Ooops.

You can imagine it might be a little awkward if your boyfriend is searching the internet and stumbles upon naked pictures of you standing by a truck out in the desert. Unless, of course, you used to do that for a living and it’s in that context that the aforementioned boyfriend first became aware of your existence at all.

And there folks, you have yet another example of the usefulness of porn.

Yes, Johnathan, my new (and totally adorable) boyfriend just showed me a set of photos he found online that were taken on the set of Big Rig, my swansong in the adult film biz, and one of the two movies I made for Colt Studios. (And definitely the most fun I had on a shoot.) That was the movie where I had to drive a semi down a deserted road all of about 100’. Terrifying.

I hadn’t seen these pictures before. I must admit that on reflection they’re pretty good. The funny thing is, though, that I was so neurotic about the Hudson Wright shoot I did this past summer for Canned Ham that I’m in better shape now than when I was in the business.

Oh, irony! Well, J. gets to appreciate it, anyway.

Did I mention it’s sure fun having a boyfriend? Especially a new and totally adorable one. Living two hours apart is a challenge, of course, but not much to be done about that at present. It has caused me to spend more time in the city, though, which I’ve enjoyed. And I may have to be in town on a more regular basis if I get some kind of part-time job down there.

Did I mention I’m broke?! There’s really no work up here in the sticks to speak of so I may look for some bartending or waitering gig in the city to hold me over until the Canned Ham bookings start coming in more regularly. I always swore I’d never do that kind of work again. Never! Funny thing is now that I’m, uh, older, I haven’t any qualms at all about looking for a job like that. I think it’s because back when I used to sling hash or pull brewskies I was always an aspiring something. Well, I’m not aspiring anymore. I think it’s pretty clear by now that my Times obit will not read “Tom Judson, noted _______, is Dead.” I suppose they could insert “gadfly” in there, but I can’t imagine being pinned down to any one profession at this point. So, I no longer aspire. I just do. And it looks like in the short term I may “do” bartending. If I can get hired, that is. I’ve done it before (and here’s the dirty little secret about bartending—it’s so easy. Almost as easy as playing the saxophone) but now they expect you to have resumés and references and blah blah blah. Last time I was a bartender I came home every night with my clothes and hair stinking of smoke. That’s how long it’s been.

Why am I going on about this? Just to meet my blogging commitment, I guess (Amy…) Oh, no! Being broke, that’s it! So many friends of mine are in a similar situation these days. For years we’ve all been getting by (or better) but now the collapse of the economy has really trickled down. I have married friends—two different couples—who have discussed getting a divorce just to qualify for Medicaid. In my book that qualifies as grotesque. Especially when the idiots who are decimating health care reform which might make insurance affordable and keep my friends from contemplating splitting up are the very same ones who would deny me the right to marry another man… to protect marriage.

[So, I'm talking to my right-wing brother-in-law yesterday and the subject of the Death Panels comes up. "You just wait," he says. "They're just around the corner. It's already started: now they're saying 'No mammograms after 50.' If you're older than 50, you're not worth it, I guess." "Uh," I said, "I think what they said was no mammograms under 50." "Oh, so if you're under 50 you're not worth it. See what I mean?! Death Panels are next." Someone please tell me how you argue with that kind of "logic."]

Oy. Here I go again.

Meanwhile I’m sitting in my little cabin catching up on my reading and movie watching and cat petting and cooking (but trying not to bake too much.) I’m trying to get a writing project off the ground to occupy my time and even though I have no photo shoots lined up I’m going to the gym every day. Almost.

In short, life, for a late-middle-aged, destitute, newly-in-love gadfly is pretty good.

Anyway, here’s one of the less risqué pictures from that Big Rig shoot. I don’t know whether Jeff or Mick took this shot so I’ll mention them both.