house of the rising sun

the strip club.
a den of ill repute.
it has quickly become a place I appreciate. because it's the definition of 1:1. I want to see ass. and touch ass. If i have bread, I see and touch ass. the rap is icing, not cake. I talk because I want to. its not a necessity, I don't feel obligated. the whole of the transaction can be completed in silence. so the rap is unburdened. close to pure.

it is either the pinnacle or nadir of capitalism.
a middle aged square as four white man with open toed birkenstocks can get danger close conversation from a young woman whose only concern is to earn.


as long as he's spending. supply and demand. devoid of emotional currency, it is the free market.