Working Sex (20 page)

many times when i am just blankly staring at nothing it seems, i am in fact listening to such nice music, i am surfing
the net and looking at fabulous things, i am talking on the phone to all my friends. i have people over ALL THE TIME and you do not even know! because some people that come over don’t wish to be on cam. keep in mind you are only seeing 120 split seconds of my life per hour. and this is from one narrow camera angle, without sound. i have a whole house and much goes on. i try to convey as much as i can, but the medium is limited, as is language. all you can do is speculate about me.

 

i have lived as this person now for 31 years. this cam has been on only for a few months. i worked very very hard to get where i am now. i worked in many factories, as a housekeeper in hospitals, as a stripper, dancing 14 hours a day in high-heeled shoes. most of my life i have worked for minimum wage. i have done hard labor and pushed heavy things around in big dusty factories for $4 an hour, i have washed the floors of many a place, i have cleaned up the puke and urine and blood of sick people. 120 seconds per hour is merely a peek into a much bigger life.

i was interviewed by a music ‘zine called CAKE and they took my picture, too. there is a link to CAKE in the ANArchives. i’m excited to see how it will turn out. whenever i give someone an interview, i don’t know how they will choose to interpret what
was said. sometimes my sentences are taken completely out-ofcontext. i also took my picture for a german magazine called MAX. i am REALLY excited about that! woo! AND the coolest thing of all is that a very big german computer magazine called KONR@D voted me #1 most interesting site on the net!

my 1st ANAlog of the new year! my new year’s eve was sure better than xmas, i can tell u that! xmas couldn’t have sucked more. i went to my mom’s and she just freeeeeeeeeeked on me about the cam saying that my life is more destructive than if i were shooting heroin, and i’m a prostitute, and it’s like i’m dead to her now. so . . . ok. i cried and stayed in a room with pooka. it was just a terrible xmas. and that’s all i have to say about that.

 

there was a little article on me in
The New York Post

 

and i found out that Willian Gibson, author of “neuromancer” (he also coined the term “cyberspace”!) watches me from time to time!

well, i called my dad today. he is a lutheran minister from a small town. the local paper here that reaches across this state made it to my dad. and he is not pleased, to say the
least. in fact, i have never heard him so displeased with me since i quit high school.

 

last night i dreamt that i pushed the button that sent a bomb to china to blow it up. this bomb went straight through the earth leaving a hole, which caused 1/2 the earth to flood and the other 1/2 to dry up. i wandered the earth looking for shelter and trying to gather a few of my belongings to save. i came across my water-logged stuffed animals and started to cry because i thought they were dead. but i wrung the water out of them and got them back into shape and tried to sew them to my jacket so that i could carry them around with me that way, but i had no thread, only a needle.

 

i also got an email from my old sunday school teacher that contained a picture that i couldn’t decipher and it said“ i am disappointed but i’m not surprised” which i thought was really really mean. was he saying that he is not surprised that i am disappointing? i wonder what the picture was. and if he is so upset, why is he watching me?

so it’s hard for me to convey what goes on with me right now. i am sick of explaining myself and talking about myself and looking at myself.

i just feel poked and prodded. film crews, interviews, interrogations. all screaming at me “are you valid?” how can a big fake-titted bleach-blonde so-called faerie queen x-stripper cam grrl net “porn star” call herself an artist?

 

in trying to get together my thesis on my validity and value . . . i have ignored myself, and my household and am finding myself rather depressed.

pleez help keep anacam up and running by becoming a member of ana2!!! and thank u ana2 members for being such a great support! u r truly a pleasure 2 interact with !

 

i’m having spring fever in the worst way. being stuck in this tiny apartment in snow with cams on . . . is it the 3rd already? or is it the 2nd? i can’t even believe it’s march! next month is my birthday, on april 18 i’ll be 32!

 

btw, i don’t think i’m schizophrenic if i define myself.

