed.  For some reason when I post an internet escort ad on most of the major known websites, my phone doesn’t ring off the hook.  I don’t make enough to survive without working agencies.  It’s too bad, actually.  I wished my indy work could sustain me.  I would be fine JUST doing webcam and phone sex and occasional escort dates.   It’s not like I enjoy driving around from 8pm-6am.  Sometimes I put in 120 miles a shift.  I am my own driver.  It saves me money.  I dated a guy who I started dating by pulling out of a nightclub for a one night stand.  He had a small knife around his neck, that looked like a necklace medallion.  I think I could stand to invest in one of those.  When you actually have sex in agency work, I believe that you are a little safer.  I figure typical agency girls roll with drivers because none of them will even do a hand job for $500.  They make it seem like I crazy for doing half of what we say someone will do! I work for 2 agencies at the moment.  One is high end low volume and the other is my regular agency gig that I work at 3-4 times a week, that I tried to quit in April after keying up some guy’s car.  I steal clients from the agency by getting independent repeat clientele.  The 2 agencies I work at don’t care and don’t expect it, especially not the cash and dash agency but I have worked for some that instill fear in the workers and say that they have fake clients who check up to see if you are stealing clients from them by giving them your personal phone numbers.

Lots of agency work works out pretty well until someone traumatizes me.  Because I’ve been out of it for 8 months, going back has been kind of exhilirating.  I know that I can’t do it for too long though. I have learned my threshold for this work is pretty low.  It works well if you do it 3 months on and then off, if you can afford it.  I am prepping my resume with an internship so I can hopefully get some paid media work in the field I would LIKE to be working in, not one that I am settling in just to barely get by.  I don’t want to work full time in social justice non profit outreach work.  I want to be a singer, an entertainer, an artist FIRST.  then an activist.

But I know that it is only a matter of time, perhaps a week or a month until some blow up happens.  Mastering how to de escalate verbally without being hurt except by words and shouting.  I am great at that, but I have proven that I don’t take people’s shit on my knees with my mouth open.

Sometimes though, it feels like  I am asking for a dude to hit me, so I can press charges.  I fucking dare you to hit me.  I actually did this (dare you to slap me) in the 7th grade and a boy slapped me.  It was the first time (and maybe only?) time a guy has slapped me.  I didn’t press charges on the boy.  We were both in 7th grade.  but I was pretty moded.  I didn’t think he was going to hit me but he did.  It wasn’t too serious but memorable for sure.  Fighting is martial arts even when you’ve never really studied it.  If your opponent is angrier than you are you can easily deflect this energy by remaining rational and neutral.  (but still heading for the exit with your money in hand hopefully as fast as possible). Aikido combined with exit strategy..

I never wanted to carry a gun because I don’t like guns.  Having a gun on you will only get you in more trouble.  If you never draw a gun on someone, you won’t have to have the experience of having a gun drawn on you.  One of my other ex boyfriends was a gun toting weed farmer who was arrested for pulling a gun on someone on the freeway in a road rage incident.  Stupid gun behavior.  I’ve managed to not have any physically violent incidents.  The work is traumatizing on a regular basis, but it is also cathartic when you stand up to someone.

I have mace in my bag and I used to have  a stun gun but that disappeared a while ago…

Some of my fellow sex worker activist escorts that I’ve organized with in this movement are privileged enough to not have to take clients past 10pm and to not take clients who do drugs.  I have never done sex work that way.  I guess I’m just not that kind of working girl.  I did get a sugar daddy from agency work, and I am thankful to be doing this blog on a beautiful new MacBook Pro that I got as a gift from him.  I float from roach motel to 5 star suite between clients of various class levels both independently and with my agencies, but it’s just that the review board hobbyist scene doesn’t match my personality and I guess I like to play these party boys like slot machines, perhaps that’s what it is that I am addicted to.  I like to be the dominant collector of their consensual submission.   I have effectively found a home to a specific type of sex work that I have learned how to navigate quite well, how to exercise boundaries, practice plenty of sex worker self care systems.  One of my non profit harm reduction friends worked as a driver at an escort agency and is now an independent filmmaker, a recovered junkie and MARRIED to an escort he used to drive with the agency.  They are making a film about it.  Brad Pitt was once an agency driver.  My life is fucking crazy.  I can be in the underworld and blend into the straight world, and occaisionally flirt with the VIP world all in one week’s time.  I guess that’s why I do.  This chapter of my life clearly is not done.  I want to prepare a different career path while I do agency work just like i did with SWOP-LA.  I was the director of a non profit who went to meetings and training and I was prepping myself to be a full fledged legitimated HIV prevention funded non profit at one point but pulled out to save my soul.  My heart is not in that work.  I am an artist first and foremost.  I must now take my time, money and energy and not codependently work on the problems of other sex workers before I work on the problems of my own life.  I moved down to LA to get involved in the media capitol of the world.  I must now use agency work to do THAT.  My priority before was to use my money to decriminalize prostitution or further sex worker rights in LA.  I am trying to be a singer, a video and film producer, a personality.  I want to to turn this blog into a book and more…I wish there were more options than agency work, and there will always be people who say they don’t feel sorry for you, I have other choices, but I just don’t see them.  Or the opportunities were simply NOT presented to me, because if you think that I don’t try for to find them, you are wrong.  I am an overachiever and workaholic.  Believe me, I try.  Or the way I see the world is simply going to be different than others.  I tried it and I didn’t like it now I must do something else.  Transitions take money.  I create my privilege with this form of sex work.  I have to bust my ass it seems just to be on the bottom edge of being middle class.  and if i let go, like I did when I quit the agency how quickly I fall to stuggling broke ass class.  Hungry and hopeless in no time.  EVERYONE SAYS I HAVE CHOICES, and I guess I’ve already made them, but I never really saw them as choices, because I didn’t create the options, I just made the best of what was presented to me.  I hate the word CHOICES actually.  Hate it.  TEaching high school was not my lifetime pinnacle folks.  There are so many people who actually believe that and chastize me for CHOOSING sex work and sex worker activism over continuing to teach.  I taught high school to round out my activism that was pretty entrenched in sex worker issues.  To me, I became a qualified social justice activist through my experience as a teacher and upon getting my Masters of Ed.     To me the issue was crucial and dire and the sex worker movement needed me to return , and just like any other war needs soldiers, but now I am ready to work on my own battle more directly and thus the meltdown will hopefully have settled by now and I will now meld into a beautiful Phoenix Rising statue from the metal kiln..

