Absolute Mayhem (22 page)

There's always some kind of drama in every club I go
to. Usually, it's a bunch of jealous strippers sitting in the
dressing room, talking shit about me, thinking that I'm
taking all their money (when, really, I'm helping to bring
in money by bringing in more customers, because the
whole point of a feature dancer is to draw more people
in because of her name). I always have my own dressing
room, but sometimes it's right next to where these girls
are, and it's always the same annoying drama in every
club – girls fighting with each other and bitching, 'You
hit on my boyfriend!' or 'I only made twenty dollars
tonight!' (which makes me think, well, if they weren't
in the back complaining so much, maybe they'd make
some more money). All of this drives me insane, so
I have to block it out by playing music really loud in my
dressing room. I love dancing to hard rock and metal.
Not everyone loves it but I feel sexy dancing to it, and
that's all that matters. I'll never submit to hip hop and
rap – I just can't do it. I have no idea how I would dance
to that. (That's all they play in some clubs and I go back
to my room with the throbbing bass pumping in my
head every night.)

My most recent drama on the road, however, was not
with the strippers but rather with one of the owners of
a certain club. This guy owned the apartment building
I was staying in too, and he brought the club manager
and two of the waitresses into my living room for a
little after-party – while I was trying to sleep in the bedroom.
I was absolutely shocked! I couldn't believe they
could have such disrespect. (First of all, they were not
supposed to have access to the feature dancer's accommodation.
And, secondly, how the fuck did they think it
would be okay to throw a party in
my
room, at 3.30 am?)
I bit my tongue and didn't say anything, because I still
had three more shows to finish the next night and
I had to get paid. So, on the next night, it was the
manager's birthday and out of revenge I dragged him
onstage. I sang a nice happy birthday to him, then had
two of his favourite girls come up and embarrass the
hell out of him – throwing water on him, whipping
him and walking him around like a dog in front of the
audience. And this guy was big and buff and a bit of a
hardass, so it was absolutely hilarious.

And that's how I ended my most recent show at the
time of writing this, after doing 20 shows in two weeks.
It was straight to the chiropractor for me when I got
back home to LA! I always return from feature dancing
black and blue, with bruises from the pole, and my neck
and back are always out of place. That might also be due
to flying all over the country, trying to sleep on planes –
near-impossible, given my permanent state of insomnia.
(Sleeping is hard enough even when I'm home, and
I refuse to take sleeping pills.)

When I'm not on the road dancing, I spend most
of my time
preparing
for the dance gigs (when I'm
not working on my website, that is). This includes
getting my hair and nails done, going tanning, going to
the chiropractor, getting acupuncture and facials and
massages, buying my movies to sell to my fans (which
I first obtain from the producers at a discount) and
buying props for dancing, as well as cleaning my
costumes and reorganising my suitcases. But I'm also
in and out of meetings and auditions, and I'll do interviews
on the road on different radio stations.

I have been doing everything I can to take more care
of my body in between my gigs and other commitments,
and this has been good for my mind too. I am
starting to feel more at peace. I am taking more time
to do the things that relax me, such as sitting on the
beach in Malibu, with the wind in my face and the sun
gleaming over the ocean. It feels so good. Looking out
at the Pacific Ocean always makes me feel connected
to my homeland, Australia. And I know that as long as
I keep working and looking after myself as I have been,
and take a day off at least once a week, then I will
be fine.

I think I'm beginning to figure out ways of dealing
with every situation that comes my way, and how to
maintain some sort of balance, instead of relying on the
usual 'running in every direction' approach to things –
the typical Pisces trait. I know I'll never be perfect, but
at least I see my own flaws and I make positive steps to
try to change. And I have changed, so much. And I'm
still changing.

I'm not miserable or negative all the time, though
when I read through old diaries or look at my song
lyrics it certainly looks that way. I'm actually a very
optimistic person, but when I'm happy I don't usually
write down my thoughts. I write more for therapy,
to let it out without boring other people with my
problems – like most people tend to do to me, because
I'm a good listener. Maybe I should start writing my
positive thoughts, so I can look back and not feel
so bad.

Back in September 2004, I wrote some lyrics in my
journal after a horrible dance gig in Pittsburgh. The club
owners were extremely rude and treated me so badly
that I retaliated by trashing my dressing room like a
deranged rock star. I shocked the hell out of my roadie,
but I was drunk and pissed off and pleased. Served those
idiots right!

So I wrote to calm myself down. I never finished the
song, but I still like some of the lyrics. The verses speak
volumes for where I was in my life back then:

Looking at the world though the corner of my eye,
Time just standing still and I can't explain why.
I know it's all my fault, I could push harder each day.
I'm getting closer now, I know I'll find a way . . .
How can I love myself when everybody loves to hate me?
They don't see all the pain that I can't seem to set free.
My foolish eyes, they never lie,
Except for the scared little girl inside.

And it ends like this, a final refrain:

Turn around, wake up to yourself,
Stop wishing that you were somebody else.