 

to those who asked, my 9mm is a tokarov made in china. i guess it’s not a very good gun. i don’t know, it was my first one. the .38 special is a Wesson thing, i think. all i know is they shoot, and that’s good enough 4 me right now . . . but
i really have to learn more about them and how to clean them and stuff. like my song says, “and could u send me sum money money money, i’m out of ammunition . . . ”

maybe i’m letting too much information seep into my life. but, it’s two-way . . . i can’t stop reading those damn bbs because i’m so curious as to what rotten things they will say about me next. it’s a strange addiction!

 

there is an article on me in the online-edition of DER SPIEGEL. and i did an interview with a freelance writer for penthouse. She was doing a piece on webcams, not just me.

 

i just woke up from a dream that i was in a ufo and i brought my cordless phone with and it still worked way above the city of new york. i tried to get them to fly past my friend’s window. i had another dream that i was singing this fantastic song that was very “dead can dance”-ish and diamanda galas came up and congratulated me on my fine singing. then i used her bathroom on the plane.

 

i dream about famous people a lot. i think i must have dreamed about every famous person by now. most times i am comforting them for some reason.

i barely even have time to write this ANAlog! aaaa!!!! i’m getting so super busy now with my music! i’m going to be playing in las vegas in the middle of may. and other tentative cities are san francisco, los angeles, new york, and philadelphia . . . i’ll let you know any details as soon as i know them!

 

also, i’m going to be appearing on a variety show called VIBE on UPN (hosted by sinbad). can life get weirder? i’ll be singing on this show . . . and it might be happening in as soon as two weeks! i have SO much to do, it’s insane. i have to pull this all together and practice my ass off! so, that’s what i’ve been doing and why i haven’t been home much or if you see me home, i’m typing or on the phone . . .

 

i’m trying to figure out how to bring my cam with to all of these things . . . and eventually this WILL happen. so hang on to your hats for some bizarre adventures! my life is in transition . . . therefore, so is anacam . . .

 

ummm, what else . . . oh ya . . . i was in USA Today magazine . . . on thursday or friday . . . it had a big picture of me . . . but i still haven’t even had time to find a copy!

I got interviewed on E! for an hour long special they are doing on “women of the web.” so i had to get my make-up on and sit very still under these bright lights while trying to be as coherent as possible. my mouth was all dry and my lipstick was too glossy, but i think i made it through. i got to do one of those E! ID things . . . i had to say “if it’s happening in entertainment, it’s happening on E!” (this was an extremely funny thing for me to say, if you are decadent enough to get that little drug joke there.)

i went to new york last week for a party that yahoo/intel had. I did a heck of a lot of interviews for magazines and stuff. i met so many people that i didn’t get to have any “real” conversations. who interviewed me? i wish i could remember! i do remember that i did something for electronic musician, vh1, details, and . . . 10 other things.

 

i made some pretty cool pix when i was in new york . . . you can see some of them in “arcana.” that was when i had the most fun . . . when i’d return to my hotel and play with my cam. i missed my boyfriend a lot, even though i was gone only 2 days . . . so i took an earlier flight home. then the plane got stuck on the runway and we had to get towed
back to the airport. i turned my cam on in the plane and left a message of my plight! funnily enough, after all my interviews, a reporter from the new york times approached me as we transferred planes. she said that she had noticed my shirt which i had written across it in permanent marker “yes, they’re fake.” she was going to do a story on the increasing popularity of breast implants . . . so i sat by her on the way home and gave her my story.

 

we had a great conversation about new mexico and the strange flash floods, too. and how this one place is so quiet that u can hear the sound of a bird flapping its wings overhead, if one passes by above u! i so much want to experience that kind of silence. i’ve never been to a desert, and i want to visit them all. i want books about them, photographs of them, aerial photographs especially! i was totally taken by the look of the desert between las vegas and los angeles, so much that it brought tears to my eyes!

