Tess

I'm at a local cafe today called The Unurban Cafe in Santa Monica. It's really hot day. This place is so naturally dark and cavernous. Seems like it's 20 degrees cooler than my apartment.
I finished my last posting mentioning a dancer called Tess. I actually met her while I was still living at the 'beach'.




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(^This is part of The Unurban, btw. Never used this feature before, so I'm not sure how to place it).
Tess was tall, thin, fair, gorgeous and had a wild energy. Not sure how we connected so well. She must have sensed my misery and insecurities. She was sort of hiding from an abusive boyfriend. So, she would stay with me on the nights I worked late. She slept out on the beach and would hide when the Bobs got up to go to work. She was kind of manic and really liked to clean a lot. Since I hate doing that, she was great to have around.




Some time during our friendship, I got offered a gig to do a little striptease for a guy's birthday. This was for a mixed crowd. Just a little bikini show.
I invited Tess to go with me, so she could help me with the little details. I offered her a bit of pay to go with me. She was motivated.



When I arrived at my destination, the lady who hired me was a pretty, friendly blond around 30. She was very nice and helpful. After I did my dance for this lady's friend, she invited Tess and I to hang out and enjoy the party. I was having a nice time, the people were very friendly and full of questions about my profession. Perhaps 20 minutes into the party, the blond asked if she could speak to me privately. I went to talk to her. Apparently, Tess was going crazy in the kitchen. She was opening cupboards, re-arranging items, taking them out, putting them back in. Lather, rinse ,repeat. We left the party because Tess was acting so crazy.




When we got home, she said she was really tired. She ended up sleeping for nearly a day. The Bobs found out about her, so she wasn't allowed to crash there on a regular basis. She was very erratic. I asked her what was bothering her but she never gave me a straight answer.
A short time afterward, I worked an early shift at Richard's Lounge. When I arrived, Tess and Richard were having a huge argument. It was pretty heated. He actually had to throw her out of the bar. From this point on, she became very distant and moody.




A couple of weeks went by and I finally discovered the source of her mania. I walked in on it, actually. I was working with her. There was only one bathroom in the bar for women. It seemed she was in there for an hour. I really had to use the bathroom. I knocked and she wouldn't respond. Finally, I used the door handle, thinking it was probably locked. It wasn't. Tess was shooting up when the door opened. She looked up at me, said she would be done very soon, to please close the door and not tell anybody.
It's such a disarming experience, walking in on someone shooting an illegal substance into their veins. This would happen to me twice more in my lifetime. The third time, I participated. I didn't inject myself, but held on to the substance while two other people injected themselves. You don't really get used to the idea, unless you become one of the 'Train Spotting' set yourself. There is this look about them. It's like they almost become zombies. Zombies with heartbeats and pulses.It's the glazed look of their eyes, the pallor of their skin, a stillness in their demeanor.




I did my fair share of partying over the years, but the Tess Experience was enough to make me never inject myself with anything. I heard Tess went into rehab. There was another beautiful dancer that got clean and was in a relationship with Richard. He was thinking of asking her to marry him. I think her name was Raven. She looked like Snow White with Jessica Rabbit's body. That gorgeous. I don't know how it happened, but she got right back on the' white horse'. She died at 25.



I went to a zombie fashion show/ art exhibit the other night. It was an extreme example, but some of them just looked like addicts of my past.





(Me after the Zombie exhibit/fashion show last Saturday. No far from the addicts of my past)

Location:The Unurban in Santa Monica

Leaving Bob's Beach

(I'm at that awesome cafe again:-)



When I left Bob and his 'beach', luckily I had some money saved. My friend and resident small time cocaine dealer, Steve helped me move. I was going to look for a small cheap studio. Steve said I could save money living in this huge house of post punk posers and artists. I had enough money to rent the master bedroom with a private bathroom. I had met most of the residents before while performing as a real dancer in San Francisco. I had hooked up with Steve when I met them. He was really into me. He was only a friend.