26
Dec
09

A Day to End Violence Against Sex Workers 2009

Reflecting After A Day to End Violence Against Sex Workers

2009 seemed like it was filled with trauma and violence of non physical proportions.  Lots of drama with the escort agency job and the boyfriend.  I quit both in July and stepped down from directing the non profit I founded for sex workers in LA.  My relationship to my own surprise, officially ended when the cops at my door were asking me the question,”Are you still in a relationship with this guy?” I was the one who called 911 to get him to to stop knocking on my front door incessantly when he wasn’t supposed to be there that day.  I was trying to exercise my space boundaries and my right to not pick up the phone when my boyfriend calls when I didn’t want to talk to him.  If someone doesn’t pick up the phone and you just come over, then you are unwanted.  Go away.

I even Facebooked it almost at the same time as it was happening: If you call the cops on your partner, does that mean the relationship is over?? I didn’t know the answer then, but it answered itself by surprise and slowly over weeks to come.  One day, all of my phones were ringing and there was an incessant knocking (banging? It felt like banging, but I don’t remember..) on the door.  I felt like my boundaries were literally being attacked in my own home and either I am just a post traumatic stress disorderly who is triggered to calling 911 too easy or I felt like I needed help with a situation that had gone too many months out of control.  No one was willing to step in and help, not my friends, not his parents…I just wanted this man out of my house and I didn’t know how else to do it.

We haven’t seen each other since.  But, if I hadn’t called the cops, he’d still be living with me.  I’d be blogging about wanting to break up  and he’d be in the bedroom, watching Southpark.  I had asked him to move out and it took 4 months.  I asked to give me space and he was banging on my front door calling all my phones trying to “give me something/hang out another day.”  I called the cops on him, and they cuffed him in the back of their car.  It was sad and frightening.  I would have more regret had the xboy not subsequently been such an ass between then and now to make me not feel sorry for what extreme measures I needed to take with someone who was so blinded by his own definition of  “love” that he simply could and would not respect my boundaries.  We’ve talked a few times since and every time he’s disrespected and offended me each time more. He still has some of my stuff that he holds onto like the hope of us getting back together but our conversations make it very easy to never talk to or allow myself to be sucked into a place I felt stuck in for over a year.   He owes me money for back rent and he has a cheap PC laptop of mine, but instead of continuing to let him take cheap shots at me so that we could be drawn into the same pattern of fighting and fighting, I said, “Keep it.  Fuck you and your mother (he loves his mother lots).” I proceeded to cut him out by letting go of the stuff, the last thing he had to hold me. Although I didn’t really want him to keep my stuff which I couldn’t really afford to replace but would have to, I needed to be the one once again to be the bigger person and let go first.  It’s just stuff.  I don’t want to love or hate this man anymore.  I don’t want to fight about the same things.  I don’t want to raise a baby man.  I need an adult in my life who will support me, emotionally, financially and spiritually and he was not it.

As an agency girl, I work side by side with escorts who hustle hard, EXPECT you to tip high and DON’T believe in having sex for money in most cases.  Sometimes, if you are lucky and tipping well, a hand job or a blow job may be in order.  The average agency girls can be a ruthless hustlers, shameless liars, rip off bitches, good at running in heels, and usually roll with drivers who are thugs and ex parolees ready to mace a fool for wanting his money back.  It makes a decent amount of cash most times and some of the time, it really isn’t that bad and it can be quite exciting, fun and lucrative.  Sometimes, guys play along with our game and don’t complain.  Other guys would call those guys suckers, but they get the best end of the deal, if they just pay the toll.  But then there are the guys who pay the extra tip money and still get ripped off because their girl doesn’t do nothing for her money. It’s a damn shame that most agency girls have no appreciation for the art of sex work.

What makes me unique to the agency scene as far as I’ve observed out there, is that I actually fuck.  Funny how, what made me unique in the stripclub stripping scene was that I didn’t do anything in the private booths EXCEPT STRIP!  I was so whoraphobic as a stripper!  Now,  I am an upsell prostitute.  This is subject to change, however because I have recently been observing that it is much easier to just join the shameless/ruthless club than it is to be the hooker with the heart of gold who feels sorry for the johns who don’t get laid when they pay $500.   Some of the agency calls that I do, I look around and I am the only one actually fucking or sucking and I’m a tad bit embarassed!  Most of the time, it’s just easier for me to screw them, and screw them as fast as I can for the most money possible.

You have two choices.  You can be REALLY evil or somewhat evil, which in this game is not really seen as evil AT ALL.  OR, you can be successful as a high class independent escort just like some how to book tell you to do.  Many women work the review boards and are very successful.  There are madams with exclusive Tiger Woods type of clientele and there are agencies like the ones that I work, so many different ways to work, all of which are not accessible for all.  I used to think it was all just a matter of changing numbers on your website which would be the secret to making 6 figures in this business.  But it’s much more than that.  Just think high roller and you will meet high rollers! Some of us are pretty happy making $500 a night regularly and other people scoff at that amount.  Some escorts make $500 a week!  Everyone wants to charge $2000/nite but how many of us actually do?  I have only made steady regular profit off of agency escort work.  Late nites, longs shifts, bait and switch, upsell tipping, quickies and stacks of cash. But because it is a feast  or famine profession usually, the average middle class sex worker is never wealthy, usually not a home owner but usually RICH in time flexibility and control of a certain level of job freedom that is usually only attainable to people who make six figures… Yes, I wanted to be Eliot Spitzer’s whore but I couldn’t make myself into “that girl” even when I put my mind to it.  It’s not how much you make in a night or an hour, but how much you make in a week, a month or even a year.   Freedom to travel and take time off for your family or for your own self preservation is WEALTH.  And most wealthy people don’t even have the luxury of schedule that sex workers have.

