When last we heard from "Chastity," the unemployed software technical writer (and editor) had tripped into the "weirdly mundane" world of porn—which, she'd discovered, pays a lot better than technical writing. Still, being a production assistant on lesbian porn shoots is not what Chastity really wants to do with her time, and now, in week two of her Slog correspondence, she says it's all freaking her out.

I'm freaked out. Most days I vacillate between crushing boredom—despite my efforts to stay busy—and genuine panic. I can give away my labor, but I can't convince anyone to pay me for it. I'm doing what I can to become more valuable: I write, I volunteer, I am enrolled in a web design course at a local community college. None of it seems to matter. Unless I have a resume that reflects exactly what an employer is looking for, they won't talk to me.

Worse, the value of my labor is dropping faster than the stock market each time the government fumbles with the stimulus package. Tech writing and editing contracts have slipped substantially in value over the last six months—from $30+ per hour to $18-25 per hour. Just last week, I had a casual interview with an acquaintance who wants me to write some press releases, and apply search engine optimization techniques to a series of domains he wants "to fix up and sell." He can pay $10 an hour, with no benefits. His argument? "I know it's not much, but it'll get you back in the game!" I'm not sure how a person with two or three years of experience is supposed to move up, career-wise. It used to be straightforward, and now there are dead-ends everywhere.

Making porn is a respite from this economic madness. It's weirdly fun, in that every trip to the grocery store garners perplexed looks from the cashiers—what would you think if I showed up and purchased Twister, unlubricated condoms, and electrical tape?—and efforts to create a fantasy on screen can result in very strange conversations offscreen. (I recently overheard a conversation about "stunt cocks" and the importance of pina colada mix in bukkake scenes.) However, our models aren't escaping this crisis any more than I am. At our most recent shoot, we had to forgo swinging between couples because no one could afford the cost of the STD testing, even after R, my boss, agreed to cover half the cost. We have also had to turn down multiple requests to perform.

In this climate, the crazier stunts are more likely to be profitable, driving a different version of labor-bartering. After all, producers make their money by balancing the kinks of their customers against the willingness of their models. A few weeks ago we did some onscreen shaving of one of our regular models, Maria, for which R had paid her twice her normal rate. To drive up profitability, however, he kept her shaved pubic hair in a mason jar to sell as a trophy through an erotic auction website. I was horrified, but Maria was nonplussed; she'd sold everything from her underwear to used condoms online. And this is the distressing thing about this business: while I can't sell my labor in any other market, in pornography, someone is always willing to pay. If I were willing to take my clothes off, I could be making enough to live on. This is fucked up. How is it that I am more valuable naked than dressed?

Cheers,
Chastity

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