The people I ended up moving in with were Dave, CL (short for Chicken Legs. His name was Michael), Dave's then girl friend Liz and Steve. I was to live there for the next two years. At 26, Steve was the oldest, at 25, I was next. The others were at least 21 but they referred to us as 'Mom & Dad'. This didn't help my already low self esteem. Liz was a really pretty red head and 21. She was a rich girl slumming with us. She and I were never really friends. (Until 4 years later, I ran into her crystal meth used up ass in a bar. She said I must really work hard to take care of myself because there was no way I could be older than her and look the way I did, lol.)



Within that five bedroom, two living room, 4 bathroom household, we only had one land line phone between us. For the first few months there wasn't even an answering machine. This would cause a lot of problems, confusion and missed calls. I bought a machine two months later.



There were two clubs in town at the time that catered to the new wave, post punk crowd. My roomies and I lived for it. I was always looked down upon, fashion wise because my hair was long, wild, frizzy and it was natural. I wasn't skinny like the emaciated or modelesque stereo type. I wanted so badly to fit in. Every Thursday night all the bathrooms in our house were busy for hours; prepping hair, goth make-up, using mirrors to admire ourselves. We lived for Thursday nights.




But that look didn't really fly at work. It was a boom town still in Silicon Valley in the mid 80's. This little club brought in lonley engineers, meth head bikers and other locals. It was very casual. It was just starting to become a glamorous thing to be a dancer. Richard's lounge had an interesting group of dancers working there. There were sisters. Tiny women Tammi & Cathy. They were both under 5 ft. and each had very long hair, a child and lived in a hotel with black guys who were the baby daddys. (That term hadn't been thrown around yet). There were a pair of black sisters; Honesty & Panther. Both tall and attractive. Honesty was a piece of work. So insecure and a moody meth head. There was a tall, attractive Mexican/Indian looking young dancer named Liz who would be there for a long time. She was very quiet and always did her job well. Then there was Tess. Tess was gorgeous. Tall, fair, slender, around 30. For some reason Tess and I connected. Perhaps because she would listen.



I will write more about Tess later .
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Location:King's Cafe

The Dance Studio

I have to say I do love this little cafe I'm sitting in right now. It's very tiny,King's Cafe. They have two hot baristas who work here. They also own the falafel place next door. You order your food at that place. You can either eat outside or they bring it to you in the cafe. Omar is the night time barista. Great hair! Middle Eastern mix of some sort, but hella nice. The day time guy from last year anyway was a tall,long haired Asian.



The economy has hit my industry bad. I'm going to have to start working more often. Even though, in this business, that doesn't guarantee better income. My home club will let me work more often, but I'll die early working there. (That's the smoky one) I really want to continue with my poling. My goal is to compete next year. They have a masters category which is for 'old bitches' like me. 39 & up. A 62 yr. old won first place this year. She does a couple of very, very impressive tricks that I haven't even learned yet. I figure I better do it next year because of lot of current senior winners (25-39) are pushing 40! That's all I need is to have to compete with Sasha Lee, Rebecca Hennes or Leigh Acosta. (Not that they're all turning forty next year).



Here's the thing: I can't work and take lessons on the same day. There is no way I could make it to my classes on time. Secondly, I just wouldn't have the energy to learn after dancing and hustling all day. I would also run the risk of injuries. I've had my fair share, but unstretched muscles, tight calves from platform heels are a recipe for disaster. Until recently, I was able to afford to just work twice a week, so I could study dance. This is not the case any more. If I quit the studio, I will never, ever again find pole classes for less than $10 a class. ( I pay $100 for 12). I need to keep this going. This place has some of the best instructors in the industry teaching and I can get there by taking side streets.


I've decided to take three classes a week, all in one day. I already know that I can work out three hours a day with no problems. I usually take two classes when I come to the studio. I just don't take them back to back. Unfortunately, I may have to. This means I have to take it really easy the day before so I won't hurt myself. I also need to stretch like crazy before and after. I've proved to myself that I don't have to go cray on the pole at work to gain attention. This was an important lesson for me. My body now thanks me for it.



If I become a title winner next year, that usually means free classes:-)



I'll have more time for friends and writing as well. I just need to find clubs that are a good fit for me, that will have me. I'm not like a Beverly Hills chick, but I do have to do a certain amount of maintenance to look attractive. Maintenance cost money. But I have to be at least kinda hot to make money. Oye! The vicious cycle!
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Location:Sepulveda Blvd,Culver City,United States