I’m just a gigolo, and everywhere I go
\nPeople know the part I’m playing
\nPaid for every dance selling each romance
\nOoh, what they’re saying<\/p>\n
There would come a day when youth will pass away
\nWhat will they say about me
\nWhen the end comes I know
\nThey say "He was just a gigolo"
\nLife goes on without me<\/p>\n
Cuz I ain’t got nobody
\nNobody cares for me, nobody, nobody cares for me
\nI’m so sad and lonely
\nSad and lonely, sad and lonely
\nWon’t some sweet mama come and take a chance with me
\nCuz I ain’t so bad
\nSad and lonesome all the time
\nEven on the beat, on the, on the beat
\nI ain’t got nobody
\nNobody cares for me, nobody, nobody<\/p>\n
Really ain’t got nobody, sad and lonesome
\nBaby need love<\/p>\n
I, I, I, ain’t got nobody
\nNobody, nobody cares for me ,nobody, nobody
\nI’m so sad and lonely, sad and lonely
\nWon’t some sweet mama come and take a chance with me
\nCuz I ain’t so bad
\nReally want that soul, little loving soul all the time
\nEven on the beat, cherry, cherry on the beat
\nNeed a long tall darling, mama
\nFeeling sick
\nGot nobody, no, nobody, nobody
\nNobody, nobody, no one, no one<\/p>\n
Loopey loop, darling, darling
\nGetting serious, got to see the walls
\nOver there. nobody, got no one, nobody
\nNobody, nobody, nobody
\nNobody, nobody cares for me<\/p>\n
I’ve got to quadruple the traffic I’m getting to Lukeford.net (about 70,000 page views a week, 400% of the next highest site in the Jewish blogads network<\/a>) to earn a living from it. Otherwise I’m screwed. I’ve been working for myself for more than a decade. I don’t want to get a real job.<\/p>\n I always get depressed after a long illness.<\/p>\n My life is grim.<\/p>\n Life was easier when I wrote on porn.<\/p>\n I’m tired of fighting.<\/p>\n I drive myself out from the hovel into the cold dark Saturday night to take a bunch of stupid pictures to drive up my website traffic. I fight through the cars on Highland near Hollywood, and while my van idles, I feel the engine’s death rattle and know it must be replaced soon ($2000) and I pray to God it doesn’t die on me (and what about my friend who told me a month ago he’d sell me his beat-up Camry, is he really going to sell it, he keeps putting me off, I’m so screwed).<\/p>\n Once I get to the TV academy, I drive around and around to find free parking.<\/p>\n I’m tired of fighting.<\/p>\n When I get to the red carpet, I find out the arrivals began 90-minutes ago.<\/p>\n I have to stop drinking water more than an hour before I depart for red carpets because bathroom availabilities at these things is iffy.<\/p>\n My mouth is dry. My throat aches. I’m feverish. I’m sick. I’m weak. I’m scared and tired and cranky. I keep saying the f-word in my head. And mix it up with "F— it!" and "F— me!" and "I’m f—ed!"<\/p>\n I fight back up Lankershim to Highland and the traffic dies at the Hollywood Bowl. Twenty minutes later, I fight through a side street, pass 20 cars by driving on the wrong side of the road, and stick my van into a narrow parking place (free!).<\/p>\n I walk 15 minutes to Hollywood Blvd. My throat is dry.<\/p>\n I stand outside the club. No bathroom around. I fear I’ll lose control of my bowels. I fear that more and more now that I’ve passed 40 yo. It never happens but it would be humiliating if it did.<\/p>\n I get inside the Knitting Factory. I stand around for two hours while people drink. I take bad pictures. Then I fight the traffic home. I fight for parking. I get into bed and fight for sleep.<\/p>\n I lose.<\/p>\n I’m so tired of fighting. I’m so tired. I’m so f—ed!<\/p>\n <\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":" I’m just a gigolo, and everywhere I go People know the part I’m playing Paid for every dance selling each romance Ooh, what they’re saying There would come a day when youth will pass away What will they say about … Continue reading