I guess I feel sorry for the agency tricks a little, and I figure I don’t mind having sex for money, so if they tip me at least $200 over the show fee, they can usually have 20 minutes of sex with me.  This deal is not only a rarity in the agency escort world, it is generous.  I feel I am preserving the sanctity of prostitution but no one knows or appreciates this..

Most girls take the tip, hand it out to the driver (who gets 30%) and then she proceeds to do all of nothing for the guy.   I have recently been feeling like I want to be more cruel!  I give A LOT of myself to a good amount of ungrateful tricks who just as well deserve to be burned once in a while.  Why am I so nice sometimes and so mean other times? I wonder.  I have gone back to the car to fetch condoms when I already had the money and tips in my purse.  I went back to the guy who was in the house or hotel room to finish the safe sex that they paid for upfront when I could have just as easily driven off into anonymity and not looked back.

This is what I do as an agency girl a lot of the time.  So I suppose, in the end good karma equals out with the bad karma and you get a neutral year.  If I was just a do nothing girl, I wouldn’t have a bag full of safer sex supplies which would be used as incriminating evidence against me to prove that I was a prostitute.  I could simply avoid the risk by not doing it at all, just pretending and resisting every time. I did actually do that very thing for a while, before I turned out as a full service worker.  I did it sort of slowly..I think it only took a couple of weeks or months into the work, one handjob, one blowjob and then the dramatic missionary position deflowering of the non whore into the wild shameless asian jezebella that she is today!

2 girl or multiple girl shows with an agency are a nightmare almost always.  2 girls who aren’t even bisexual or sexual for that matter, usually in a roomful of horny dudes who think they can do a line up for $100 each guy, I suppose they deserve to be ripped off even if that was what the booker on the phone told them.  They paid $500 for 2 girls to show up but they didn’t have tip money to keep us there so we ended up leaving after about 5 minutes.  Our ex-con bouncer distracted them while we went down the elevator and then he was unable to extract any more money out of them of any significance to get us to do anything with any of them.  If you don’t have tips for an agency girl, she is leaving as quick as she came in.  And you don’t get your money back.  That’s right fools, my bouncer just got out of prison for voluntary manslaughter.  It seems completely counter to my feminism, as many things that I do are sometimes, but I felt safe with that guy and it felt good to have a bouncer type for once, when usually I attend my escort calls alone with a security person I hire to stay awake with me and monitor my check ins to addresses that he gets by text message.

Naturally, the agency deal makes some guys mad.

They tell me to get my clothes on and get [the fuck] out of their houses.  One guy stole my cheap Boost mobile phone in exchange for the $300 that I refused to give back.  My job is the same as the drivers job when we hire drivers.  Don’t get hurt and don’t give refunds.  It’s scary as fuck sometimes taking the heat as a female from angry testosterone charged blue balling male gorillas but most of the times I deal with it by not responding verbally and just turning by back and heading out towards the exit.  No argument.  They wouldn’t understand my position at this point anyway.

Look, it’s just a job for me!  I just work for them!  They TAKE 66% from ME.” I try to reason with some of them.  “So in a way, we’re both in a bind.”  A somewhat overly- intellectual response for the situation, certainly not one other girls use, but true enough to work.  It does work most of the time.  They then say,”You should work for yourself.”  And then I say,”I do.  But you know, the economy is really bad.  If you want my direct number you can have it and I’ll only charge you $300 flat.”  This tactic works well for me too, and I have gotten repeat clients using this line.

One time me and this girl Britney from the agency had a show in the Valley.  There were about 5 guys in the house and they had just given us $500.  It became apparent that they didn’t have tips.  Britney told me in the bathroom that she was going to take off.  I told her to go.  I thought it would be fine if she left and I stayed because I would be able to make more money off of them because I offered sex.  This was so not the case.  AS soon as big brother found out that Britney had left he came storming out of his room in a half sleep rage, shouting curses at us and demanding all his money back.  “THAT BITCH IS NOT LEAVING THIS HOUSE UNTIL I GET THAT MONEY BACK!” He was like an angry gorilla beating his chest and tearing through the house.  I immediately put the stack of cash on the counter and headed out the front door as he chased me and verbally assaulted me the entire way.   “Is your fucking driver outside?” he demanded obviously all coked up and wanting a piece of another man since I wasn’t giving him much to fight.  Sometimes I DO man up with them and face their anger with my resistance and I ask them to STEP THE FUCK BACK.   Sometimes I talk back to them.  Sometimes I steal their money and their drugs from their counters and their pockets when they’re fucked up and passed out and treat it like a pirate treats booty.  YARRR, FUCK YOU PAY ME!!  They call me fat and pregnant and tell me I’m a bad person and I try not to let it get to me.  I smoke away the stress and anxiety when I get home from a hard nights work and my then boyfriend never understood why I just couldn’t go to sleep when I got home.  I’m not using the girls in the office enough.  I have been taking the guy’s abuse alone at times when I didn’t have to.  But it’s so very hard to think so fast all the time.  I think that I may have come up one night, then I get out to my car and there is an $44 ticket on my car for prohibited overnight parking in a completely residential area and no posted signs anywhere.

Is it more violent to feel as if she HAS to be a gold digger in order to meet her basic survival needs?  To have to meet clients who don’t pay you professional rates, but gold digger rates which usually requires more time, overnight stays, etc.  A girl who wants to get a bill paid usually means a cool $100-150 not the $300 an hour that you might be used to.  I have charged up to $1000-1500 for an overnighter (low end for some VIP escorts) but now taking whatever came my way, I’ve had strangers sleep in my bed for $200 and endured their company for way longer than I would have like all in the course of doing what some call ‘casual prostitution.’  Some don’t even call it anything.  It’s just a way of life.  Especially in the low income neighborhoods.  “You tell him,’If he wants the pussy, he needs to give you some MONEY.’ These are words I’ve heard the ghetto daughters tell me they learned from their mothers or aunts.  Ex-husband with benefits usually means a bill or two gets paid for mom AND the kids.

