ok let’s get serious if not now then when
where have I heard that before
some bad movie quote generator in the form of a boyfriend who has no original thoughts of his own
She leaves a smallish but not hick-ville town because of a dark secret we never reveal but hint at — the usual, some sexual favor has been exchanged for loss of innocence, she moves to the dragon’s lair right when her body emerges and her mind submerges–shots of dreams underwater, memories flash in polaroid sequence, using every possible camera to chronicle the years.
- She is both looking for something and
- Not really looking for anything
- More than a way to
- Make a living which
- Very quickly (although timetables are relative &
- Subjective, no doubt that can be argued)
- Becomes she just wants to get by
- Goals lowered like tent poles
- Letters not opened
- Shame grows, without being watered
- Like a shadow self, a false face, a weed that mimics
- Then wipes out the real
AND THAT, ULTIMATELY, IS WHERE WE NEED TO END UP — UNLESS WHAT?
- Other people are the key (makes us so passive)
- We can conquer something in ourselves and channel it or
- Re-create or
- But the key is showing the passage necessary
- the pain
- the recognition
- the fucking stages, the checklist: denial, anger, bargaining, puking, wanting to kill someone but not doing it because you don’t really want them to die you just want them to go away, to have never been met, to live in your alternate reality created as a little girl trying to forget what was being done to her body
- and what she was being told about her identity–it was nothing but a body to be experimented with
- and for that, unlike Lolita with milkshakes, candy money and lollipops, she gets to listen to records
- Music saves her as much as it lures her to the den
- Hope springs eternal.
- Faith gurgles internal.
- But this is about her attempt to ‘make it on her own’ and reverting back to the maxim that we are always nothing but prostitutes in this world of the working woman because sex sells, it always will and there’s no getting around it or trying to deny it or yelling and screaming about it–you want to conquer it, manage it, find a way to capitalize off of it, without losing your soul–so that whole dissociative disorder thing really pays off–
- maybe that’s the key to the photography
- that’s her way of defining that second self
- the one that wasn’t raped of all she never knew
- it’s just not there–that feeling of innocence, you just don’t know it so it’s hard to explain so she takes pictures
- that leads to predatory photographer, of course
- escape route dead end series of survival jobs (montage and barely much of a turning point — “always leads back to you, Franco’ and he’s not a bad guy he’s just halfway skeezy, he knows how the world works and that’s his problem–he stops there, he’s fine with exploiting (to a certain point, then he drops you off on Madame Baby Mama’s doorstep and if she’s unavailable you could get:
- Molly Maple
- Josie Juicy Fruit Rembrandt
- or Alexis Pearl
- who will, depending on the role play assigned on the board:
- HOLD your hand or more like pat/pet it, wishing you’d be over it already
- hand you a book and a log and a video, put you in plush solitary with a dildo and send up Franco Marcinelli at 8:02 pm sharp — you better have a smile on your face;
- lastly, take you to that midnight shrine and you have to sit there by yourself and then a comforter stops by for 60 seconds and basically hypnotizes you to go spread your legs, get down on your knees, escort the Arab or Yakuza who actually like you & request — but always with conditions and sometimes the xanax won’t hold;
- Bread & Butter are their code names
- You are the Gypsy Queen in a Fairy Tale in about 4 hours so you get an hour and a half to go thru the Persian baths, the sexual pleasure of your choice (for once, but you only get 32 minutes of that–and then the lights dim and a wardrobe rack comes out and a make-up artist knocks, champagne arrives, all to seduce you back to your
- Means of making it.
- For Kumimoto, it’s a back dress with a kimono-like coat, that’s Tuesday.
- Wednesday starting at 11 am, the Arab needs you at a society luncheon and you’re good at it because you read or used to read books and can converse–that gets you +32 cupcake points;
- your look +33, that gives you 35 to make up however you can–so you read the room, the situation
- The Mobster never hits, the Oilman has pushed you and been forceful and you must relent.
- The report is made, the fine is paid, you get 40% of $ 2,500 per aggressive touch but must be verified by camera in your color or heat sensor girdle or necklace that captures his voice.
- Miss Major Domo is the one who handles it, you go to her, like a nurse, get swabbed and checked out and then
- Dr. Eric does the full work-up. You end up with him 8 x out of 10 and you both know it’s sad but necessary.
- He can’t rescue but he tries to get his protege Michael to do so, and in the end, he does, because of the hippocratic oath and because he sees something one day
- THAT HAS TO BE DETERMINED
- the secret dark room
- Then there’s the Dark Prince you can’t resist–the star-maker photographer Diamond Desmond who makes you look better and thus feel better about yourself for about 36 hours til the narcissus drug fades and then
- You’re back to scheduler Ahmed, who has a blank look bordering on contempt but you ignore it the best you can
- And then cry later that night after you’ve had to perform the full package for the no-name studio chief and his entourage, not that group sex scares you, it can just sometimes feel like too much work.
- And in the end you must break free
- Somewhere near the top of act 3
- there’s trouble
- you get tossed out of the lower floor of the famous flophouse, the place of spirits, ghosts of former working girls, junkies with a tab or girls who just got left at the doorstep like an abandoned baby or a puppy no one wanted.
- Now what
- The ending is rage against the machine, combat boots, free, walking across that bridge over the 101 on Temple.
LOTS TO FILL IN>