It's funny how I'm bumping into people in Hudson from my old S/M days. Maybe not too funny...
Last month, as I was shopping with one of my Hudson friends, he said,
"Would you have thought, twelve years ago, while we were cleaning cum off the floor at 4am, that we'd now be shopping at the PriceChopper in Hudson...."
...sigh.... cleaning up cum vs. shopping at the PriceChopper.....
Has my life gotten better or worse?
My friend and I used to work a fetish sex party, where at 4am, when it was over, and we were both VERY tired, we turned up the flourescent lights and played Carly Simon's "Haven't Got Time for the Pain".
I would yell "you don't have to go home, but you can't stay here..."
Another Hudson friend and I used to go to the Lure, the non-defunct S/M playground in the meat-packing disctrict of Manhattan. He told me of the "Sadist Shack" a small log cabin that they built inside the bar. You could go inside the Sadist Shack and get beaten up...
He told me this story while sitting at the bar at the Red Dot. (What if a Sadist Shack was put inside the Red Dot?)
So, how did we end up in Hudson?
Maybe it's because the town of Hudson is like an old whore.
She's seen better days. Her makeup is peeling and cracked. She has a few bruises from some bad lovers/tenants. She doesn't make as much money as she used to.
And we come here to help fix her up.
With a little spit on a handkerchief, we clean away the running mascara, heal the wounds, buy her a new outfit to wear.
When we fix up these houses, are we really just fixing ourselves?
...because even an old toothless whore deserves a fresh start...