Outside of My Box

I have not written about my life outside of this blog for some time. I want to write to say of the things that give me the strength to write, and campaign against the sex trade.


I have used TV for a great deal of my life as the place I can disappear into.

For too much of my life, TV was used to drowned out my pain, my grief and hide my confusion.

But, I am proud that beyond that I always had the ability to enjoy and remember to enjoy watching TV.

I have always thrown myself into TV, but at the same time like many writers, I have watch with the detached eye of a critic.

I view it as fiction, as story-telling – whether it meant to be factual or not.

I have always prefer dramas and the drama of sports to documentaries and so-called news.

Though I make an exception for arts documentaries.

The facts in my life were too much for me, to want facts from my TV. I used drama to try to find something about how humans worked.

I prefer dramas that give no easy answers, made out humans were screwed up.

Though I have always had a longing for TV dramas, where bad men paid in blood for the misery they put in the world.

I could dream.

I like TV for it never reflected my life, it was a place to escape to.


I love eating alone and watching people behind reading a paper.

I eat in cafes, in restaurants, in sandwich shops and often coffee shops, and I switch my brain off.

In that empty space, my blog is forming, coming up from the depths of my stomach in that silenced part of my mind.

It is forming without words, forming behind emotions I thought were dead.

This happens as I walk to and from eating out, this happens as I wait in silence for the food to arrive.

As I am doing nothing, my blog is coming alive.

I go to eat out, for food is my reward to myself.

Reward for exiting prostitution, and not just exiting but having the power to speak out.

Reward for not starving myself when I lived in hell.

I will not go thin again, I will allow that life again.

Now, I am fat – but by christ, I come into a full life.


Music has always been my background noise, a friend when I had nothing else, another place to disappear into.

I was brought up with classical, be-bop, swing, soul, pop, trad jazz, blues, hymns. That went into my subconscious, I grow to be eclectic in my taste.

To me I even like or dislike music – I really don’t care what label it is under.

Hell, I spent a lifetime trying to break free of the label that were placed on me by my abusers.

I would say I am into Northern Soul, old and new country, blues, baroque, Russian ballet music, Motown, Stax, be-bop, swing, New Orleans jazz, Cajun, bluegrass, Brittain, Brecht/Weill, 80’s pop, punk, ska, Mozart, 30’s to 50’s American musicals, calypso, gospel music, British beat, tango – hell, that is just what at the top of my mind as I write this.

Music should always surprise me, it should an old familiar comfort blanket.

Music should force my spirit to be lifted, it should be a release for my grief.

Music should silent the ghosts in my body, it should be in the background as I expose them.

Music should allow me to dance, it should a time for exploring my mind.

Music gives the strength to write this blog.

I usually place music very loud as I write this – it helps me not read my own words, and then I get the power to make them public.

Music silences the voice telling no-one will believe you, no-one will give a damn – music says just write, damn you, write.

I praise music, for it in a partner in getting this blog out there.


This is just a short piece of what helps me write this blog.

I could never write it if I did not have pleasures in life. I can face the hell that I write of, for I now I will turn on the TV and find quickly I have left that life.

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