An awful lot of stuff happened last week, but unfortunately I can’t tell you about most of it yet. There was a conference call I can’t tell you about yet, and I was consulted about an unpleasantness I can’t tell you about yet, and there were some developments in a project I can’t tell you about yet, and of course I can’t tell you about anything that happened with clients (though there were several notable developments, most of them good). Then there were some other things I could tell you about but would rather not, and a couple of others I might like to tell you about, but you wouldn’t understand or wouldn’t care. So even though I was so busy last week I barely had time to breathe, there’s very little to report in this column. I’m going to dinner tonight with a young sex worker who flatters me by listening to my war stories, and I’m getting yet another beauty treatment on Thursday. Last week I did receive a very early birthday present from Jeremy Dunn, the book you see me holding here (which was the most recent addition to my Amazon wishlist), and on Sunday my book became available on Walmart’s website, which I’m hoping generates a lot of sales! But I’m afraid that’s pretty much it for this time, except for announcing that I’m going to be in New York City from September 14th to 19th, so if you’d like to see me in that time you’ve got less than a month to let me know!
Posts Tagged ‘blogging’
Diary #320
Posted in Diary, tagged activism, blogging, New York, Presents on August 16, 2016| 1 Comment »
Diary #319
Posted in Diary, Philosophy, tagged anecdote, blogging on August 9, 2016| 3 Comments »
Last week was a busy one, but in a good way; very few of the things I was kept busy with were unpleasant. I always enjoy visiting my beauty doctor, and I saw several regular clients whose company I always enjoy (plus several meals with friends). And we made some progress on a major project for my ranch, the first one in a very long time. But of all the things that brought me joy last week, one of them may surprise or amuse you: I got my TriStar back. Well, not back exactly, because this isn’t the same one I was forced to sell 20 years ago, but it’s the same model. Some or most of you are probably scratching your heads or checking to make sure that you’re on the right blog; Maggie McNeill is delighted because she bought a used vacuum cleaner? Huh? Some of y’all are probably thinking something like, “No offense, Maggie, but you’re not exactly known for your housekeeping skills.” And you would be right. But this is different; this is one of those little victories that mean nothing to anyone but oneself. Jack bought me a TriStar back in ’92 or ’93; they’re really expensive, but I’m very hard on vacuum cleaners because it makes me crazy to have to go over and over the same damned spot and yet have it NOT GET CLEAN. I want a vacuum cleaner that would be at home in a cartoon, a vacuum that needs to be turned off if the drapes get caught in it because there’s no way to get them out otherwise. In this picture, that heavy hose is being held to my hand by the power of suction alone, and the circular mark is still visible on my hand as I type this over 30 minutes later. This is a sho-’nuff, no-messin’-around vacuum cleaner, y’all, and its air filtration is so good that the exhaust is cleaner than the air already in the room (suck that, Kirby). But after my marriage broke up and the bills started to get overwhelming, I had to be sensible and sell it to cover them. And as the years have gone by and I’ve been forced to clean filthy rugs with crappy Hoovers and Electroluxes and Dirt Devils, I’ve often missed my good old TriStar and vowed to get another one day. Then last week I was in a vacuum cleaner repair shop helping a friend to get a refurbished one, and I said to the guy, “You wouldn’t happen to have a TriStar for sale, would you?” He named a price higher than most of you probably paid for your new vacuums (but still less than a third of what my new TriStar cost over 20 years ago), and I said “Sold!” and peeled the bills off of the roll in my purse. Then I took it home and vacuumed all of my rugs, which were visibly brighter after the treatment. And though that’s great, and I’ll certainly vacuum much more often now, the really important thing for me is that after 20 years I managed to undo one minor example of the countless humiliations and defeats that life has saddled me with more than my share of. And that gives me hope that maybe, just maybe, I’ll be able to undo at least a few of the others.