Is it more violent for me to endure the anger and resentment of men who feel like they are being ripped off and lied to once I tell them that I am an agency girl and that they have to tip me at least another $200 on top of the $2-300 they just paid in order for us to have sex.  Some guys don’t get mad.  Some of them don’t blame me.  They tip me.  And we fuck.  And everyone is happy.  Those are the shows that I live on.  Believe me, I DON’T like to be in confrontations with angry dudes who are almost always bigger and stronger than me in their homes.  (Or maybe I do?) Some get mad though.  They don’t get a refund.  My job is to not give the money back or else no one gets paid for dealing with the bullshit transaction.  Once you step in the door you feel entitled to something.  Such is the demented power dynamic that occurs in most sex work, in my experience (but also why I have done it for so long—for the love of power and the healing it brings).  I am superwhore and you can’t fuck with me.  You need to pay at least  $40 just for making me go through the trouble of knocking on your door.

I reluctantly sucked the dicks of 2 Black college boy clients that I would rather not have earlier this year, just to appease them.  I felt like I wouldn’t be able to leave safely without doing something.  I remember trying to bargain with them with the line,”Look, we all went to good schools here..”  They were treating me like a bitch and I got up and went for the bathroom to assert a sudden exit.  I wished I had left earlier.  If it were me today, I would have used the office girls to deflect them not my oral sex skills.  It’s hard to think when you are naked and trying to make a quick exit out of a gated condo.  My boyfriend remembered this incident later one time when we drive past their gated condo complex.  I felt loved somehow that he remembered how badly it affected me, that morning I stayed up smoking weed til 8am and when he mentions that we should still kick their asses, I am almost in tears because it makes me feel like he gets it…

Last nite I used the bitchy cunt appointment booker to call off a client who wasn’t going to tip and who wouldn’t let me leave with his show fee.  He was holding my Hello Kitty purse hostage. An older Indian guy with a show fee of $200.  I knew he wasn’t going to have any more money and that $200 was a fortune compared to prostitutes in India!  I broke the news early.  He tried to kiss my lips. I get up and ask the office to call the client, an emergency tactic that I have to say, I’ve never used but would like to use more after last nite.  I wasn’t really that afraid.  The exit went smoother than any other I’ve had recently.  The old man was small enough for me to knock down if I had to.  Whatever she said to him made him give back my purse kindly and let me go after he heard what she had to say to him.

The office calls the client and usually says that they are recording the conversation for the police when they just asked for prostitution services.  They know where he lives he says and that he just needs to let me leave safely and quietly without refunds or altercations.  I’ve been in a room where the booker has made the guy pay me $100 as a cancellation fee, even when I was definitely not the girl in the photo that he thought he called.  I’ve seen bookers make a guy cry!  LOL.  Everyone has their niche power position in this industry.  I could never be a booker even though technically I’m part of the same fucked up system, but really WHO ISN’T part of some fucked up system in order to survive and profit?

I quit working for this agency 9 months ago after doing it continuously for about 3 years while running my non profit during the day.  The last straw was when I thought this jack ass had taken the money he had paid me out of my purse.  I looked in the pocket it was supposed to be in my purse and I thought it had gone missing!  I told my boyfriend/driver to go back to the house and told him we were going to confront his ass and that he didn’t have a choice that he would have to have my back on this one.   He was by now aware of the theory I hold of robbing a sex worker is equivalent to rape and that I took being robbed very very seriously.  I expected my boyfriend/driver to have my back if/when I ever got raped or robbed on the job. We confronted john, fairly calmly and he denied ever taking the money, which we of course didn’t believe him.  My xboyfriend threw in a little threat from shadows and the poor john picked up some of his fireplace pokers to defend himself!  We ended up keying his car and almost threw a brick though his window.  After we drove away, I discovered the $300!  Oops…

I have been hustled by a client, one new years eve.  He said he was going to get his car out of the garage and then he went inside and locked me out!  I ended up kicking his truck door in a few times and took off when I saw a neighbor switch their light on.. that wasn’t an agency job.  I shouted crazy recordable psychotic evidence into his voicemail.  Very amateur.  I was a lit fuse!  Remember that robbing me is like raping me in theory, except that getting done over by customers occasionally is definitely an inevitable cost of doing business each year.

I needed to get out of this work.  I felt like I was ready.  (Wrong).  I felt like I wanted to have strong boundaries towards a work situation and exercise my right to choose other ways of working safer.  It wasn’t sustainable.  The violence from poverty is a different violence and in looking at the stacks of cash and weed on my desk now, when 2 weeks ago I was in the food stamp line for 3 hours waiting with the rest of LA county poor folks.

The drama and danger of this job is just like working on the streets but indoor.  (Similar to indoor and outdoor basketball?  No more similarities between street fighting and professional wrestling)  Except, no regulations, no protections, no rights.    Confrontations and quick get always are part of the job.

I didn’t like that I had my xboyfriend key up his car and it turned out that he didn’t deserve it.  He just thought it was funny and felt no remorse about what he did.  I felt bad of course.  I quit agency work for what I thought would be good, but it turns out that it only last 8 months before I had to come back.  My car was impounded and I needed $1500 to get it back.  I wasn’t going to do that at $10/hr.   The negatives of this life seemed to outweigh the more glaring negatives of being unable to pay basic survival expenses and watching your livelihood burn down like a house on fire trying to be controlled by a small 12oz water bottle.  Being a gold digger who can’t pay her rent and needs to ask guy “friends” to help her do that IS pathetic.  And she is usually truthful about this.  She lets these guys know the situation and they leave a small donation not because they are paying for a service, but usually because they feel like they are getting the better end of the deal and it shuts the bitch up and gives them what they want.  I realized that it was the opposite of the sex worker that I had always been.  Especially the opposite of the agency hustler.  Take no shit girl.  Steal your weed when you turn your back girl.  Kick your door in if you try to rob or rape me, kick in your car door, make your life a psychotic whore’s revenge story…

