stripping to my roots

I went to the fair with my little sister. At first it was very crowded and kind of scary and confusing. People were there to buy things, sell things, and stimulate their nervous systems on rides. I think people are so separate from themselves that they have to go on rides that give them that crazy adrenaline rush just to experience something real inside their own bodies. They should get lapdances instead.

Then my sis and I got curly fries with vinegar and rode the dragon boat and it was fun and it was just like old times. I remember getting so lost at the fair when I was a kid. I would wander around for hours and then sit on this grassy knoll and watch kids playing and teenagers’ hackey sacking and everybody being. Then someone I knew would come along and we would lay on the grass and talk and watch the clouds go by. The fair is a big deal here in Alaska.

Later we carried windows over to her neighbor’s house. He asked where we had grown up, and when we told him he pointed at me. “I knew she was from the village.”

“It’s been a really, really long time,” I told him, “I probably shouldn’t even claim it anymore, it’s been that long.”

“Well it still shows. You ain’t afraid of hard work and handling your shit, I could tell you’re from the village.”

(The Village. It’s a mythical sort of place that encompasses all villages, regardless of geographic location. I think you’d have to be here to understand.)

Even though there was a lot of Bad Shit, I am ridiculously in love with where I came from and who it made me.

Last night was my first night back at my favorite little tittie bar (needed: fair money). I didn’t want to wear heels because of my owie SI joint, so I wore flip flops. I started doing my make up and then thought, “eh, there’s three strippers here and five customers, what’s the point?” So I slapped on a little eye shadow and some lip gloss and an etched bone necklace that my mom made me, and I danced barefoot to country. I rocked my Alaska Grown tatt all night. I’ve only worked two or three nights since I got it, but it’s paid for itself a gazillion times over. I’m definitely going to keep getting it.

The more I think about it, the more I never want to wear heels again. I know people told me for ages that they were bad for my back, but… well, I guess there’s nothing like experience as a teacher.

I went barefoot on stage, and I loved it. There’s something really sexy about barefoot dancing, but it’s like learning to dance all over again. All those years of dancing in six inch heels and I’ve forgotten how to dance with my feet on the ground. I want to relearn this kind of barefoot wild alaska grown feral stripping. It’s what I came from.