Getting Around
Posted in Diary, Miscellaneous, tagged activism, advertising, blogging, drugs on August 5, 2016| 8 Comments »
Long-time readers know that I suffer from debilitating vertigo which practically amounts to a disability; I need to ride shotgun in a car if I’m not driving, thrill rides are out of the question and, until recently, air travel was a horrific nightmare reserved solely for situations in which A) I absolutely had to be somewhere, and B) there was no practical way I could get there by car. Even buses and trains give me trouble, and since I had tried literally every prescription and non-prescription motion sickness medication on the market (and the bands, and the patch, and acupressure, and I’m a very poor hypnotic subject) I got around almost entirely by driving for a very long time. But then last summer, when I had a sudden attack of vomiting at a friend’s house, she gave me an ondansetron tablet and I was amazed to discover that it suppressed the nausea almost immediately. And this started me thinking: despite the claim in the literature that the medication has little effect on vomiting caused by motion sickness, I suspected that was by itself; what if I used two drugs in conjunction, diazepam to make me relaxed (preferably sleepy) and the ondansetron to control my weak stomach? So I visited a doctor to get prescriptions for both and tried the combination on a trip to Los Angeles in May; it worked well enough on that smooth round-trip to make me brave enough to try again with a much longer and much more turbulent trip to New Orleans, which I passed with flying (no pun intended) colors.
What that means is that I’m air-mobile again, so if you want me to speak at some event or avail yourself of my professional services, that can be arranged. For car travel, my rule of thumb is that I’m willing to drive for as long as the appointment; in other words, if you’re two hours from Seattle I’m willing to come and see you as long as you book at least a four-hour appointment (to balance two hours each way). But if I have to fly, you’re going to need to spring for a plane ticket too because it ain’t exactly like I can just jump on a plane and come home as soon as we’re done. That means downtime that you aren’t paying for in a strange city, and a hotel, and…you get the picture. So I think a plane ticket plus an appointment as least as long as the total time I have to spend on a damned plane (because despite the fact that I can dope away my sickness now, I still really despise flying) is only fair. And if you really don’t want that long an appointment (or can’t get away from your wife for more than a few hours), a plane ticket and a hotel and a dinner date should do nicely, because I’ll be able to advertise it as a short tour and book other appointments while I’m there. For speaking gigs, I’ll want a ticket, hotel & meals at least. But if you can’t afford all that, fear not; I’ll be traveling about for one reason or another from time to time, and I’m going to announce every one of those trips both in my diary columns and on Twitter, so you’ll be able to book appointments with me in advance (I’m not overly fond of last-minute appointments even in Seattle, and I loathe them while traveling). Of course, you could also come to Seattle, but I think that goes without saying.
One more thing, and this is important: I know a lot of my male readers are clients, and a lot of y’all have asked how y’all can support my work; in fact, I recently exhorted y’all to start doing more to support sex worker rights before you’re the one getting caught in a sting or prosecuted for writing reviews. Well, here’s your chance. It’s human nature to want to get something for your money, so I understand that you may not want to send me a few thousand bucks just because I’m gorgeous and brilliant. However, now you can support sex worker rights out of your sex-buying budget by booking a session with me and flying me out to wherever you are. Think about it, boys; you’ve seen my pics and my skills are practically legendary. Now you, too, can fuck Maggie McNeill, and all you have to do is email me, set aside a little time and be generous. Come on; you know you want to. Splurge a little. And I’ll be really, really grateful.
