A few things (mostly) unrelated to work:
* I have continued to date Spark, which has probably been wise, as well
delightful. We get on well, and if you're going to see someone
romantically when you're a hooker, words can't really express the
simplicity achieved by dating another one. He's actually had a greater
amount of experience in the field than I have, and being able to trade
war stories after a couple of days apart really helps to clear out any
residual emotional backlog that can sometimes accumulate as you jump
from bed to bed, in and out of position. As we're both traveling, the romance has taken on a dewy, rose-coloured summer-fling type quality -- which is about all the romance that I'm really built to handle at this point in my life. Vive l'amour temporaire!
* I am packing up and organizing myself to make it to this. I fear I may be traveling to gay Mecca.
* As I continue to not drink, I move closer and closer to becoming a morning person. This disturbs me.
* I have a new favourite band. Justin, they'd climb up onto your sexyback and ride you like bad, bad pony.
* Unbidden, life plans have begun to formulate out of the nether-regions of my psyche. Apparently certain ideas and prospects have been circulating amongst themselves back in the vaults, because I woke up a week or two ago and realized that I had a plan, and that the plan was good. Sex-work being what it is, that mysterious way station between so many things, it has never bidden a greater calling for me -- its fascination has primarily been to uncover the secret faces, and get a sense for the characters that people it -- but what my experience has revealed is a wonderful support mechanism that I can use to facilitate other ambitions. Money has never had enough of an allure to rule (re: motivate) me, and consequently my potential earning power has never looked terribly promising -- my family points out that I have made some astonishingly un-prudent choices -- but with my ability to work this angle now fully mapped out, apparently I've become empowered to make some decisions that I otherwise would have been unable to. Onwards and upwards, as they say.
I could explain what the plan is, but that would be telling.
* I keep coming back to the desire to get my nipples pierced, primarily because I think it'd be sexy as hell, and as my nipples have been more or less duking it out with my cock for primacy as an erogenous zone for as long as I can remember, getting them outfitted with little metal barbells might just settle the argument once and for all. I had almost given up on the idea until I had a client (a very dirty old man, bless him) really into tattoos and piercings, who kept mentioning how he wanted to do mine for free, and when he showed me his I was so turned on that I mounted him. The only catch is that I would need to give the poor things six weeks to heal, so if I'm going to do it, I'm also going to have to go on hiatus.
