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Debauchery on the horizon

May 30, 2006

This Thursday is the 13th annual Black and Blue Ball, which takes place at the Avalon (47 West 20th Street at 6th ave), and I’ll be there, taking part in the fetish fashion show. I’m going to be wearing a ceramic corset, made by Oklahoma-based artist Nicole Moan, whose pieces I featured in my Style column in the spring issue of $pread.

I’ve never been in a fashion show before, and I won’t get to do the dress rehearsal since I’ll be working during it, which will make the whole experience extra-hilarious and awesome. I will try not to make the mistake of wearing un-walkable shoes, even though I really want to, because I like sexy shoes. Anyway, it will be fun for the whole family. Uh, if your whole family likes fetish fashion, that is.

And also! Next Tuesday make the trek to Williamsburg - unless you’re one of those people who lives there, in which case there is no trekking needed - to the Lucky Cat (245 Grand Street) for Burlesque for Choice, a fundraiser for Planned Parenthood, NARAL Pro-Choice America and the National Network of Abortion Funds. Its organized by the ever-lovely Molly Crabapple and Kate Black, and its the perfect excuse to drop some dollas on some honies (somebody kill me for using that phrase).

Posted by Dacia at 08:34 PM | Comments (3)

Burn out

May 29, 2006

I think I knew I was burned out this past week when people kept wishing me a happy three day holiday weekend, and I could only laugh.

For me, this so-called “three day weekend” meant more time to throw myself at my writing, more big long chunks of time that I could spend in front of my computer. And more time to realize that I really need a goddamned plan, one that stretches further than a month or three into the future, one that isn’t “if I only sleep four hours a night and drink lots of coke, this will work out” (which has been my plan this spring, and it has worked out, but I think I am losing my mind).

People keep telling me that I have my ducks in a row, that things will work out for me, and this is somewhat true, but shit isn’t going to magically get awesome, it needs me to be proactive. But how, with what intensity, and at what costs are the grand questions, the ones I probably can’t answer until I live it.

Today at a barbeque (socializing, twice this weekend actually) I was scheming with a former-sex worker friend about ways to make cash money using our brilliance and talents and, as she put it, “without selling body parts.” She came up with selling our kidneys, and after I reminded her that not only was it selling body parts, but involved surgery and probably the black market, she looked a little crestfallen and said, “But we wouldn’t have to show our boobs.” And this is burnout for ya - burnout with at least an emotional safety net, burnout while realizing what I can’t and don’t want to do. This at least is progress. But since closing the door of full-time nudity for cash almost a year ago, I’m still wondering - where is the open window? And how come the stack of bills in that window has to be so damned small?

My burnout has many features to it - its not just about showing boobs, its about writing about boobs, its about not having anyone to appreciate my boobs in private, its about the endlessness of projects and worthy causes and the over-giving bleeding-heartness of it all. I gotta get my capitalist hat on (I think its a top hat, like the little dude in Monopoly wears), and I have to practice saying no to things that sound like good ideas (and especially those that don’t).

So, dammit, I just need to get through this week, this essay, this round of editing (isn’t this always the way) and then. And then. Then I will socialize more, I will say no to cool things, I will take care of myself more than just by making fruit smoothies, I will limit my working hours, otherwise my brain will eat itself and it will not be good.

Posted by Dacia at 09:46 PM | Comments (7)

Style and substance

May 25, 2006

Coming back to New York after being away always pulls at my heartstrings something mean. Tonight, descending in on the city I smiled down at the Belmont track, Prospect Park, Madison Square Garden, Yankee Stadium, abstract as they are from the ground, they are perfect shapes from a vantage point in the sky.

One of the most exasperating things about coming home is arguing with the cab driver about the best route – this is the poetry of New York, as we make our way through Brooklyn I get pissy because he has determined that Flatbush Avenue is better, even though I insisted on the BQE. It’s a philosophical argument really, resting on chances of traffic and other New York oddities, and any way you cut it, it seems to take about the same amount of time to get anywhere, no matter what your destination and starting point are, no matter your route.

The book I ordered is on my kitchen table when I get home: Dick Hebdige’s Subculture: The Meaning of Style. My marked up college copy of the book gone, loaned out long ago, I need to reread it for reference and inspiration for the anthology chapter I am writing in five. four. three. two. one.

