notes from a free-range chicken

I’m trying to assemble my thoughts and feelings into some kind neat package for reading. A fellow activist and sex worker had an even worse experience than I did. I was shocked to read her posts. Frankly, I was hoping I was an anomaly. You know, once an indie always an indie. Or that I’m just a little princess (ex-boyfriends might agree with that one).

Mariko’s horrifying account at least makes me feel I’m not crazy.

Still, I didn’t have problems with the people there. I was welcomed. The problems I ran into were more systematic problems. And I’m well aware I’m the sort of person for whom the walls close in fast. This doesn’t make me the ideal candidate for a lock-down brothel, but I thought I could handle this experience.

I do intend on trying another brothel. Kit Kat, Wild Horse/Mustang Ranch, and Sagebrush seem like candidates. I will be researching before I go. It will probably be the end of September or sometime in October. Probably not soon.

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the last day – day 10

burning out – days 8 and 9

the right to say no – days 6 and 7

the wheels come off — day 5