While last month's voyage to the West Coast was nothing short of a 19-day orgasm (I say 19 instead of 20 because the first day was remarkably meh), it has left me with an extremely dramatic dent in my wallet. Worth it, of course, but I also thought I was remarkably thrifty for such an experience, and wondering where everything went. I put a sizable chunk of it away for future shows, so I'm not dying, but I would rather not have to worry about tapping into it should an emergency arise.
Because of this, since my return to New York, not only have I been working my butt off at my Babeland, but I have been looking for other ways to pick up some extra cash as well. Writing, performing, modeling...whatever I can find. However, as I peruse Craigslist, Facebook, and the like, a tragic existential fear has gradually washed over me: what if I'm never good at anything that I can make a living off of? I'm a talented and intelligent individual, and I know this, but it really is starting to look like none of my strong skills are the slightest bit practical in terms of making a living.
In this recession, nobody wants to pay a writer. It's nearly impossible to make any substantial cash on stage unless you are on Broadway, and I've pretty much kicked that dream to the curb by this point. I can only perform as many burlesque shows as the producers (and my day job) will allow. I can't even whore myself out to stand around in my underwear for the stupid promo gigs I see on Craigslist because they only want muscly men.
Where do I go from here? How do I catch up?
This is not a plea for financial assistance, by the way (although I did recently reinstall my tip jar in the side column). Just an attempt to bring awareness to the life of a struggling artist. And a rant to remind the world that non-buff people also deserve to get paid to take their clothes off. And an announcement to let anybody of interest know that I am totally available for paid writing/performing/modeling/toy reviewing gigs. Anybody? Anybody?