Subculture and style, and I’m thinking the lyrics to Youth Brigade’s “All Style, No Substance,” and also remembering my shock the first time I saw a picture of the Dead Kennedys, seminal punk band of my heart, looking decidedly un-punk (my imagination-punk: purple mohawks and spikes and sass), Jello Biafra’s black on black. Drag out the vinyl and the needle on my turntable is fucked up, years of neglect and not caring, my uncool shining through.

“Beauty is on the inside” ‘they’ say (the accusative word ugly, under the breath at the end of that clichéd phrase) – but what if you want to match your outside to your inside? What if that matching doesn’t look the way other people think is the best way to look?

And so I’m thinking about alt porn, and bigger than that “alt” sub/culture in general, sitting down to write about it for academic eyes, thinking it over for myself and for the whirl of projects and things I want to make, while making good, doing right by myself and others. Practically a plain skin myself, I pass easily in the straight world – until I open my mouth, letting out that stuff from the inside – beauty and spikes and sass lodged deep in my brain (subversive element, it says so on my business card).

So how important is it to represent that difference, the outward choices that people make about their bodies as a way to represent their inside, link up with a subculture, bend and shape – is it all style, no substance? The whole alt porn thing is based on the desire to see pretty people with tattoos and piercings – an alternative to orange-skinned balloon-titted mainstream porn. But often it seems that the alternative falls flat on its face and fails to push boundaries in other respects – full of pouting and posturing, the sex remains droll and dry, oral on each partner, three positions, pop on the girl’s face. Not a real alternative, just the same old thing in a different package. But its porn, and just maybe the package is everything, or at least the hook and line, if not the sinker.

Posted by Dacia at 11:18 PM | Comments (5)

5 Questions: Tony Comstock, part 1

May 22, 2006

A while ago I decided to start doing 5 question interviews, but I didn’t promise any regularity, and its a good thing, because I am both busy and scatter brained. Anyway, here’s one I did with the ever-awesome Tony Comstock - well, the first of the five questions. The man can go on (not at all in a bad way). For each question I’ve asked him, he’s asked me one in return.

Dacia: I must admit that I was a little surprised the first time I heard you say that you and your wife haven’t watched porn in years. What kind of effect do you think this abstinence (couldn’t help myself) has on your porn-making?

Tony: I think my and Peggy’s porn watching experiences aren’t that uncommon. When we first moved in together (about 10 years ago) there was a neighorhood video store with a pretty sizable adult section, with some pretty alluring box covers. But after a few unsuccessful attempts to spice up the evening, we quit looking. It wasn’t that we were grossed out by what we saw, we just weren’t very interested in or turned on by any of the tapes we rented. Not too long after that we started doing the first test-shoots for what eventually became Comstock Films.

A few years ago I thought it would be a good idea to get up to speed on what was going on in porn, so I got an X-rentDVD account and solicited suggestions on AdultDVDTalk.com. But if anything, the porn being produced had become less interesting to us. Out of about 20 rentals, the only one we enjoyed was “The Opening of Misty Beethoven,” a film produced 30 years earlier. Peggy has gotten together with her friends a few times for cheesecake and gay porn, but unless she’s not telling me the whole story, it’s really more of an eye-candy giggle with the girls than a get turned-on and jack-off experience.

More than what we don’t watch, what has had an effect on our porn making is what we do watch.

One of my favorite shows ever is America’s Funniest Home Videos, which aside from being great slapstick gives rich testament to the startling power (albeit in this case harnessed for low comedic effect) the camera has as a witness. I’ve also been seeing some amazing personal testimony-based documentaries on The Military Channel.

Peggy is a devotee of the Scifi Friday line-up on the SciFi Channel and can be counted on to get sucked into what I call ‘potato chip television’ –shows like The Biggest Loser, American Idol, and Project Runway. She also was a devoted Oz fan (hot man on man action), and watched The Shield until it turned into a repetitive soap opera. We both LOVE David Simon’s The Wire, and also love his books and other TV shows.

So as much as I make a mental note when a bit of porn (almost exclusively stills these days) catches my eye and turns my crank, I also think a lot about what makes other things work on me, what makes them suck me in, and then try to see if there isn’t a place for those observations in my films.

Now my first question for you: How, if at all, has your porn viewing changed in the years that you’ve been “out” as a sex-worker and activist?

