I Was Vogue - Heaven & Hell

Heaven & Hell
Y’know, that you don’t have to do this. You don’t have to get high, you don’t have to run from things because it doesn’t get you anywhere. Look at where it got me.

I was once, when I was a teenager, a fashion model. Oh, but not JUST any FASHION model. I came from Philly & moved to New York & landed like the marines. I was a HIGH FASHION model, which is a whole different thing, y’see. The clothes cost more, are uglier, & so are the hair styles, but they pay you BIG BIG money, take it to Brazil.

There’s a lot more money flowing around your head, and they don’t care if you’re a druggy. They like the druggy look. Me, Gia, created it, the fashion druggy look, the beautiful high girl in pain. That’s me. I was BIG. I was one of the biggest girls. And they’d publish my pictures even with the little red pin-pricks showing inside my elbow.
But I didn’t give a FUCK. From day one, I had a problem. Who are these fucking people lifting my face to put makeup on all over it? I’d wish they’d stop touching me. “Oh, you’re so beautiful,” they’d scream & yell, even when I staggered in all fucked up


. . . . a long time ago, when I was still alive, when Chris was still alive, when Way was still alive, but it’s all getting confused now that I look down on it. I left New York to clean up from shooting up so much, went to home to Mommy & Philly, but then I met Sister Ray & when things got really bad in Atlantic City, we used to fuck in front of guys to get drug money. That’s what we told people anyhow, ha ha ha ha ha.

Wait, was that before or after I left modeling the last time? The first time? I can never remember. It don’t mean much to me. But it meant a lot to Mommy, my Earth Mommy. She’d have all my pictures from the magazines hung up on the wall in the living room, my own face, glaring down at me. Blah!

Sister Ray is up here, all, y’know, but here, (in heaven)they have the power to keep her away from me. Down there, Sister Ray was all I had after Willie died. Now I see Willie up here too. Bruce her husband idn’t around so we can talk like old times. Willie still is as tall up here too but up here she’s my heavenly mommy. Then there’s my really Mommy back on earth. And back on earth they worship me on computer with my old pictures there & everything. But I’m still the junkie model princess I always was, I was Vogue, y’know, don’t you guys ever forget that. I still want my works, even though I have a cloud to sit on in heaven, and some really great hot high heel shoes, black pointy heels, glittery, Chris still photographs me nude climbing a fence & way still does my make up. But I just wanna get stoned again, man, I’m sick of this heaven stuff. It’s boring. Oh, yeah they also gave me my guitars & red Fiat Spider car. It’s parked on that cloud over there.

Monique called up once to Hoagie City where I was living in the back with Sister Ray on & off
She called to just see what was going on, I know I shoulda be in Germany wearin some ugly dresses & wigs & horrible, dreaded filthy pore clogging makeup, & smiling & moving for the camera like a geek, but I just couldn't. I couldn't do it anymore, ok?

"Vee love Gia," said Monique, in her French accent "Ve'll give her anothed chance, ve just want her to go to her shoots, sil vous plait . . . ."

My brother answered the phone while in the middle of makin' a buncha hoagie sandwiches for the customers ( it's like a cheese steak sandwich in y'all didn't know.) "What," he said, "did she miss her plane AGAIN? Look, lady, I don't know what to tell ya, she was here a minute ago, I can't keep track of her, I don't know how you guys are gonna." And he hung up on her, to go back to his onion & cheese & steak chopping. Pounding with a malet hammer those thin little steaks. I know, I was making hoagies too before I was a very famous bi-sexual dark high fashion model. Like two days before, y'know?

So I was suppose to be in Germany. And then, it happened, I got BLACKBALLED FROM THE INDUSTRY & they made a behind the scenes pack that I would never work again. So I booked out permantently. I left New York, went back home & started a family rip off game to get my drugs, stealing from just about ANYONE to get my drugs
& then, sometime later I went to rehab. I tried methadone, but it only helps a little, and I'm back high in 2 minutes.

What the hell? The guys in Germany were calling me fat? I know I fell asleep in the chair a lot while my make up was being put on, I know they had to left my face up, or wait for me to wake up so my mascara wouldn't run, and I know I brought in lots of candy bars to eat. Ok. But big & fat? They said, we wished we were as fat as you! What the hell?