Scandals, Strippers, Snakes, and Snatch

Originally Posted Thursday, January 30, 2014

Here's my girl.  Exclusive pink.  That's what the cover says.  I shot with her just after she lost her job as a school marm for modeling.  Nice girl, working on her M.A. in lit.  She showed up at the studio after a fun night, it seems.  I asked her about being fired and she said she didn't care, that she had planned to quit at the end of the year.  She didn't like teaching high school English, she said.  She wanted to be a model. 

I don't know if this qualifies her as a model or not.  But once again, your old boy C.S. was ahead of the curve.  I found the whole "spread" online but the cover says March, so I assume this isn't on the stands yet.  I could cash in, I think, on the photos I have.  They are not like anyone else's.  But I am not interested in money.  O.K.  I am interested in money, but not on someone else's back.  Maybe I should write to her and find out if she wants me to offer the Huffington Post an exclusive that scoops Hustler.  I might.  I wonder. 

I wasn't going to say anything about this, but I can't help myself.  I've tried.  I've sat on it for a long time now.  I look at the cover and wish I could paint.  I'd do a Harland Miller replica and use some images of my own.  But I can't.  What I can do, though, is begin to put a bar code on all my photos.  That might be the thing.  All art should have that. 

I read about a dating site that is for people looking for casual relationships.  Not hookups, but relationships that only take up a few nights a week.  Perfect!  Ideal!  I swear this is the one for me.  I truly don't want another 24/7 'round the clock couples only relationship.  It is death to everything else including desire.  Nope.  It is what I've been saying now for years.  Someone to call when you are happy or blue.  Someone to have dinners with.  Someone you are interested in and have real feelings for.  Someone who lives elsewhere and is happy about that.  Someone to take to functions and on vacations.  Someone for dirty, kinky sex.  Wait.  What?  For whatever. 

You won't find me on a dating site, but if I were to go on one, this would be it.  But I am sure such relationships are as doomed as any others.  As I write, for instance, I recall that cautionary tale, "Last Tango in Paris."  It's always something.