Dacia: Certainly my porn viewing has changed over the years – actually it changes constantly, depending on what kind of mood I’m in, what body part I’m fixated on, what new discoveries or dirty thoughts I’ve been having. I’m pretty open minded about my porn and will watch just about anything. This is really the result of having been a porn reviewer and tape logger for the past few years, because I’ve had to watch all manner of stuff that I didn’t think I’d be into, and I’m consistently surprised by what I end up liking.

I didn’t really watch porn until I was in college, and I bought my boyfriend a copy of Tristan Taormino’s Ultimate Guide to Anal Sex for Women 2, ostensibly to watch together because I didn’t think he’d be psyched about me building my own porn collection. He was surprised that I picked the second and not the first video (which has a lot of workshop-y educational content in it), and I told him flat out “I don’t want to learn, I want to watch people fuck.”

I know I’ve become a lot more jaded since I first saw porn and still had that giddy “those people are really doing it” feeling - I do get burned out on watching too much porn, and my tastes have become somewhat more refined over the years, but the thrill is still alive. Although initially I was super picky about seeing porn with people who I thought were attractive, these days I care less about that and more about chemistry. If someone tells me about a scene where the chemistry is really hot, I don’t care what kind of body parts the people in the scene have, or they boobs are plastic and scary or the dudes look like ogres – if they chemistry is genuine and the people on screen really seem like they want to be there and they can’t get enough, then I’m all over it.

Posted by Dacia at 07:51 PM | Comments (4)

C is for community

May 20, 2006

Sometimes I do so much writing and working that basically stems from and is connected to the blogging I do that I forget that I haven’t actually been blogging. Like the last week and change. Also, I’ve been doing this weird thing, I think it’s called socializing, like almost every day. It’s pretty sweet. Anyway, though it may appear that I’ve been neglecting you, I haven’t been really, it’s just that I have really good stories that I can’t tell right now. I’m going to keep that all mysterious-sounding for now, but the point is that more will be revealed in another week. And it will be good.

Over the past bunch of months, I’ve found myself somewhat obsessed by building community among sex people. $pread is really what started it all and made my heart ache for people like me – both in the sense of wanting to find them and wanting them to find each other. At $pread we get letters from folks who are just so glad to find the magazine, read words they can relate to, know they aren’t alone, feel a part of something. This made me look around at other stuff I’m involved in and think – why isn’t more talking happening? More talking has been happening in a really powerful way amongst the NYC sex bloggers, and this is good to see. And then there’s the alt porn folks – a scene which I’m really only tenuously a part of, which I’m often grateful for, because it always seems that everyone is talking shit about each other (which I having a craving to hear, gossip-hound that I am, but don’t really want to get entangled in it). And then there’s this other group of people – sex educators and writers, many of whom are working tirelessly along to make differences, but not necessarily talking to one another. In a lunch with Jamye Waxman a few months ago, we decided that this is lame, and is something we want to fix. This week that came to fruition with a small gathering at her apartment, and hopefully it will spawn more hanging out, more collaborations, more success.

For me, this desire for community is partly for the basic reason that I want to have more friends, and I can’t tell you how many friendships I’ve allowed to ebb over the years because I never realized that friendships need maintenance and effort, they don’t just exist on a perpetual even keel. But its also because I’m becoming an old softy, and one of the things I’ve been thinking about a lot about the sex industry and about life in general is – what does it all matter if you don’t have people you connect with, people who you can call home, who get it and support your shit. So: community.

The thing about this weird little world of sex and writing and sex working and activism and porn and trying to make it all work and earn a living and not go crazy is that it’s isolating and there’s a weird underlying bit of competitiveness in the whole thing. There’s this idea that there’s only room for so many of us to “make it” – and I’m not certain whether that’s true or not, but it seems to me that I should be reaching out to these folks for support, understanding, and constructive criticism. Maybe this will bite me in the ass when I help other people to succeed and get left in their dust, maybe I’m being naïve – but I hope not. If I can use whatever power and fame (hahaha) to help people I respect get their due, then I’ll make it happen. This is one of those realizations I’ve had recently that makes me feel like I’m not as jaded as I thought. Even though I hate everything, there are people I believe in, projects I think are damned worthwhile, and I’ll what I can to help them along, maybe for a sense of belonging or camaraderie. Probably best not to overthink it. At any rate, this week, even as I spent (and continue to spend) countless hours alone in front of my computer, editing, writing, thinking shit through, I’ve also been feeling like I’m a part of something, like people have got my back, like I’ve got a cool community of people who believe in me, and I in them.

