Fell Along

I am not wasting another navelgrazing word on him.

Seriously.

It's embarrassing, I'm embarrassed, by all of it.

My good god.

I just got home from work tonight; it was all right, I brought my neighbor Lena... I don't know if I've even mentioned Lena because I've only been seeing her the last few days and wasn't blogging...

She's a beautiful, angelfaced, mystical doll. She's right across the hall. She's brought her dog over here, and Madeline was like, Lena just looked at her with that angelic smile and Maddy chilled out, and they got along. My crazy cat and a dog. A dog who will just sit right next to L for indefinite periods of time and not budge.

She's a dog whisperer. And a painter. 21. Never danced before. But I knew I could tell her, and I had no qualms about bringing her, and we went in and Vinnie was like, you're in good hands, this is the best girl here! And showed her how my polaroid had a big #1 on it. Haha. He was like all the girls ask Why is SHE number one, she's never here!! And he's like Because she just is!

So that's me at the club. It was really nice going with Lena. And hanging out with her. She didn't make much but the guys are all over her, I told her she's just gotta learn to swing the dance thing and be a liiiiittle pushy and not waste time with those who aren't shelling.

We're both exhausted though. I told her, it is draining.

I have a show tomorrow at KGB. And some filming the next day. I DON'T have a whole bunch of empty fillable time.

I don't have a whole bunch of money.

I need to stop seeing him.

I was so upset this afternoon. I don't even know why. He wrote me a letter. He told me how to get this carousel at the park where he goes hiking. It's all in my head. And it's breaking the bank.

And it's breaking me.

I'm broke.

Independence Day Set List

I was onstage ALL goddamn night, so this is a longie:

1. Sex Type Thing- Stone Temple Pilots
2. Darling Nikki- Prince
3. Dirt- Iggie Pop
4. Empire State of Mind- Jay-Z
5. Fell on Black Days- Soundgarden
6. Turn the Page- Bob Seger
7. Bone Machine- Pixies
8. Possom Kingdon- Toadies
7. Never There- Cake
8. 15 Step- Radiohead
9. Creep- Radiohead
10. Lie to Me- Jonny Lang

And-- cuz there were so few of us there and hard to work a guy when you gotta be on stage every 15 minutes, we were usually up for two in a row onstage, so a lot of those were back to back.... Turn the Page followed by Bone Machine.... WORK, man... I'm all achy and bruised... and I was dancing private dances in between ALL my turns onstage... the poor sap whose money I inhaled all evening... I had Vinnie let me sneak out the back so he wouldn't see me leave cuz he thought he was taking me home... I said, "Poor sod. He's not even drunk." Vinnie said. "It'll hit him when the lights come up." I said, "Don't these people know it's a scam?" He said, "The idiots in here. Unbelievable."

Hahaha.

actually part 2

i love you guys. thanks so much for your comments... you're right it was a low point and i need to start dealing with those better because the self-flagellating is pointless. but i'm, thanks to beautiful spirits, and thanks to J, getting better at coping with my lows.

i made myself go to sunny's. i'm so glad i did. it was great, and i got em to come too, and it was a mexican bar with BuildYourOwnBloodyMary's and 7 years of bartending experience (yes I started when I was 17) I've perfected my Bloody. to a science. so everyone kept asking me to make them a Bloody and then the bartenders loved me cuz i was bringing in the loot for them... and one was really hot and i gave him my number. Sunny's friends are sweet, and Sunny is an angel, a total lightweight who always gets drunk at her birthday and is a really really SWEET drunk. i, having not eaten all day, got drunk off my one Bloody, too.

and then I went straight to work, and Vinnie wasn't pissed at all, just a sweetheart to me as always. tonight was a workout and a half. i probably spent 3 hours out of 4 actually dancing, cuz there were only 4 girls there and i gave a bunch of table dances too. i was sweating my ass off on the walk home. i made like $400 too. and it was a dead night. thank GOD.

i ran into my two gay neighbors on the way home and they were loaded up and we chatted for like 20 minutes and one's a mechanic and gonna look at my car for free.

i feel better. but my phone is just straight NOT working anymore. it's bad. i need to figure that out. and i was gonna pay my rent right now but i cannot find my damn checkbook. so i'm gonna look for it tomorrow. it's 3 here.

