I'm a gogo girl at Secret Faggot in Brooklyn this friday night. C'mon out.
People often ask about the difference between stripping and gogo dancing.
To be honest, technically it is the "same as stripping- but you start out wearing less" which someone said to me the other day.
But I get paid very little. And I don't wear heels. And I only do it for parties I personally want to attend. I am a dancefloor cheerleader. I am essentially getting paid to exercise.
Being on a stage with eyes on me is a turn-on. Attention pushes me to dance harder. I like the little winks I throw around and the few glimpes of lusty faces.
Speaking of lust, as I was riding my bike over to my friend's house today (for some idealistic banter) I realized that when I'm having consistent good sex, I make less art. Not because sex isn't very inspiring- but It just takes so much time and energy and leaves me content. I haven't written any poems in ages. Or maybe this blog is like mental masturbation and poems are like lovemaking to my mind.
It's a wonder I didn't crash and burn being so distraced. I couldn't help it after the sexual tentions of the past three days.
On a shallow note, here are some pictures from Baby Sinead. Ariel did makeup. All three of us gogo/former gogo girls had a blast- you missed out. I think the pictures look rad, I'm a modern day pinup!