Posted by Dacia at 10:31 PM | Comments (3)

The economics of prostitution and marriage

May 10, 2006

You know, I was going to try and go to bed at a reasonable hour tonight, skip out on doing some writing, and head straight for my toy box and my porn “research,” but then I was clicking my way through my daily blogstops, and I saw this article that Violet Blue linked to on the economics of income from prostitution versus the propensity to marry. It’s an interesting attempt at the rationale behind the motives for prostitution and to puzzle out the answer to the question “why do prostitutes make so much damn money?” And I of course cannot resist the temptation to pick it apart. At this point I’ve only had energy to read the 3 page ABC News piece, and not the 35 page economics paper it is about – I’ll get to that when I’m not half dead with tiredness and shit-sick of reading academic papers.

First of all, the article (and the study it is about, I presume) makes the basic mistake that most media about sex work makes – the assumption that sex workers as a whole are of a particular class that is fairly uniform. Basically, this means that the population being written about isn’t identified in terms of where they exist in the spectrum of sex work possibilities and income level. In the ABC News piece, the workers being written about seem to be mid-level escorts or call girls, but this is never pointed out – the group of workers is just referred to as “prostitutes.” Though there is brief mention of the ugly side of non-consensual sex trafficking, there is no real discussion of the difference between what has been termed recreational and survival sex work. Survival sex work is sex work in which workers face multiple vulnerabilities including violence, entrenched poverty, and sexual and drug related harms. Survival sex workers are often street workers, who are much-maligned by the press and the law. Recreational sex workers are sex workers who evaluate their options for employment and then freely choose sex work – the workers written about in this piece are recreational sex workers. Though this becomes obvious in the discussion in the piece around marriage, these differences within the industry are never spelled out. In order to do and present research on sex workers that is well-considered, definition of terms is essential. Okay, semantics and methodology rant over. Onto the deconstruction (mmmm, deconstruction).

[Authors Edlund and Korn] document that in diverse cultures and over many centuries, prostitutes have indeed made much more, sometimes several multiples more, than comparably (un)skilled women would make in more prosaic occupations.

If this is true, is it any wonder why it is difficult for women to transition out of the sex industry and into a more prosaic (read: unskilled, minimum wage) job? For those not in the know, the class of sex workers that is being written about here is the sort of middle class escort whose rates are generally roughly equivalent to the hourly rate of a lawyer, which depending on location, is probably in the range of $150-300 an hour. However, despite the high hourly rate, it is worth pointing out that sex workers do spend a lot of time outside each hour-long appointment making appointments, advertising, responding to inquiries, doing preparation, traveling, et cetera. Non-billable time, but time spent working nonetheless. So, yes many escorts make a good chunk of money in an hour, but they are not making this by the hour for a 40 hour week. Also, sex workers often exaggerate the amount of money they are making – well, except to the IRS.

So, why do prostitutes make so much damn money? It’s a good question.

…Edlund and Korn argue that the primary reason for the income differential is not the risk sometimes associated with the practice of prostitution but rather that prostitutes greatly diminish their chances for marriage by virtue of their occupation. Men generally don’t want to marry (ex)prostitutes, and so women must be relatively well-compensated in order to forgo the opportunity to marry.

First of all, I say – ouch. Yes, it is likely true that it is a rare man open to the possibility of marrying an ex-prostitute. However, it is possible that not all prostitutes (or even all people, because - gasp - prostitutes are people) strive to marry. How about that? Also, I would bet that most prostitutes are not honest with potential mates about their sex work backgrounds – just as many people aren’t honest about their sexual histories with their partners. The thing is, prostitutes don’t wear big scarlet letters on them or anything, so unless an ex-prostitute admits to her background in the industry, the mere fact that she was a prostitute doesn’t decrease the likelihood that she will marry. Also, most women who enter the sex industry are fairly young when doing so and are profit-motivated. It’s pretty unlikely to assume that young women make this calculation of trading marriage (if they are indeed doing so) for high income in a stigmatized profession. I am making an assumption here, but I believe that most sex workers entering the profession are probably much more short-sighted than this.

Wives and prostitutes are competing “commodities” (in the reductionist view of economists, that is), but wives are distinctly superior in that they can produce children that are socially recognized as coming from the father.