Independent escort work can be just as dangerous and bring equal shady characters who are just as ready to disrespect and fly into a rage, but the added drama of the agency girls who work with you assure situations that can only exist in the classic 2 girl agency scenario that is a regular occurance for most girls who work together.  I refuse to do 2 girl shows after that incident, except that I just did one the other night, which I knew was a recipe for disaster.  You have to assert yourself and tell these bitch ass bookers “NO.  FOUR guys and 2 girls with just 1 driver is not safe.  Especially when you know that you have to ditch because she plans to ditch and even though you might hoe, she doesn’t so you have to do what she does, unless there is a way to separate in different rooms.  And the other scenario of sex work I’ve also had a taste of has been brothel prostitution.  The customer is always right.  And your co-workers are also scandalous bitches.  Some can be nice, but none can really trusted.  Is getting Tabasco sauce poured on your laptop and then getting kicked out of the brothel for “lying about it” violence against sex workers?  Brothel life gone bad looks like a jail cell and that has to do with the systematic violence that allows brothels to operate the way that they do legally.  It works like a cult or a gang does, playing favorites and pitting the workers against each other, hoping they break each other down…

After leaving LA to go to the brothel to earn money where there wasn’t any in LA, I arrived home and found the agency that I worked with for over a year.  I left that life because the violence and risk was too much for me to handle and I was holding up my relationship and a non profit with this income and I just could not do it any longer.  Especially when other crazy sex workers are constantly being so ungrateful and bitching me out and blaming me for various things, pulling me into their violence, acting out on me..

Violence Against Sex Workers is the Green River Killer and the Canadian pig farmer but, it is the serial killers and Barb Wires within us that boil with rage like the movies Highway and Monster that fight to the death for decent human treatment and living wages (or donations).  It is the agencies, pimps, brothels and management that police and the government defer to to control us.  It is the criminalization of our very need to earn a living in a sexist world.  It is the anger I face everytime a guy yells at me for not fucking him for $60, it is the anger that tests me to kill a man when he puts his fingers on my chest and pushes me out of his door…It is the violence that is acted out on ourselves, punishing ourselves with drugs and bad relationships repeating the cycle of destruction on our selves, taking out our rage on our community members and co-workers.  There were so many conflicting feelings that filled me as I reflected this December 17th.  But, aside from this blog, I don’t think I have ever really yet had a space to sum it all up..

04
Oct
09

The Vulture vs. The SuperWhore

Like a Hollywood movie, this episode seems to have a sequel which takes place the very next day!

I went through my now sold iphone’s phonebook to look for names of old regulars that I could do a desperate begging to and see if that would work to get more business, even though that has never worked in the past.  Although, it does work with the one regular law firm benefactor that is keeping me afloat barely but regularly..we’ve become good friends and I am completely honest about everything except the sex!  He’s easy.  He is not a vulture, he is like a savior for me right now.  But, his 2 appointments are not enough to pay for too much in the month so the trolling through the old phonebook still has to happen.  There was one old regular drug user fuckhead that I dropped because he was becoming more trouble than he was worth.  He would always text me incessantly while he was coked out about 100 stupid questions that I would try to answer because putting up with him was a good injection of cash, and he was always so high he was impotent so we would explore different ways to sexually please him.  Mostly by sticking most of my gloved hand into his ass which because he was high as a kite most of the time was like 102 degrees in there!  This is something I never hear people who fist people talk about..it’s like a frigging  oven inside the human body, it becomes too hot for the hand and you actually need to pull out so that you can cool it.  Or at least I do.  But I had fun.  I like anal domination.

As a favor to him, I decided to screw his friend for a mere $150.  A fraction of what I would get from my regular Ass Slave, Kenny.  Big mistake.  His friend was immediately too buck wild for me to control and it just became too much of an ordeal as soon as it started.  he was the one who tried to stick in my ass instead of my pussy, on accident, like 3 times.   I get the feeling most escorts like their sex easy.  It’s the porn stars today that need to be super fuck machines.  Escorting is barely about being a fuck machine.  Sex is like 35% of it actually.  I like my escort sex as a receiver to be EASY  and QUICK. (when you see a lot of people it’s usually about preserving your body.  A wear and tear issue).  Unless I like the guy and am having lots of fun.  Or there’s a girl involved, then there’s no clock!  Mostly,  I am a big fan of the 35 minute hour.  I know I am not in this work because I like sex.  I am in this work because I am regaining power from times I was assaulted, one night standed, sexually harassed or otherwise disempowered.   And I believe all sex workers have this in them too, because 1 out 3 of us have been sexually assaulted by 21 but most of us more.   I am here because I like to be in control sexually, and to experiment while the ball is in my court, when my experimental time is compensated.  I LIKE TO LIVE, IF ONLY TEMPORARILY IN A WORLD WHERE FEMALE SEXUAL POWER IS NOT ONLY POSSIBLE, BUT COMPENSATED.  WHERE WOMEN FUCK LIKE [MEN]..out the door without a second thought of the name of the person..  I am also here because I like making money off this work (even if I’m not lately..).  Because I want to feel the power I knew that I had and make him pay for it.  I like to fuck but only when I like you or when I am sexually deprived (like now!), but I wasn’t really having very real sex with clients during the 2 years that I was the busiest AND had a live in boyfriend.  Client sex was always quick and easy.  Boom.  Shower.  thank you.  Door.   Personal sex is totally different.  I’m actually submissive and more passive.  I’m tired of working.  I like to lay back.  I like to GET fucked.  And if you can’t FUCK THE SHIT OUT OF ME when I need you to, then I am totally and completely bored with you, because I’ve no patience for another pathetic penis in my week.  (I sleep with more men than women, not by choice but we’ll use that organ..)

Lately, however, since being single and getting kicked off of internet dating sites that I was getting laid on for selling webcam services to ugly dudes I’ve had to make my client sex my sex life.  I make them work me and they are the luckiest clients I’ve ever had because i am really insatiable for once because….It’s all I get for days.