Diary #318
Posted in Diary, tagged activism, blogging on August 2, 2016| 1 Comment »
On the day my last diary column appeared, I went to dinner with Lorelei Rivers and a lovely and generous gentleman; he took us to one of my favorite restaurants in Seattle, Daniel’s Broiler. The reason I like it so much is that, unlike many expensive restaurants (which, to riff on Boorstin’s observation about celebrities, are high-priced because their prices are high), Daniel’s strives to earn its reputation in all ways, including outstanding service. And I have a new favorite cocktail, the beautiful, sweet & dangerous violet martini. Anyhow, after he treated us to dinner we treated him to That Thing We Do, and a lovely time was had by all. Alas, the rest of the week was not so uniformly pleasant; though I had a great time Thursday night, meeting new people and getting to socialize with ones I’ve known before, Wednesday was intensely stressful and Friday only slightly less so. In fact, on Wednesday I decided to start my evening relaxation a bit early; here’s a selfie from the backyard. I’m rather hoping this week will be a bit more homogeneous; I had a snuggle date on Sunday (the lady may identify herself if she likes) and dinner and a long chat last night with the amazing Allena Gabosch, who wrote this last week based on a conversation we had in New Orleans. Today I’m going in for another beauty treatment, and that always makes me feel better as well, so here’s hoping the goodness continues all week!
Back Issue: July 2013
Posted in Miscellaneous, tagged blogging on July 29, 2016| 4 Comments »
The existence of a movie featuring lurid tall tales about sex work does no more to prove them than the existence of The Wizard of Oz proves the existence of flying monkeys and talking scarecrows. – That Was the Week That Was (#329)
This month marks the beginning of this very feature, which needless to say has appeared every month since. The other regular features of the month were the fictional interlude “For I Have Sinned“; the holiday columns “Dependence Day“, “Third Anniversary” and “The Magdalene“; the Cliterati reprints “Public Property“, “Ad Absurdum“, “Long Spoon” and “Give Them an Inch…“; the Q&A columns “Catching Up“, “Keep Doing What You’re Doing“, “Cutting Remarks” and “Never Let ‘Em See You Sweat“; and a two-part Guest Column by Onioja, a Nigerian sex worker in Amsterdam. In addition, there were two early diary 
columns, “Rubbing Elbows” and “Celebrity“, from before that was a weekly feature. After that, there were six others: “Still a Child“, an examination of attempts to raise the age at which people are considered adults; “Micromanagement“, a warning about DNA databases; “Passive Voice“, an analysis at the language used to defer responsibility; “More Harm Than Good“, a complaint about the awful language used by would-be allies; “Cleaning Toilets“, an analogy about work some people dislike; and “Being Heard“, a look at how sex workers are finally beginning to be listened to.
Cross-Examination
Posted in Biography, Miscellaneous, Perception, Philosophy, The Dark Side, Tyranny, tagged activism, anecdote, blogging, cops, escort services, fantasy, hysteria, law, lawyers, neofeminism, pimps, stripping on July 28, 2016| 3 Comments »
The problem with abusers is that they’re often extremely charming; after all, if they weren’t, who would stick around to be abused? – Maggie McNeill
Yesterday, Fault Lines on the Mimesis Law site (which you’ve often visited if you actually click on the links in my Links columns) published an interview with me as part of their “Cross” series. I don’t often do email interviews any more because they take so much longer than telephone ones, but Scott Greenfield has been an online friend of mine for years and I’ll do things for my friends I won’t do for others. I honestly think it was a really good interview, and he gave me leave to cut loose, be snarky and swear, so I thought I’d share it with y’all here, too. Not the whole thing, mind you; I want you to see it as presented. But here are a few excerpts from my replies; you’ll have to go there to see the questions and the rest:
…I was never exactly conventional, despite the efforts of parents and nuns; I was always a freethinker and never managed to absorb any negative attitudes about sex. I was fascinated by whores from the time I understood what the word meant, and as a young teen I counted several famous courtesans among my heroines. My very first D&D character at the age of 14 was a cleric who was a sacred prostitute, and I took money for sex for the first time just a little over two months after turning 18…
…while I probably made less money than the young girls while on the stage, I absolutely cleaned up in the VIP room. There’s not really a support network for new strippers; in fact, a lot of the girls are very competitive. But though I’ve never done pageants, I’m the type who would’ve often been named “Miss Congeniality” if I had; I make friends easily, and it didn’t take long before the more experienced ladies were showing me the ropes…