No. Just no. Wives and prostitutes offer different things – I’m not getting all madonna whore complex on you here, either. Wives can produce legitimate children, but they can and do also have sex with their husbands. Prostitutes offer no strings attached sex – which is not to say that they are disposable, but that a man can escape his life for an hour long fantasy vacation with a prostitute. Also, there’s the whole thing where married men frequent prostitutes – how does this affirm the superiority of wives? The comparison here is just unfair because men seek out wives and prostitutes for different reasons, which means that they are not in direct competition with one another, especially because men often want to have both.

At the very end of the article, there are two concluding paragraphs titled “bottom line,” which includes a sentence I wholeheartedly agree with: “Most women enter prostitution for the money.” But then when you boil it down to that, isn’t that the reason any person enters any kind of work?

So those are some scattered and immediate thoughts on this. More perhaps when I’ve read the 35 page version.

Posted by Dacia at 01:18 AM | Comments (11)

Brains vs Body

May 07, 2006

I have plenty of excuses for why I’ve been living in my head a lot recently, most of them have to do with curating an art show and writing 50 pages of academic-ese in two weeks. Hell, those aren’t even “excuses” - those are damn good reasons. Link those requirements for intellectual focus and vigor up with the absence of partnered sex in my life, and there you have it, there’s me in full-on brain mode, neglect of body in full swing. I’ve been doing the bare minimum to take care of myself physically, and my eating habits have been terrible (mallomars are not a good breakfast food) – which I’ve been justifying by telling myself that under stress and sadness, I can eat whatever I want.

As I’ve started to come out of my intense focus and slight fog over the past week and change, I’ve gotten manicured and pedicured, had a hair cut and highlights, and had some sex – all of which have been good, grounding experiences that have brought me back to my body. But I’ve also laid in bed, gripping what I perceive to be extra flesh, flesh perhaps gained in weeks of sedentary indulgence in bad food, flesh perhaps gained only in my imagination. And I’ve felt fat and unattractive. I don’t want to wear clothes – nothing fits right. I don’t want to be naked – I feel gross.

I look in the mirror and I don’t see myself right. But I’ve been trying to cook good vegan-y things for myself, take walks, stand up straight, try and force me to love myself. It’s been one of those weeks – but it’s also been one of those weeks in which I felt like I had to stop babying myself and being bummed out and actually confront the shit. One of the ways I choose to do this is through modeling. Now, maybe that seems fucked up – I can’t quite get out of this funk through my own devices, I need someone else to tell me I’m pretty. That’s almost it, though it’s not really about compliments and attention (I think) - I need to see myself through someone else’s eyes in order to get it, so I’m not abusing myself unnecessarily.

So, its springtime and I hate myself (kidding), which clearly spells photo shoot. Early this week I met up with the ever lovely Erin Siegal, $pread’s art director and all-around fabulous lady, to shoot some promotional photos. The basic idea of the shoot was that I wanted some cute but casual images of me with a very NYC backdrop. The most important thing was that I look like ME in the photos – as I told Erin, I never want to be that glammed up photo girl who you meet in person and go “Oh,” in that disappointed she-looks-nothing-like-her-photos way. I could do glammy porn star photos with extra lip gloss, but I’m soooo not that girl.

There are lots of photos to choose from, and one will end up being a special-awesome Audacia Ray promotional postcard, but here’s one that definitely looks like me. Really, they all do, and it’s a refreshing thing. How is it that I know that these photos truly look like me, and I don’t hate the photos, but I look in the mirror and see nothing but imperfection? What’s the leap between photo and mirror? Goddamn it.

And so, onto this weekend and a shoot with Brian Rawson. We did a lot more ridiculous stuff than the photo I’m going to show you, but that’ll come later. Early in the shoot, after I remembered that I shouldn’t wear flip flops to a shoot with Brian because he’s going to make me climb fences to get into abandoned buildings, when we were holed up in a weird little shed, and he asked me to arch my back because I had a crease (really good tactful photographer language – much better than some other things I’ve had said to me in a shoot like “suck in your gut”). As I posed, I told him that I haven’t done a photo shoot in quite a while, probably not since early March, not since I’ve gained weight. He furrowed his brow at me and said that though it’d been a while since he’d seen me naked, he couldn’t see any weight gain – the most noticeable difference I’ve got going on is my hair length.