Psychic

what's more interesting.

psychic powers? i had a bunch of that going on this weekend. at the parties with the unfathomable tax-bracket contingent. bent down to the floor to pick up glass that shattered right AFTER i was down there. called kim's son by his name before they told me it. later talking to her said wow, thats gotta suck having to move out of your house for 6 months after you just got back there. she was like, yeah, its an interesting life, we're adjusting with D's work. paul was like oh you're filming now? and i realized he hadn't told me that so i didn't know how i knew. sunday we ran into his friend i'd met and i asked him Oh how did Monica's show go? and he was like Oh it was great and paul was like How did you know she had a show? and I was just like, oh, he mentioned it the other week... and Paul was like jesus you have a good memory.

He ran into his psychic (" ") saturday and I just made a joke like, pshh I'm more psychic than all the psychics. and he just goes for condescension- You're more psychic than all the psychics? Hehe, yeah yep. So, what's going to happen to me? And I said, sincerely thinking about it, I don't see the future, I see the present... So he makes another jokey joke- so what's happening to me now? Am I... going to a party tonight? And I said, Yes!

Hardiharhar.

But no. Maybe, for you atheists (and Christians, k :-) ) I can accept that maybe I had just heard these things, overheard, and not realized... It's totally plausible. And as for the glass breaking, maybe, I dunno, I thought I just saw glass on the ground... It doesn't matter.

But Paul is sick of people laughing at my jokes so much. And doesn't like me talking so much. When I'm alone with him, I know to talk nonsense, I know to keep my mouth shut when he says things that make my blood boil. Because, that's how you act with men, that you don't really love, that are taking you out and about. But when I'm around other people, more kindred spirits, I want to connect... I want to have fun... He brings me to these things, dresses me up in his personal richbitch haute hippie understated style (which I can appreciate but get really sick of his stupid compliments, as if I haven't fucking heard it, as if I can't see right through the fact that he wants me to look moneyed so that I don't look like a gold-digger), and wants people to like me and think he has a catch, this funny, confident, knowledgeable chick, right? But, oh, not TOO much. Not to OUTSHINE.

These fucking games.

And psychic? Maybe not. But I can see. I can see people's colors. And I can see through him.

And I'm exhausted.

short update

short posts cuz i only got time when he's takin the dog out for a pee and im being surreptitious, on Private Browsing

felt sour earlier... he wouldnt even buy me sunglasses... kept talking about his client M---- huge superstar involved in scandal with lady of my ethnic background and musician whose music is very similar to mine about how she sucked and was a whore and wants his money, and kept saying how women blablabla and he wouldnt wanna just buy them stuff.... implied he wouldnt be me a cheapass 12 dollar pair of sunglasses and he's a zillionaire who doesnt work.

i, not even totally deliberately, started acting real glum.

so then he bought me $200 swimwear.

haha.

and now we're going to the ocean.

feeling a little better.

be home later.

xxxx

rough waves splashing

So here I am, woken up, a bit disoriented and surprised, in this gorgeous incredible little chateau, to the sound of rough waves splashing and the gray mist that covers it all in Southern California til the rays of the sun burn it off around 11, leaving a sparkle instead of the gray gray that I've always loved and associated with seas.

My old Russian strip-club trick of getting myself too crunked to move worked like a charm, and I all I had to do was cuddle a bit before passing right out in the comfortable bed. Haha.

Paul was still sleeping when I woke up at 8, and got up and looked around. Not unhappy to be where I am. Now he's up and has taken his dog, Lenny Bruce for a walk. And here I am, blogging on this superfast computer with three sides of floor to ceiling windows making me feel like I'm blogging atop the stormy high tide waves of Malibu.

Last night was nice. All the music industry below-the-line famous folks are very, very nice. I didn't drink at all. W---A--- wasn't there, nor Elliot, so it was a little dull at times. But very nice. Everyone was very, very nice. This could be all right, this Coco Before Chanel thing.