…Sex workers’ ads take advantage of the fact that paying for company isn’t illegal, only paying for sex. Now, you and I both know that the line between those two isn’t remotely a bright, clear one such as the law pretends it is; lots of clients don’t want what most cops would call “sex”, and lots of sex doesn’t involve the body parts prudes code as “sexual.” And by the letter of the law in most places, it isn’t “prostitution” unless there’s an explicit agreement to trade x sex act for y amount of money, which absolutely no whore in her right mind will ever do. So in a sting the cops either lie and say that such an agreement was reached, or else rape the sex worker and use that as “evidence of prostitution”…
…I am continually amazed that over a century after the end of the Victorian Era, supposedly educated adults, especially people who call themselves “feminists”, actually believe (and expect others to believe) that all women are passive, childlike creatures with such a naïve, romanticized view of sex that our fluffy, pink little brains couldn’t possibly conceive of doing it for any reason other than loooooooooooooove or animalistic pleasure. This is especially absurd given that these same “feminists” pretend that it’s better for women to be valued for our intelligence than for our beauty, while at the same time pretending that sexual motives deriving from the hindbrain (love & pleasure) are morally superior to those deriving from the frontal lobes (profit motive). It’d be quite a fascinating case study in cognitive dissonance if it weren’t for the fact that these Froot Loop notions are used to justify sending armed thugs out to deceive, rape, brutalize, rob & cage people…
…[The Nordic model] stated that a minor boy is morally superior to a woman of any age. This is called “feminism”…
…If nobody actually complains about something, the cops shouldn’t be driving around looking for trouble. Firemen don’t rove around looking for fires, and paramedics don’t rove around looking for injuries, yet we don’t see huge numbers of buildings burning down & accident victims dying because nobody got there in time. Let the cops stay in their fucking police stations until called out, and they’ll have a lot fewer opportunities to murder black men, execute dogs, rob bodegas and rape women…
…Prohibitionists only accuse me of dishonesty because I won’t support their ridiculous wanking fantasies of international cartels of magical ninja pimps with mind-control powers abducting screaming white girls from shopping malls and bus stops, transporting them around the country in dog crates, and serving them up to hundreds of salivating sex maniacs per week until their genitalia collapse and the diabolical monsters then dispose of them, presumably by flushing them down hotel toilets like unwanted goldfish…
An Apology
Posted in Perception, Philosophy, tagged blogging, censorship, language, racism on July 21, 2016|
Every writer, especially when first starting out, writes a few things that, on looking back, cause her to say something like “What the Hell was I thinking when I wrote that?” In fact, there are a LOT of things I wrote my first year that make me feel that way. However, I’m a big believer in transparency; before the Internet, one couldn’t just “un-publish” embarrassing articles, and I don’t think it’s ethical or even wise to try that now just because one can. You can’t un-ring a bell, and you can’t unsay hurtful things, and to attempt to do so by shoving mistakes – even ugly ones – down the memory hole is to attempt to rewrite the past, a favorite pastime of censors and tyrants through the ages. I’m a real, flawed human being, and though I believe racism and bigotry are deeply wrong, sometimes things don’t really come out like I wanted them to. In September of 2010, I published a post explaining why some sex workers refuse to see black men, and it soon became my most controversial; a lot of people called me a racist and worse because of it, but because I also received a lot of mail from black men thanking me for explaining it (even if they sometimes rightfully chastised me for the crappy, sloppy, careless, insensitive, amateurish, assholish, and unnecessarily hurtful way I expressed it), I’ve always felt it was best to leave it up. However, the essay has recently become a major bone of contention in the sex worker rights movement, and some people whose opinions and feelings I care deeply about have told me that they are offended or upset by it. As many of you know or have surmised, I consider loyalty to those I love to be among the highest of virtues, so when a loved one says that something I did – even inadvertently, and even six years ago – hurt her in some way, you can bank on the fact that I’m going to try to correct that in any way I can. And so, though I know the decision will annoy or upset some people as much as the original essay did, I have decided it’s time to take it down. I am not doing this in order to pretend it never existed; as I wrote above, I own my mistakes as much as I own my accomplishments. And even if I wanted it to vanish completely, the internet has made that impossible. The reason I am doing this is, quite simply, because some people I respect and some people I love and respect asked me to, and that is reason enough for me. I apologize to any readers who may have been offended by my language, or who may be offended in the future by copies of the essay which exist elsewhere; please believe that any hurt I caused was wholly unintentional.