But this fool was a girls worst nightmare.  Coked out AND potent!  Oh no!  They have a saying that the less money you get, the harder you have to get fucked, and often it is true.  After borderline violating me he would call my phone offering money and trying to see me again, but I never wanted to see him after that for any money.  I jumped out of bed when I could make a good exit, locked the door and jumped into the shower.  I could hear him grumbling and complaning.  Drug users are either unable to ever cum or unable to get erect.  Of COURSE you prefer the latter, because for some reason they pay better and are easier.  All you have to do is digest their mindless questions and repetetive chatter.  This vulture accepted that I was leaving and it wasn’t uncomfortable or dangerous which is why he was confused.  He was talking about “If you got a boyfriend or if you’re under 18..hey I ain’t mad at you.”  That was another line that this vulture just drew.  This guy was over 30 fucking 17 year olds.  I have ALWAYS detested that.  When I was 15 my 25 year old boss tried to sleep with me and date me when I was just trying to be his friendly co-worker, I thought.  He didn’t get me, but he tried really hard to court me at 15 like I was such a hot item.

The vulture would call and try to dangle promises of money for me, i would still not give in.  Because my caller ID had been cancelled, screening calls was harder.  Every time I would be confronted with him, circling over my head, the offer, the juggling of power..I imagined how he would prey on those underage girls who may have run away for the night because they get into a fight with their parents and he swoops down gives them drugs and alcohol and fucks the shit out of them.  Roman Polanski in a Latino tweaker.

My finnancial desperation makes me vulnerable to all kinds of pimps and vultures…Good thing I still know how to defend myself even when I am at rock bottom.  I would rather be flat broke and home alone on a Saturday night than in a fucked up situation.  And pimps hate me when I am unhappy with them and the work.  I am not profitable, so they fire me.  I got kicked out of Bella’s brothel after one week.  I get fired from office jobs for not engaging in Starbucks banter AND I get fired from massage parlors and stripclubs.  I am not a conformist, even as a sex worker.  I am certainly not a harem pony gawking over one guy with three others.  This has hurt my money I’m sure, but the ONLY way I have profted is when I was totally in control, if not disproportianately so, with their consent of course.  And years of this has healed me.  I walk down the streets of LA without a bra (cuz I hate them and my boobs are small) and without fear of men.  If they look at me, I look at them back and then they usually look away or say hi.  I might wear a look that says ” Yes, you know what I’m about..I know you have a dick and to me it doesn’t mean shit,so, what?”  even in glasses and sweatpants.  Working girls make eye contact back usually.  Matching the gaze.  “Go Ahead.  Ask me what my name is.”  The superwhore eye contact is an amazing language.  Try it when you drive by the boulevard at night.  If you were wondering if she is a working girl, you will be able to tell if she makes eye contact with you as you drive by.  Works everywhere you go.  It fascinates the shit out of me…

So I call Analboy kenny and he pretends he doesn’t know me.  “Wrong number,”he says when I call.  Later that night I’m getting a series of crank calls, but I don’t answer my landline anymore because that is the main number that most of the creditors call on.

My tutoring client is a Korean graduate student ane she cancelled on me, so once again I had no money coming in, gas light still on.  A weed client calls!  (I’m not a big pot dealer (so don’t come after me!), someone fronted me some of his stuff and it kind of acts like my social security check..It is not even the type of marijuana that medicates me (need indicas only), so I just sell it off.  This weed client is a tweaker.  He thinks that I don’t know but I have been around 3 years of drug users and late nite escorting so I am well versed in the signs and behaviors.  He is a nice tweaker, if there is such a thing,  a student.  He buys my mediocre weed and it helps me have that $20 in my pocket every week but I usually try to hang out for the obligatory 20 minutes talking politics, philosophy, whatever.  He’s too broke to buy sex so this will have to do for him.  and me.

kenny calls back and pretends to be friendly.  He says that he’s moved 40 minutes north of LA and that he had a bunch of coke and his friend was there..He is talking the way a DUDE talks when he is in front of his BUDDIES.  “I’ll just give you a buck fifty to hang out with my friend.” he says,”You did it before right?” he laughs.  “You don’t have to do much, just hang out and party..”he says.  This is usually what we would do anyway.  kenny was easy, but Vulture was not.  You would think, as an escort that I have to put up with this kind of crap all the time, but really the specific type of banter that goes on before men date or gang rape or the language that is common in rape culture scenarios is NOT something that I call normal or really tolerate for long in my sex work.  Many many of the men and groups of men that I fucked with were reasonable, humble and not vultures, even in groups.  There was a lot of crap to put up with, no doubt but fear and anxiety were not common or normal.  This is why I did it for so long.  To find this out.  To dance with rape culture, unconscious exposure therapy to try to make sense of the world that I feel was given to me.

All of what the guys that talk like this is just a FANTASY to them as well.  I once tried to have sex with 2 guys at once, the way they do in the porn movies because after seeing a double penetration so many times, you are actually conditioned to think that you want to try it!  And while I say i’m not in this work for the sex, the benefits of being a sex worker who is enticed with way more than usual combinations of sexual situations than the average suburban bachelorette party girl has its advantages.  So I did a DP for about 2 minutes before guy#2 gets flaccid and taps out.  “Uh, you guys go ahead, I’m gonna go chill in the other room..” he says and since my ULTIMATE goal is to make money over pleasure or experimentation I let him go.  There goes my porno gang bang fantasy.

The reality for MOST MEN is that they cannot do what porn stars do.  This is the reality for many women too.  I will be the first to admit to you, unless you are an escort client that I cannot legally talk explicit details of sex with, that I do not give PORN STAR EXPERIENCES (listed as PSE on review boards, even nastier than GFE).  I don’t go ass to mouth, I don’t do anal for dayz, I don’t do uprotected, I won’t eat your ass without a dental dam and I don’t like to blow bubbles with your semen..Sorry.  After watching all the porn that I do, I don’t really have a desire to be a porn star.  It seems more demanding than I am willing to be.  But for them it seems so easy and natural, so that’s why they do it and I don’t! when I wanted to go into porn, when I was 23, in Jenna Jameson’s day, it was easier physically, glamorous even.