Paul has W.A's book right here and I wanna crack it open and read it, but he was talking about him last night to friends, what they're working on together and how they met and all that, and I said one thing about him being a great writer and he gave me a LOOK. So I shut it for the rest of the conversation and now don't think I ought to be peeping his book right here. Oh well. There are other books I can grab as I crawl back into the bed.

Pretty morning, all in all.

Don't Do It.

Okay.

Now I've just spent an hour reading WA essays from Atlantic Monthly and New Yorker each truly more fucking brilliant than the last, I am sitting here quite literally Ling O really L, and listening to interviews and I've half a mind to... write him an e-mail.

I will not.

I will not.

I will not do this.

NO, Scarlet, no, do not be a whore, ye who spoke so hypocritically over dinner about sex industry workers and their tragic fate. ye who are 24 years old. just fucking stop it.

okay.

ok.

Sigh.

Among top 5 moments shared w literary journalist/critic/essayist/ivyleague professor/awardwinning novelist W.A:

W.A. (re: Paul literally forgetting his wallet...) Yeah, that's, that's like saying you forgot your penis at home...

W.A's GF: (laugh laugh) We were at the Halloween store in NY, and he was going to get me something, and I was like Oh no, I'll pay for it, and he wouldn't let me, he was like, Don't, that's making my dick shrink...

S: HA!!! That's GREAT--

W.A's GF: All the salesgirls were like OMG!!!

P: What is this about?

W.A: Amanda wanted to pay for something and I told her my dick shrinks every time a woman says that...

S: God, I would've CLAPPED. Like, thank GOD. I mean, really, actually, like, MY dick shrinks every time a woman says that...

W.A: HA!!!!

The Art of Whore

The title of this post is not supposed to be self-effacing OR ACCURATE, I just thought of it and find it funny.

Anyway.

I was telling J how I did the math and realized I'll be okay money-wise, that it's been dead at the club, but I always manage to squeeze out of there with a buck-fifty minimum, like it always comes SOMEHOW by the end of the night even after tipout, and that the other girls are all really over me by now, because they'll walk out of there with like fifteen, thirty, sixty, on these nights... and I totally understand it because sometimes I'll be sitting there for the first two or three hours and there's like nary a soul around, and I'm like, wow, I'm gonna make ten dollars tonight... But it doesn't happen, and he was like what is it that makes you better at it? So, I'm gonna break it down here. My secrets. The art of the club.

It took me a while to get this... I think like with everything, it's just kinda practice, and I've never really thought about it, but it's kinda like this:

First. If you walk in and one of your regulars is there, you go sit with them obviously, but if they're talking to another girl, you just come with a warm, familiar friendly hello, smile and nod at the lady, and say okay well I'll talk to you in a bit...

If there aren't any regulars, you don't go up to anyone until you go onstage. You go onstage, scope out the crowd, see how people react while you're up there, then take a moment after you get off and go around and gently talk to all of them, slowly approaching, just smiling, see if they're open to talking, ask if they enjoyed the show, everything slowly, clocking the reactions... If they're cheap and at all reluctant to tip, or try to be smartasses, or talk a big game, forget about them completely. Don't even look at 'em again. Usually I'll find one guy who really wants to talk, buys you a drink... Sit down with this guy... See if he's smart, sweet, lonely, hip, nerdy, whatever. Behave accordingly. Match his pace, intelligence, and his sense of humor.

Do not ask if he wants a dance. Stick with him. Wait til your turn onstage again, and he'll tip you a lot when you're up there, which usually makes others do the same, and more interested, cuz they see you're devoting your attention to one guy and not all desperate. Also, obviously, see how much he's tipping, because if he likes you, he'll tip what he can afford, and sometimes that's peanuts, and call for a *graceful exit.

Now, by the time a guy has talked to you for a bit, and feels like he knows you, it's usually totally okay to say, Ok! You stickin' around? I'm just gonna go make the rounds for a bit and see if I can get any dances... Make it kinda funny, and they'll usually be like, Oh of course, do what ya gotta do, or, Hey, aren't you gonna ask me? That way you cover all the bases, and always have someone to go back to and sit with... While you're making the rounds, another girl might come up to them, and ask them for a dance, and they'll be totally overit, and whenever you come back to them they'll want to talk to you.

