here’s a song i wrote last week..
it’s about a millionaire who seeks sanctuary in a rent boy.
even though the millionaire’s married with kids ,he’s a bit bendy on the side,
and even though he’s mister moneybags,he’s unfulfilled…
and even though the rentboy’s there on the grounds of hanky panky,his real service pretty much comes down to him being warm insightful company…
i would never like to glamourise or romanticise the sex industry,though i can imagine that if navigated cleverly,it could be huge fun,even if it is surely imbued with a dark and tricky side also.
while living in new york i made friends with a very bright button who paid for a higher education by doing a few wealthy punters during his academic week.
he figured why be a barman working endless hours having no time left to study,when he could put his strikingly handsome body to work for a few hours,thereby freeing up valuable time for more important pursuits.
he had no moral issue with that,and nor do i.
i often wonder who the real prostitutes in this life are anyway.
is doing something you don’t want to do,purely for money,not an act of prostitution in itself?
and no matter what the job, is it not up to the individual, how well they dignify any task at hand…well dear reader…i ask you?
are we all not prostitutes at some point,on some level during our lives?
everyone is selling out in this life…the trick is to be in control of your own selling out process.
in london i know a transexual who has ‘clients’…the interesting thing about her story is at her centre, she’s a fine songwriter and performer…..
she plays in an excellent retro rockabilly trio…invests her honest money on fine guitars..
one of her amusing tales is she visits a man in the central london area of belgravia…he’s married…lives in several countries,
but there was one christmas she was visiting this client..this client would have her insert dildos up his krunker….and once done and dusted,they’d talk for hours about all sorts of worldly and art related things….
then before disappearing into the dawns early light , she’d help the client wrap the christmas presents for his wife and children, who would be arriving the next day from france.
i go to pieces when i think about that.
anyway dear reader…i spent the guts of my weekend writing this song in a terrible funk…
i’d just turned 54 years of age and had one of those existential crisis things.
so i’m now throwing this song out there to put it behind me,with the intention of moving on, and writing something more *up*(maybe)
all my loving…
mary of the wilderness.