Being a superwhore is more a state of mind versus how freaky the sex you are having or how much money you are making…but don’t get me wrong, the MONEY IS ESSENTIAL. This is why I am having so many problems with vultures and pimps.  If I was already making money they would have no power.  Annie Pannie was a sex worker I also recently mentored, 62 years young, powered by crystal meth and a superwhore always, even though she only made $10-20 per date.  She was insane but a true inspiration in small doses.

A 50 year old rocker woman just TRIED to pimp or madam me.  She showed me the garage to the apartment complex.  “You can park in the maintanence spots, they’re always empty.” she said.  “There’s my red corvette.” she said pointing out a 2005 or later model red corvette.  “It’s like my 5th one..”  I was viewing her 2 bedroom incall.  It was dirty like the last space I shared with the borderline disorder masseuse that I hated.  I am not the cleanest person at all but these bitches are always filthier than me.  Dirty toilet.  Never dusted.  One cheap unfluffy towel.   “I make sooo much money on Fridays.  I love it.  If my friends want me to go out, I tell them, ‘it better be worth $2000!’ and I listen to her tell me how her main advertising sources are Craigslist and Cityvibe.  I have worked Craigslist through an agnecy for almost 3 years and I know what people are paying and the type of clientele that she sees.  You cannot make $2000 being straight up and not doing the hustle that we were doing.  Collectively, my old agency was everywhere at once.  We were doing incall and outcall in every suburb of LA county with drivers to drive us.  That’s the only way you COULD do it and never with just one body in one place.  No one person makes that much, just being incall for $200 a pop without tipping.  That’s 10 guys in 12 hours!  Not even brothels try to promise that, although they would wish it upon you.  You could make half that at best running around all night, and in this economy it’s even doubtful they’re making 1/3.  No one is making $2000 on one Friday nite off of Craigslist and Cityvibe.  but I let her talk her talk.  I would have to see it to believe it and she was the one asking me to work for her, so if she had the clientele she said she did I would give it a try.  The next day we were supposed to meet at around 5 pm turned to 7:30 turned to 10pm.  When she finally picks up the phone she says,”Oh hey sweetie..Do you have a credit card with $5 on it so we can place an ad?”  WTF?? “No.” I said,”Sorry.”  I hear a voice in the background like a woman is at her place, probably another prospect. “Well, do you have a friend who does?”she says,”It’s only $5.”  I am so glad I am home cooking a meal instead of over there at that ratbag’s apartment.  “I’ll call you back.” I say hanging up Ms.Red Corvette that probably wasn’t even hers.  Jesus.  If you are trying to pimp me, you have to have MORE than me, not LESS.  Why would I give someone a part of my income if they didn’t have their shit together TIGHT.  My old agency had the pimp game tight with CUNT BOOKER BITCHES who would even make money being the voice of “me” demanding $100 cancellation fees from dudes that called a different picture off of Craigslist.  And sometimes these guys would hand me $100!  (Of which cunt booker would take half) and that was the kind of typical agency hustle that would happen.  If it weren’t her, then you would have some goon driver to back you up.  I never did it that way, I preferred to endure all the verbal and possible physical confrontations myself.  Exposure therapy.  or something else I haven’t processed yet.

I tell Kenny I am going to deliver something first and I’ll call back to get the address.  It took about 30 minutes for the anxiety attack to come on…I imagined attempting to have to tell Vulture no and how irritating and potentially dangerous that could be.  I imagined just getting fucked up and putting myself in a risky sexual situation because my life was so depressing and perhaps I might go home with some money…Drugs would be nice..Money would be nice.. but vulture, he would never be nice.  And vulture + kenny would not be nice.  They would be irritating and annoying, and I would be high on drugs, far away from my house.

I facebooked my process.  Insatiable pull to do something risky.  self destructive.  I wanted to go there and make money and come out ahead.  I did not want to let those fools get to me.  But I was having a PTSD attack and starting to feel sick to my stomach.  I was smoking bong hits to calm my nerves.  I finally got the nerve to get up and get to my delivery.  I resolved that I was not going to see kenny and vulture.  While almost to my delivery spot, a car came out of nowhere and I almost hit it 10 minutes away from my destination.  This is how I know it is what I call a PTSD attack..it becomes unsafe for me to drive because I start to dissassociate, to leave my body.  I usually come back pretty quick, but its better if I’m not driving.  It’s scary.  Your body is trying to protect itself but it doesn’t do a good job of it when it’s in this mode.

I get to tweakerkids house..”Hey,” he says and I’m glad to see him.

He hops in my car and he pays me.

“You got any other drugs?” I ask.

“Yeah, [thought you’d never ask] You wanna come in?” he says.

He’s chillin with a Latino 20 something, smokin a little meth and watching music videos, nothing too crazy…

I need to decompress my thoughts with someone, anyone.  Facebook helped a bit but I could tell I needed more…The idea of the proposition of going to see Vulture and kenny actually sent me into a post traumatic anxiety attack and I didn’t even go over there!  It was the prospect of having to face someone that had violated you again.  I’ve done it before and i don’t like it, although in my case it was at a funeral and it worked out well but still clearly my body did not like it judging from how much I was freaking out.

I wanted to do drugs to escape these feelings.  I knew that he would have something.  Not my drug of choice but something.  I was seeking safety.  this concept is straight out of a clinical book I am reading to heal myself.  We call it “medicating” even though it is drinking, smoking weed or something else because it is how we have coped.

I hit the glass pipe and watched the white meth smoke make a long cloud…bigger than the exhale of marijuana smoke.  I did that about 7 or 8 times and told them about my definition of anal violation and why I was even tripping.  2 other guys listening to my story and not hurting me.  My weed client and I were used to having intellectual conversations about various things and that’s why he liked me but I’m sure his best friend was shocked by me.  “I’m an escort, right,”I say,”and I’m having this dilemma…” i know it’s not a normal intro to someone but I’m far from normal most of the time. I stayed for another hour, the drugs were weak.  I wasn’t getting that high.  I suppose I was supposed to stay all nite and all morning.  “We can go out and get some more.” he said but i didn’t want to. “I didn’t know you do this..”he said smiling..

