Some things are more important than money. Things like knowing someone wants to be in a cabin in the woods with you, spending our days in no hurry, reading, making art, and building forts. Burning wood and making love, swimming naked under the stars and howling at the full moon.
I want to plant a field of sunflowers so we can hang out in them. I want to fly kites and climb trees, run through fields and streams, I want to rip my dress, and I want you to tell me it’s ok, because it’s just a dress and there are more important things to worry about.
Money has never been something that concerned me. I know it is a necessity for prosperity in a modern capitalistic society, but why? If everyone just went vegan, grew their own veggies, composted and repurposed everything, and just self sustained in general, we could all go on living in harmony forever without the evil tendrils of capitalism and greed sneaking into every orifice of our identity as humanity. Nothing is free though, is it?
The oldest profession is prostitution, trading your physical self, your lady tunnel and supreme mountains, the curves of your sweetness, for dirty green paper. Children are sold into sex trafficking rings across the world, its fucking horrific. Consent is what is needed, my body is mine alone.
Dirty green paper kills people, it is the root of all that is evil and wrong. I also use my body for money. I dance. I dance because I must, because there are so many things to say. I dance because I know people will always watch.
Amusement and titilation, the politics of body language are not universal. I live in a lace cage, its stretches but you can’t tear through, straps and garters, nets and spikes, don’t forget the blood red lips. Art is not free? You mean, I am worth something more?
It feels good to get paid for something you love. There is no such thing as too much boob. Counting crumpled dollar bills while naked like a drug dealer’s girl (they make women count money and bag drugs while naked so they don’t steal anything).
I give myself golden showers. Glitter for days. I always douse myself in the luminescent perfection. To be loved and hated for your glitter at the same time. Some people want me to rub my body all over them and steal my glitter. My disco tits inspire.
Others won’t touch me, those are the glitter is herpes people (and they can go fuck themselves). Burlesque is a beautiful world of sparkling bits (it is also getting fake shit on by a bag of chocolate frosting in your best friend’s crotch sometimes). Shock value is priceless, giving someone a moment they will never forget is what life is all about.
I barely break even, spending money on costumes and makeup as soon as I make it. My weekly show is just enough to buy a bag of weed and keep me in glitter.
Can I just live life topless? I want to start a BOOBER instead of Uber where I am just topless and charge 10 times as much. There will be a bouncer in the front seat.
Sometimes artists have a hard time doing free shows, feeling like their my time is precious and expensive. Artists are constantly expected to do work for free. Sometimes I am HAPPY to do things for free if I care about the project and want to donate.
And yes, it is true that I do not like money, I despise it and want to burn the capitalist system to the ground. I want to piss on its ashes. But that doesn’t mean I don’t need some money to live. Not to live life lavishly, but to survive and meet my basic needs and primitive wants. Go to Amy’s Place and get the vegan french toast AND the bbq seitan BIF sammich. I deserve it. I want to say yes to the dress and go to all of the concerts and plays. I want to take a day off to run through a field of blooming flowers barefoot.
I take my clothes off as currency. My revolutions and movements are enough to feed me. I am inspired to do this forever because I cannot trade my life for a cubicle. I will never ever work for the man or sit in an office ever again. I do not look good in a fucking pants suit.
More money more problems. Less money more problems. Seems like everything is just problematic. Happiness is easy if you stop worrying about bills and bullshit. Everyone should free their mind from insecurities and just get naked.
The roar of a crowd is invigorating, higher than any drug. People are more afraid of being naked then being burned alive. Let your confidence and beauty feed you. Take off your clothes every chance you get.
