Thank You Brandon

Uncategorized | October 27th, 2012

I guess that’s really the first thing that comes to mind. Thanks for getting up and talking to me. Windows and Mirrors.

The show was good, it’s weird when you’re standing in a small room and for the most part no one seems to be interested in what it is your doing. They are all wrapped up in their conversations and mixed drinks, and I’m standing there with Sam in my hands, playing their background noise. Most people would be intimidated by something like this…but it kinda reminds me of my days working at the strip club.

Mohawks still weren’t cool, and here was this tall, weird girl amidst this sea of barbie dolls. The club is packed, it’s Friday night…my makeup looks different, my clothes look different, and no one cares just how many pole tricks I do. My feet are killing me after 12 hours of having size 10 feet squeezed into size 9, knee high 5″ heel boots…and I’m waiting…in that little dressing room just behind the stage. I’m not dancing to hip hop or whatever the top 40 of the day or yesterday may be. No, I’m probably going to dance to something by Skinny Puppy or KMFDM or something else weird, unfamiliar, and unknown to all these men looking for a princess they can spoil enough to touch there cock.

Song ends, Bubbles comes off stage with a hand full of clothes and wadded up dollar bills as she’s scrambling to get her clothes on and greet one of the 40 men who came to see her…we exchange a subtle smile, she says “good luck out there” and her tired eyes leave mine as one 36″ leg comes out from behind the curtain…in my head it’s so graceful…the way the beat takes off and I make these series of fluid motions across the stage and to the pole. I love this song, and suddenly as I’m climbing up the 9 feet of metal cylinder, I no longer care to think about how tired I am. I get to the top and look out across a sea of lonely souls…I see boredom, disinterest, and often fear. I’m a giant who won’t let you touch her pussy, and it frightens you…big, tall, scary girl who doesn’t smile like the rest and doesn’t smell of flowers or whatever the fuck they spray themselves with.

And you think to yourself…I could just stay here, on top of the pole for the next 4-5 minutes. I can climb down and walk around the stage and take my clothes off looking just as bored as the rest of them when they aren’t able to lock eyes with anyone…or I could try to amaze myself…I could try to stretch a little further, swing out a little wider, and maybe…just maybe I might surprise myself and not plummet off this thing and land on my head. So that’s what I did…and sometimes I landed on my head, and sometimes I landed on the pole, and sometimes a guy would buy a dance.

That’s my life. Sometimes the crowd loves me, and sometimes I’m too serious for a room full of drunks who are trying to escape life. Most people who are trying to escape do not want to be reminded of how painful it can be.

I remember a guy telling me once after I sat down and spoke with him for a bit that I was a very pretty and smart young lady…but when he comes to such establishments he did not care much for beauty with brains…he’d rather have a whore who will jerk him off or blow him for a cheap price, and since he did not want to waste any more of my time, he bid me good evening. I liked him, because he was honest and he’s always stuck out in my brain. Short, little extra gut, glasses, and a smile like a salesman ready for his next scam. His hair was brown and short.

So let’s get back to Brandon. Brandon was the guy, who near the end of the night when I packed up my things to leave, he came over and shook my hand, and asked me serious questions about my performance. He asked me about my tattoos, and he asked me where I go when the room is so uninterested in what I’m doing on stage. He asked me who I was singing for if no one was paying attention, and my eyes went directly to a chair in the back corner of the room where a man sat for the entirety of my performance, and I smiled. “For the man who was seated in that chair, and the girl who was seated in that one over there…and for you and your friends at the times when you were paying attention.” And he smiles, “so you notice these things?” to which I reply, “yes, but it doesn’t really matter anyway, if no one had paid any attention, I would’ve done the same because I am who I am and I do what I do regardless of who’s watching or who cares, because it’s never going to change who I am. No matter what, I’m still me and I still feel how I feel and do what I do.” and he smiled, “yes that makes sense, I can see that, it’s written all over you.”

Life is what you make of it. There are times in life when all eyes will be on you, and there will be times in life where you’re just as important as the wall you’re leaning against…in all things, just be yourself and everything will work out fine.

Wanna buy a dance?

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