 

but back to the new york times . . . so that article ran a few days ago. i now have this quote to add to my resume: “Ms. Voog’s breasts are round, high and firm looking.”—the new york times

WHAT DOES “GRACE” MEAN TO YOU???

right now i’m in the middle of “all nude all week” week. i’m on day 3! i just did it spur of the moment as just a funny thing to do to celebrate “the harvest.” thank god it’s been an unusually warm week for october. i guess i just wanted to see if i could even go a whole week without wearing clothes . . . and it’s actually hard to do! now, on day three, i’m starting to feel a bit overexposed, i’m missing that nice cocoon feeling of clothing! my skin isn’t used to feeling everything all the time! i wonder if by day 7 i’ll start curling up like an armadillo?

on the anacam page, jason put up a link to a rating site called “camdepot” that so far today was bringing in 150 new people to my site. i don’t know how i feel about that . . . “voting” and “being ranked.” of course, everyone likes it if they’re the most popular, and i definitely like new people to find my site . . . i’ve decided to keep the link up for now at least to see if anything comes of it . . . or something. i went to the page and it seems pretty nice. some guy listed on there has a ferret cam and that’s cool.

 

 

F
irst there was Toni in his sparkling cocktail dress, serving drinks at Neo on Clark Street. The bar was dark, there were no windows, only a blue-lit clock. Toni had thin legs covered in track marks beneath his fishnet stockings. He brought me elegant-looking drinks on a silver tray. I hid in the corners or in the middle of the dance floor. I went to Neo alone and Toni sensed my loneliness and wanted to mother me to health but it didn’t happen. Toni died at three in the morning in a stranger’s apartment in Humboldt Park lying next to a broken needle, blood streaming from his nose, emerald skirt riding
in waves across his hips, tights ripped, a slipper dangling from his toe, eyes wide open.

Then there was Toni’s friend Tony. Tony worked at Berlin, had tribal tattoos covering half his body, long, thick black hair like a horse’s mane, and every year the free weekly paper voted him best bartender in the city.

I had friends but they were sleeping, and they weren’t real friends. Tony didn’t charge me for drinks either and I hovered near his bar, an oasis next to the entrance. I danced close to Tony. I never wanted to go home. I said, “What kind of boys do you like?” and he said, “Straight boys,” and I smiled.

Tony had a fashion show and I walked the runway at Berlin in striped shorts with thin straps over my shoulders. There were so many people there, all of them high on pills, dehydrated, and watching. I danced slowly past them. It was like being perfect, which is always an illusion. I was followed by a man in a straw hat, his gown covered in pale green bulbs. “Do you have any more swimsuits?” I asked Tony. “I want to go again.”

“You are so vain,” he said, patting my ass. I gave him a quick, sly kiss on the lips, before climbing back on the stage.

It was my stripper year. My heroin year. I danced Thursday nights at Berlin. Two sets, three songs, free whiskey, $75, occasional tips. They called me a go-go boy but I was really just decoration, cheap art. I scored heroin on the west side,
piloting my giant car through the burnt-out landscape, home of the ‘68 riots, the stained remnants of an assassination in Tennessee, the empty lots like broken teeth. Trash and parts everywhere, pipes protruding from the rubble, chassis on cinder blocks, men in lawn chairs on corners in front of vacant three flats. I got robbed. I got beat up. Things weren’t going well. Nothing made sense. I was having the best time of my life.

I didn’t make enough money on a podium at Berlin. I danced at the Lucky Horseshoe, a front for prostitutes on Halsted Street. We weren’t allowed to sit between sets. We had to mingle with clients at the bar. “They like it when you pay attention,” the owner told us. “Open seats are for customers.”

So we would stand and they would sit. I met a man who bred dogs. He stuck $5 in my thongs after my first dance. “It’s like selling people,” he said, laying a rough hand on my waist. “Only it’s dogs, so it’s legal.” Then he let out a monstrous laugh.

The going rate was $20 a day plus tips. The going rate was $80 for a blow job down at the Ram, a dirty theater with private booths six painted steps below street level a block away. There were sugar daddies who came to the Horseshoe but it was up to you to parse them from the fakers and dreamers. They said, “What do you want to do with your life? I can help you.” If you were a writer they were an
agent. If you were an actor they were a director, a producer. If you wanted to go to school they would give you a place to stay while you got your act together. They knew someone on the admissions board. The clients at the Horseshoe were whatever you might need. But I needed to be found attractive. I needed to be loved unconditionally. And I was very angry about something.