“I don’t.” I said.  “Tonight is just crazy. I need something, that’s all.”

I drove away from there, straight to the gas station to make my needle go from E to F with glee, and realized I wasn’t tweaked at all.  In hour later I was in bed.  I thought I set my cell phone alarm but apparently I didn’t press the DONE button.  I woke up late and with an $80 ticket on my car.  the 2nd one in a week.  My therapist tried to blame it on me smoking meth, but smoking meth with them was my harm reduction.  It was the best thing I did for myself in comparison to going to try to fuck with the original proposition of seeing if indeed they wanted me to come over there to just “hang out.”  I texted him before I went to bed “I CAN’T FUCK WITH YOUR FRIEND.”  I didn’t even know if it was a real proposition either, because Kenny didn’t even call again after I went to sleep.  and usually he would call back a million times but he didn’t.  It made me think in the morning that it was all a hoax.  They were going to lead me 40 minutes into a fake address for nothing.

Everyone is so freaked out by crystal meth.  Having hung out with queen of long term use, Candy, the one I was an unofficial social worker for, I should be freaked out by it too.  Having overdosed in the desert and landed in the emergency tent with a rehydration needle in my neck, you would think I’d be freaked out by it too..  But it doesn’t call me to do it.   I do it so very rarely just to triumph over that time I did it in the desert ten years ago.  In total I’ve done it less times than you are probably thinking right now.  The side effects are so major and long term compared to the high though.  For the next two days my throat was soo insatiably dry.  But I didn’t even get high, which what was annoying.  I went to sleep!  My anxiety was gone, and perhaps that was the high.  Like Ridlin for the ADHD kid.  I talked and these boys listened and maybe that was the high I needed.  I had no fear and no regret and that was the best thing that I could have done with the way I was feeling.  In some people’ (like my exboyfriend)’s minds I hit the evil crystal pipe and I was on my way to hell.  To me, I sought safety in it and in these other strange dudes who I was more sure were not trying to hurt me.  And I sat there smoking and educating them for a minute and then I went home calm.  I sit here blogging it trying to explain, but hopefully someone out there reads this and has been through something similar.  It’s called Seeking Safety.  It’s a book I’m reading about PTSD and drug use, but I’m adapting it to marijuana use which I don’t actually see as drug use… I smoke weed everyday and I don’t see it as a drug.  Other drugs I might sell or do with clients when they come around, but I don’t usually seek them.  They fall in my lap.  This particular night, however, I sought them to block my path to self destruction.  It was a substitution reckless for another reckless act, but since i didn’t really get high, it was not that destructive.  I fantasize about being on the border of creating a new sickness, an addiction which countless drug addicts have done to make sense of all in life that is so troubling and so traumatic but not physically visible.  So they create diseases and absesses so the world can see them suffering, or at least if not the world, they themselves can see it.  I am not there.  or even close.  yet.

i  may likely indulge  in recreational/casual and impulsive drug use (like this) well into my late 50s or beyond as long as it is around me.  Meth is just another drug, not more powerful than the others but one I stay away from because of the harsh side effects to my singing muscle (so drastically even after one use)  and my real dreams.  i remember Candy used to call me and he voice wasn’t understandable, the meth smoke had mangled her vocal chords for the week and maybe longer, the words fading in and out with so much strain.  Listening to Whitney Houston’s voice after cocaine is such a shocker.  She was the greatest love of all!  A gold medal Olympic level vocal athlete..and on this tune “i didn’t know my strenghth” she sounds like older Patti LaBelle.  or Taylor Dayne.  Worse.

Sex work does not always have to be risky, deceptful or include drugs.  But for me to usually profit, it had to include one, the other or both.  Right now, I am not advertising, work is slow so risks are cut down,  I’m not on Craigslist cuz they blocked me, I’m not on the corner… or crusing bars in downtown hotels even.  I cut out bad regulars like Kenny (again) but mostly I quit my traumatic and risky agency job.  Independent escorting doesn’t pay the bills for me, unfortunately I only really made most of my money being the “bait and switch” closer who stayed up and drove 3 nights a week til 6am.

I should be rewarded for reducing risk, but instead I am paying the price of retiring from a lifestyle that I struggled to hold on to as long as I could..making money was constantly traumatic like this…that’s why I quit.  this is why I am broke.  If I could work for a real madam or pimp who booked Elliot Spitzer types of clients then I’d be happier.  But there are also risks there.  now you’re in Federal outlaw territory where speaking out will land you tied to a roof with a noose around your neck and suicide note in your handwriting that you didn’t write.  (DC Madam, Brandy Britton)  But I like pure risk free non dangerous clients that compensate well too.  And I feel like I deserve them but don’t know how to get them.  And of course everyone knows what I am doing wrong but me and how I could or should be making more money like them.   Instead I’ve been a hustler on the agency circuit, craigslist hustler, internet whore…Any big money I ever made always included one of us fucked up on drugs or alcohol.  And it usually wasn’t me.  And I don’t feel bad for it at all because if it wasn’t me collecting their money during their blackouts, it would some other bitch.

#2 HOE COMMANDMENT

If you are in it to win it, you MUST remain MORE sober than them.  If you stay slightly in more control than them, you will usually profit triple.  Do drugs to socialize and gain trust but not to get fucked up. If you sell it, don’t carry it on you, cut it down and tax it triple.  (Buying from me is like buying a beer at a football game.  You willingly and repeatedly consent to any inflation.)

Everyone has PTSD.  The world is so traumatic.  We seek to replay these traumatic sequences and do something about them, to regain control.  And I like a superwhore trying to save myself and the world, could have it no other way which is why I never felt like sex work is always a choice.  I was like one of the superheroes who found out about their super power when animal hairs started growing on their back..and my fate also has been very similar…stripping started to set me free, and real sex for money set me more free.  Smoking meth and going to sleep is not the usual prescription for harm reduction, but I have to say, I am very glad that I resisted all I did and came out ahead without even fighting.




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