Looking at this picture last night I felt really strange. It is a really beautiful picture, partly because Brian is, as they say, “da bomb” but also because I was there. I was there, feeling heavy in the flesh, feeling not so hot, but imprinting the curvy goodness of my body on Brian’s eyes, on your eyes now. I keep looking at it, knowing it’s me, and feeling the weight of my flesh as I sit here and write this, and not having the two click together in a satisfactory way. It’s frustrating, this split between the intellectual knowing that I’m not fat, not unattractive, but on the emotional level not believing it. I want to make it go, make it good, make me get it, but today I’m just not. And it’s not that I always feel this way about myself either, just recently. Maybe it’ll be better tomorrow.

p.s. – to be clear, I’m not fishing for compliments, I’m just trying to puzzle my way through this discord.

Posted by Dacia at 10:03 AM | Comments (9)

A (good) day in the life

May 06, 2006

And Dacia - what, pray tell, are you doing on this fine Saturday?

Well, I’m wrestling a girl in green slime. I’m doing another shoot before that, which I’m not going to give away before I’ve got something to show for myself.

For now you’ll have to be satisfied with this:

Posted by Dacia at 10:22 AM | Comments (1)

Teen angst, pathos and humor

May 05, 2006

So what’s the first thing I do after finishing a grueling stretch of term paper writing? (I mean, after the sleep, profuse masturbation and hanging out with friends). I READ.

Yes, I am an incurable nerd. After finishing a semester, I crave the reading I’ve been missing out on. I feel guilty about the great readings and book parties I missed while I was immersed in the insanity of my writing, and then I dive in. I miss my subway stop. I stay up late. I read when I’m walking (not a good idea).

Two recent reads I’ve been really enamored with are Michelle Tea’s Rose of No Man’s Land and Cristy Road’s Indestructible. Both are about the struggles of teen age girl misfits - Tea’s is fictional while Road’s is not. On a basic level, both books are wryly comical with a heady dash of raw emotionality to them. They are about both vulnerability and angry defenses. Your typically angsty stuff - but not in a bad way. Its angst, written with the knowledge of hindsight, with jabs at the self righteousness of teenagers.

I know what reading these books is like for me now, obviously, since I’m reading them in the present. But I wonder about my 15 year old self, and what it would have been like for her to read them. My 15 year old self was reading the British romantics; I lost myself in the early nineteenth century world of Lord Byron, Keats and the Shelleys. Escapism in its nerdy finest. Though it is quite possible that I lived under a rock, I never came across books like these in my teen years, perhaps because the people who would later write them were teenagers like me, and they were making zines.

Certainly I would identify with Tea’s protagonist Trisha, and with Cristy as well (though being a middle class rural white kid, I definitely didn’t have the same kind of consciousness about class and race as Cristy). I’d identify with the sense of being naive and knowing too much, of being in a psychosexual battleground between self and other, with the sense of flippantly doing heavy things. Hell, I identify with that now, in the extended adolesence of my twenties.

I hope that these are books that teen girls will read, because they are beautiful and they connect the dots between the ugliness and humor of being a teenage girl who is ill fitted to the strict trappings of gender, sexuality and other invisible but highly enforced rules of girldom.

*Photo of Cristy looking adorable at the opening for Sex Worker Visions by Erin Siegal.

Posted by Dacia at 01:36 AM | Comments (2)

Ask Audacia Ray

May 04, 2006

I did just put this in the News sidebar, but thought it wouldn’t hurt to repeat it in the body of the blog:

Have a burning question you want to ask me? Wanna ask it in person and make me answer on NYC’s public access TV? Come on down to Sexy Spirits this coming Monday eve and do just that.

OR if you’re not in NYC, email me by Sunday evening and I will answer your question.

Real blogging soon. I’ve been busy with this whole living, working and socializing thing. That’s right kids, I’ve been putting pants on and leaving my house on a daily basis - there’s a whole world out there that isn’t about term papers and such. Who woulda thunk it?

Posted by Dacia at 12:06 AM | Comments (2)

Ask Audacia Ray

5.08.06 at 7.15 pm - Ask Audacia Ray
at Sexy Spirits, 301 West 55th Street, #4
Have a burning question you want to ask me? Wanna ask it in person and make me answer on NYC’s public access TV? Come on down to Sexy Spirits this coming Monday eve and do just that.$10

Posted by Dacia at 12:01 AM | Comments (0)