I think about that last bit a lot. True to my chosen
name, I've caused a little mayhem for the past eight or
nine years. And I know that now, all the characters I've
played have come back to only one: me. The only person
I'll ever want to be.

Well, in theory, anyway. In reality, I face the mirror
every day and wonder.

I guess that's one reason why, of the 400-something
movies I've made, the ones I like the most always have
to do with how I really see myself, and how I see porn
as part of my life.

Looking back over my porn career, it hasn't been
all bad. I have had a hell of a lot of good times in this
business, and met a lot of very cool people. The single
best thing that porn has done for me is boost my self-confidence. I had been hiding behind a wall, protected
by the corporate uniform – in the era that began with
me working at Westpac and ending at Salomon Smith
Barney – and the best way to deal with that was to
literally take off that uniform.

I decided to go all the way and take all my clothes
off , so that I had nothing left to hide. I had only my own
naked body to work with and I learned to express myself
that way. And I found I could do much more than I'd
anticipated or expected.

When you've spent most of your life being put down
by other people, that's not an easy transition at all. But
I did all I could, with a little help along the way.

Anyway, before I sign off and fade to black (insert
Kirk Hammett guitar riff here, please), here's something
that happened to me that puts everything in
perspective.

One evening in September 2008, I was at the Kevin
Josephson hair salon in Beverly Hills, getting all dolled
up – along with the supermodel/TV host Janice Dickinson
and a bunch of models from her agency. I did
this after I'd been asked if I wanted a free spray-tan and
hair-do session in exchange for modelling for that salon
and I thought it would be a lark. Anyway, they did the
most amazing treatment on my hair – afterwards, it felt
so soft and silky, and they touched-up my roots, too. The
whole salon was like a zoo, with an open bar and DJ and
models and people just coming in to hang out all night.

The spray-tan bit took forever and the stuff took
hours to dry. I had to model with no make-up on in
front of everyone and with some of Janice's models as
well, wearing only a skimpy gold thong bikini.

It was a very long night and I finally left the salon
at 12.30 am, after having arrived at 5.30 pm. I'd had
no dinner and I was starving, so I pulled over into a
McDonald's on the way home. The McDonald's security
guard told me he was hungry too, because they wouldn't
let him walk through the drive-in area, so I ended up
buying the guy some fries.

'There you go, mate. Mind your cholesterol,' I
thought, proud of my own display of compassion. This
is America, not Africa, but you can find people starving
anywhere. Just when you think you're feeling sorry
for yourself, you'll discover someone more miserable
than you.

And here's the kicker: the thing that nobody knew –
not the people at the hair salon and not the security
guard – was that I was a porn star who was a nervous
wreck inside. Because the very next day I would be
getting my latest test results back. And, as usual, I had
absolutely no idea if I'd caught anything from anyone
or not.

That's my reality, hidden from public view. I freak out
silently, once every month.

All of us porn stars do. And no camera can ever
capture that.

So, as a Wiccan, all I can ever do is thank the gods
and goddesses for every day I'm still alive.

When you're a porn star, you have to be mindful of
how you're a professional sex object, like a stripper
performing behind a glass panel for guys jerking off
on the other side. This is what you're there for, to provide
a form of entertainment in the form of sexual release.
If you can't deal with that, you should find yourself
another career.

That said, it's a complicated thing, trying to get to the
bottom of it. I'm sure some people out there think I must
have had sex with at least a thousand people by now, but
I don't think I've hit that kind of target at all, because I've
rotated a lot of the talent – I've worked with many of the
same guys over and over and some girls over and over,
so I couldn't say how many people I've had sex with. It's
definitely more than most people who aren't porn stars
can claim – though, as with many things in life, more
is not necessarily better.

Being treated as a sex symbol does have its perks, and
there are actually a lot of things that I can't complain
about. I've been inducted into the Hall of Fame at the
Erotic Museum in Las Vegas. I won the 'Golden Throat'
trophy at the Sexopolis Sunset Strip Awards held at the
Viper Room in Los Angeles in September 2008. And
I've been paid to host private house parties and events
in swanky nightclubs. In July 2008, I attended a party
jointly organised by two porn companies and went
with a girl who was new in the business, Sammi Ross.
She was like, 'Wow, everyone knows you!' There were
so many pornorazzi there and the camera fl ashes
were stunning to her. Everyone always makes me feel
like such a big celebrity, and I love that.

It is a bit crazy, though, when these people start
pulling me in every direction. When I was leaving,
someone dragged me over to meet some famous hip-hop
artists. These guys were like, 'Oh yeah, dawg, I seen
your movies!' They were all over me and it was hilarious
because I've never heard their music, even though
I've heard of them. One of them tried to get my phone
number but I gave him my email address instead.

Porn stardom is certainly the most unusual form of
celebrity that exists in our consumer culture, aside from,
perhaps, circus freaks and serial killers (and some people
are cynical enough to lump us into the same unfortunate
category), and I can assure anyone pondering the
state of my own mental health that I am perfectly fine.