I took this photo on Hollywood Boulevard. It was just one of those serendipitous things. There I was, there she was, I stuck my hand through the grate, and there we were. Last year, a big chick lit literary agent at a big literary agency emailed me, asking me if she could buy a print of it so she could hang it on her wall. I emailed her the biggest JPG I had of it, told her to have it, no charge. Since I don't have any training in photography, don't really know what I'm doing, kind of wing it, I sometimes have a hard time seeing the value of it. Years ago, I went out with a performance artist who got all hot under the collar when people took photographs of his work. He thought he owned the thing he had made in the moment. I never got that. Like Nachtwey has proclaimed, "I have been a witness, and these pictures are my testimony." So, I testify. Today, The Stripper Hates You is my new favorite blog. Want to know what a semi-indie stripper peels to? The girl's got a hole in her thong, trying to keep all you boys satisfied...