Air Stream
Posted in Diary, tagged blogging, drugs, New Orleans, psychology on July 15, 2016| 5 Comments »
I usually write my columns at my desk. I’ve done some in hotels, and some fragments in coffee shops or other such places; I even wrote part of one at a party once, and a whole (albeit short) one while sitting in my car on Bainbridge Island waiting for a ferry. Also, I usually write my columns dead sober, though I have done a little editing and preparation of news columns while slightly drunk or waiting for an edible to kick in (they’re legal in Seattle, remember? And I’ve discovered I like them, so there.) One column in the past month I edited, illustrated and scheduled while quite stoned (no, I won’t say which, and I’ll bet you can’t guess because I did an excellent job if I do say so myself). But today I’m doing something new on both counts: I am writing this on an airplane in flight, on crappy, slow wifi that Alaska Air charged me TWENTY FUCKING DOLLARS FOR even though it’s horrible compared to the wifi I got for free on JetBlue in May. And I’m doing it while under the influence of 10 mg of Valium and 4 of Zofran, because that’s the way I roll when I have to fly. My first test of this new meds combo was when I flew to LA in May, but that was a smooth two-and-half-hour flight; this is a FOUR and a half hour flight across the Rockies, and let me tell you it is NOT SMOOTH. Normally, I’d be crying and puking right now, but I’m actually OK despite the frequent rumbling and shaking. The Valium seems to be controlling my nerves and the Zofran my stomach, so let’s hope that continues. My computer’s clock says it’s 13:31 (Sunday) right now as I type this, but it’s 15:31 in New Orleans and presumably 14:31 below us in Colorado (though by the time I figured out how to take this screenshot on my Chromebook we were at the border of Colorado, New Mexico and Texas and therefore crossing into Central Time. I would’ve used my usual screenshot program, but it’s been goofing up lately & I don’t know how to fix it.)
But anyway, when I was at the airport earlier talking to Allena Gabosch (who’s on the same flight as Vignette, Jae and I, though in different row) I told her that I’d finished my blogging through Thursday, and I had a brainstorm: what if I wrote one on the plane? Since I’m dopey as hell right now (though the first Valium’s probably wearing off since I took it at 10:00 PDT, I only took the second one just before I started to write almost an hour ago), I thought the results might be interesting. Speaking of results, I am still not panicking from all this bumping (the seat belt sign just went back on), nor am I sweating, flushed, queasy or any of the other symptoms that let me know I’m about to be very sick indeed. And yes, I would knock wood if there were any in this plane. But if things keep going like this on subsequent flights, I might actually be air-mobile again, which is pretty cool.
This is not to say I actually LIKE flying; it’s a wholly awful form of transport and I hate being on a freaking bus in the sky, even when the plane isn’t bouncing around like a ping-pong ball. And if that weren’t already bad enough, I despise having to deal with the blue-gloved morons. Today I had the misfortune to be behind an eedjit who believes the propaganda about security theater (I told him statistics proved him wrong but I wasn’t going to argue), then my luggage was “selected” for “extra screening” because it contained “a large amount of organic matter” (a dozen copies of Ladies of the Night). That explanation sounds entirely bogus to me; do people with lots of cotton or woolen clothing get “selected” as well?
