here’s a song i wrote last week..

it’s about a millionaire who seeks sanctuary in a rent boy.

even though the millionaire’s married with kids ,he’s a bit bendy on the side,

and even though he’s mister moneybags,he’s unfulfilled…

and even though the rentboy’s there on the grounds of hanky panky,his real service pretty much comes down to him being warm insightful company…

i would never like to glamourise or romanticise the sex industry,though i can imagine that if navigated cleverly,it could be huge fun,even if it is surely imbued with a dark and tricky side also. while living in new york i made friends with a very bright button who paid for a higher education by doing a few wealthy punters during his academic week. he figured why be a barman working endless hours having no time left to study,when he could put his strikingly handsome body to work for a few hours,thereby freeing up valuable time for more important pursuits. he had no moral issue with that,and nor do i. i often wonder who the real prostitutes in this life are anyway. is doing something you don’t want to do,purely for money,not an act of prostitution in itself? and no matter what the job, is it not up to the individual, how well they dignify any task at hand…well dear reader…i ask you?

are we all not prostitutes at some point,on some level during our lives?

everyone is selling out in this life…the trick is to be in control of your own selling out process.

all my loving…

mary of the wilderness.