Thursday, July 26, 2007

whither sixty?

The venerable "Sixty's Place" -- a blog chronicling the stripclubbing adventures of an articulate forty-something Yankee with a marked taste for high-mileage blondes -- disappeared in May. From the ammount of clamoring in the comments section of this blog, others, like me, have mourned the passing of the greatest literary perv since Pepys.

As best I recall, in the year or so I followed Sixty's adventures -- and it was a blog whose entries dated to the dawn of blogging -- he got entangled with an older dancer with apparent designs of his freedom, shtupped his 20-year-old favorite dancer for whom he then developed a deep distaste, abandoned her, got divorced -- wait he was married? Throughout it all he maintained a knightly devotion to the one hot, blonde stripper who wouldn't go OTC with him. (Although he always did intimate that she gave it up pretty good in the Champagne Room.)

Then, like a bolt from the blue, Sixty fell in love with a live, human female of the kind who keeps her clothes on at work. He blogged a bit about the blissfullness of it all, went to see his fave a few more times in the dutiful spirit in which one visits an elderly aunt. Then all of a sudden I got an e-mail from him asking me to take down the link to the blog, because it didn't exist anymore. And that was that, til this morning, when I woke to find this in my inbox:

Grace ...

Was sorry to hear about your misadventures in Colorado, but glad you're home relatively safe. I wish you good health and prosperity. I wish you enough, at least, for you to appreciate where you came from. Keep an eye on that zipper, now.

In case you were wondering, I'm doing fine, ridiculously happy and in love, totally against all expectations. I'm no longer blogging about stripclubbing because, funny thing is, I'm not finding any interest in doing it any more. Ah well, it may return some day, that interest ... I'm too much of a horndog to pretend it isn't lurking just beneath the surface, ready to spring at the slightest opportunity. I would've left my blog up, but coincidentally it was discovered by my old fave Miss C(remember her?). She got pissed at me, and so much do I love and respect her that I immediately took it off line. Funny, isn't it, that a blog that so pathetically gushed about how completely enamored I was of her should offend her. I don't know, maybe it's not so hard to understand after all. Let me ask yhou: if you were in her clear heels, how would you feel?

Best always.

Mystery solved. Yes, strippers have computers and Internet access, too.

As to how I would feel if I discovered I were being blogged, I can only imagine. I imagine it would give me the creeps just on general principles. Like most people, I think, I prefer to think that people just don't think about me when I'm not around and that I am therefore in a position to control their every thought about me through the sheer charisma of my immediate presence and the clever things I say. I find direct, written evidence that somebody had been weighing, assessing, and speculating over my words and deeds and drawing their own conclusions about me would probably give me a gray turn.

I do live in constant anxiety that one of my blog subjects will discover us here. (No, not you, Tommi. I know you're here, silly. And not you either, Joe. That's all champagne under the bridge now, no?) But one of the innocents. That would be terrible. I worry most about Mr. B, both because I like him awfully and because, being a tech guy who spends a 85% of his time on computers anyway, and who discovered Stripperweb all by himself, he is the most likely to find us.

I've never written anything especially mean about B. -- in fact, I think I've spoken of my fondness for him many times -- and he's not my customer anymore either (or hasn't been for months) so it's not an issue of economic concern. It's just that one of the chief agencies of this blog is to speak frankly about a world where everything is art and artiface except the money and the tits. You were like this, too, Sixty. Most people just don't like to hear a frank opinion about themselves. They'll say they do, but they don't.

(On the subject of blogs and anonyminity, I also live in contant fear that I'm going to forget to log out of the Grace account before I go posting on the blogs and message boards where I maintain a professional prescence, and fifty million of my colleagues and collaborators are going to get an earful about grindage and benjamins and how I hate it when fat old golfers slobber on my neck, but will endure if the price is right. Sheesh. Now that's really a nightmare.)

Then again, maybe Miss C. is annoyed that you used her real name. Well, not her real name, but her real stage name, the name by which she is known in her professional life, which is as real for most purposes as any other name. (You'll not that I have ommitted her full name from the body of your e-mail.) Did you use her real name, and the real names of all those other dancers with whom you did sport over the years? I always wondered this. Maybe she didn't like having her professional name linked with the naughty things you said the two of you had done in the back corners all those times. I know that while I personally have made my peace with what I will and won't do at work, seeing a catalogue of my activities detailed on line somewhere would be disconcerting.

Still, if this is the problem, it's easily fixed. Change Miss C.'s name -- and the name of anybody else you care enough to protect -- and pop the blog back up. It is too great a loss to the world of stripper-blog literature to be lost. As I wrote in my reply e-mail to you, maybe you should tell Miss C. that her frank and persistant refusal to see you OTC, and your continued adoration, were an inspiration to me as I moved upward into the ranks of strippers who get taken back to the VIP and offered hundreds or thousands (OK, one thousand) of dollars for a romp in a hotel room. Would the prospect of being an inspiration to young strippers everwhere would reconcile Miss C. to a place in the spotlight?

Anyway, I hope you at least saved all your posts somewhere. Truly, they were awesome.

I still curse the circumstance that took my right past your hometown last year but wouldn't let me stop and siphon out your wallet.


Anonymous said...

Dear Grace,
Thank you for filling us in on the disappearance of Sixty's blog. for myself and I'm sure many others his postings were all eagerly awaited. I am glad to hear that he and his social life are going well.

I hope that you are also healing quickly men will soon be regaling us again with all the dressing room gossip.
Brian J.

Anonymous said...

be well sister.

and thanks for the update on sixty, one great writer to be sure.

he had a gift and I agree he should return and just change the names....

all good thoughts to you.

Anonymous said...

I seem to find that the older I get, the less I feel like I have anything to hide. I pretty much live my life the way I want to, as much as possible without being an asshole, and if anyone has a problem with it, it's their problem, not mine. (And if someone pegs one of my foibles correctly, hey, it's a trigger for growth and change if need be.) As a writer, too, I have to worry about how people will respond to my characterizations of them. Sometimes this causes me to hesitate about writing about something hilarious or profound because I'm afraid of hurting someone's feelings or revealing something personal. Changing names is all well and good, but any reasonably intelligent person can figure out when they're being written about.

Still, we do have just this one hour upon the stage, and the times I've been written about, good or bad, I just found it either flattering or funny. And a good writer doesn't just entertain but shakes things up a little. I'm starting to worry less and less about it and just write what I feel like. You think Henry Miller ever said, "Mmm, no, that might offend someone..." It's just the nature of the beast. If you don't want to get noticed by anybody, stay home.