Anyhow, my brain seems to be getting fuzzier (getting only three solid hours of sleep last night followed by two intermittent hours probably has something to do with it. That and the Valium) . And I somehow screwed up the map that was showing our remaining time to New Orleans, though obviously we must be over Texas because it’s almost 16:30 Central Time and we’re supposed to land in something like 75 minutes. And once we land we need to Lyft down to our hotel on Canal Street, where we’ll be meeting Kaytlin Bailey for dinner (and I hope Grace is there by then). So I guess I’ll finish up and try to figure out if I can upload this selfie I took a little while ago. When you read this I’ll be getting ready to return, so maybe I’ll make a comment when I’m on the flight back. And I hope not being sick. And noticing that I use a LOT of parentheses when I’m doped up.
Sixth Anniversary
Posted in Miscellaneous, tagged blogging on July 10, 2016| 13 Comments »
Though I’m rarely at a loss for words, none in my vocabulary are sufficient to express the gratitude I feel for all of y’all who choose to spend some of your valuable time with me every day, and without whose attention, praise and support none of this would have been possible. – Maggie McNeill
Six years! Who would ever have believed it? By the end of my first few months I was already concerned that I wouldn’t be able to keep doing this every day, and yet despite a much busier schedule than I had back then, I’m still managing it. Sure, the columns are shorter on average, and I’ve got a lot more low-effort features than I used to, but given that I’m escorting full-time again and doing a fair amount of travel, it could hardly work any other way. So let’s look at the numbers, as is my custom on this annual occasion: the blog now contains almost 2200 posts, 92 assorted pages, and almost 47,000 comments; I have over 1900 subscribers and over 9000 Twitter followers, and a total of over 4.8 million page views from all over the world. I’ve also seen my work published in Cato Unbound, Reason and the Washington Post, and have done so many interviews, speaking engagements, consultations and other such work that I’ve completely lost count. My name has been widely recognized in the demimonde and in sex-positive and libertarian circles for years now, and once in a while I even get recognized by someone in the community at large due to my TV appearances or the New York Times Magazine cover. Guys writing me for appointments often use words like “famous”, “legend” or even “icon”, and if someone who hasn’t heard of me seems nervous that I might be a cop or fraud, I just reply with, “Dude, Google me“. In fact, you can even Google me naked and get a lot of applicable results, which is not something most people can say. I know I’ve been promising to get another book out for several years now, and I’m still really planning to do that. But in the meantime, I’m just going to keep on keepin’ on, and using my increasing fame to keep spreading the word that sex work is work, that sex workers are human beings deserving of human rights, and that prohibitionists are nothing but bigots trying to hide a moralistic agenda under a cloak of lies and spurious concern.
Diary #314
Posted in Diary, tagged blogging, drugs, New Orleans, Washington (state) on July 5, 2016| 4 Comments »
Weekend before last, I went on another long professional date, this time to a lovely cabin near Mount Rainier; we did a little sightseeing and a little hot-tub-sitting and a little dining and a lot of relaxing, and all in all it was quite a pleasant way to spend the weekend. Oh, the exploitation! Oh, the humiliation! As I’m sure you can guess, I spent the entire time crying and praying for the cops to smash in the door and “rescue” me from the terrible monster who was spending a generous sum to take me on vacation. I’m not honestly sure why so many of these extended gigs seem to take place in the summer; it’s not like either they or I have school terms to worry about. Anyway, we’ll be heading to New Orleans for the Desiree Alliance conference on Sunday, so if you live in the Big Easy and want to see me, now’s the time to let me know! And if you live anywhere else but would like to take me away for a weekend, or fly me to your city for an overnight, this is to remind you that you can do that. I still don’t like flying, but at least now I know I can drug myself into managing it.
Visit my bookstore
This Month
Old Posts
Call me
Become a Blog Patron
If you want to donate but don't want a recurring charge, you can send any amount you like via PayPal to my email address (see below). Be sure to include a note so I can thank you!Contact Maggie
Boring but necessary legal stuff