A lot of the girls will just come up to the guys at the beginning of the night and ask for a dance or talk to them for a second and then walk away and whine in the dressing room how he's cheap and not tipping. Stupid. Most guys who come in early and aren't regulars are lonely and want to like, feel like they're special and have a special connection with a girl, and don't wanna feel like they're being hustled, even though that's exactly what's going on.

Now, later in the night, gets more packed and people are more drunk, I still don't go up and just ask for a dance right off the bat. Again, see who's watching you onstage, and only initiate the dance thing, with the guy you've been chatting to, or the new people who've been watching you, if there's a "Two for One," which is all the frickin' time, like every four songs. Make it sound like a deal, obviously. Explain it earnestly and slowly like a bimbo.

And, of course it helps to be really pretty, and a good dancer. Always seem like you're in a good mood. DON'T COMPLAIN, already. And everything slooooow, slow, slow. These girls just ambush the duders or come at them like vultures. Some of them come on really strong and basically scare the guys into getting dances, and it works for them, but it's not necessary. And besides you don't wanna make your money with dances. I only do that on a shitty night. It means a cut of your earnings, and the really big spenders don't usually get them...

*As far as walking away from a duder, always be cheerful and nice about it and say you'll be around and come back in a bit. Even if you're never ever going near the cheap bastard again.

That's about it. It's pretty obvious and intuitive but kind of hard to perfect. Also... It kinda helps to not be friends with the other girls. They waste their time hanging together and complaining when it's slow and get caught up drinking together and being assholes. Get really LOOSE, I mean, it's never a good idea to turn down a drink... And you wanna be relaxed and fun. And seem a little drunk. But never get drunk. You just lose your focus and sometimes your money.

Yep. That's it.

Into It.

Again, I love my job.

Sometimes it feels like the only thing I can do well.

I went to this crazy taxidermy demonstration with Emily- she's always on some weird shit like that- and I was debating on going to work, because, well, the money wouldn't hurt, and getting out of the house wouldn't hurt, and sitting at home writing Julian e-mails on Saturday night probably would hurt somebody. But it was like ten to eight and I was still at the taxidermy thing up the straight getting a little antsy and a little nauseous, and Vinnie called me and said, "Casper!"- his new epithet for me, since I disappear all the time, hah- so I said, "Boo." So he laughed and then told me he would love it if I came in tonight if I needed to etc, so how could I say no. And I came in and didn't even go into the dressing room or talk to any girls and sat down and then went onstage and the cash just FLOWED its way onto me all night. I made up my large, large, large outstanding balance to J and then went home.

Man. If I made that much every night and worked like, three times a WEEK... I'd be flowing in it. Like... FLOWING in excess cash. Hahaha. But I feel like it doesn't work that way. Like the more you go in the less you make. For some reason. Just a matter of being over-it I guess.

But I was not over-it last night.

I was into it.

I love dancing. I love spinning. And twirling. And splits. And climbing up and hanging upside down and mouthing all the lyrics to all my songs and scooping up the dollars and throwing them over my head during the chorus.

And I love the mindblown dudes saying "I am here for joo, joo aarre so byoooteefull, what do joo need?"

And saying:

"Hmmm, a hundred? One of those twenties. Two, actually. And another beverage. Thanks much."

So what?

Okay so I turned in my Meg Ryan card a little while ago.

So okay, my story does not have quite the moral backbone of Jane Austen. Or even Helen Fielding.

So Miley Cyrus won't be playing me in the movie of my life.

So what.

Stop. Stop. Stopstopstopstop

I know what I'm gonna do, I'm gonna do what he did, I'm gonna say I've been meaning to ask you....... I know you don't do this, but.................... can you refer me to someone for that sedative thing that doesn't slow you down?

HA!!!!!!!!

I don't have the balls!

He changed my appointment to EIGHT PM ON FRIDAY.

Thank god I'm a little slow, because I never react to anything, because it doesn't process til later. I KNOW, it's meaningless, I KNOW. But Jesus Mary and Joseph. EIGHT PM ON A FRIDAY--

EIGHT PM ON A FRIDAY.