I decided to go in Camelot East looking for a job today. Strangely, the dim room smelled not only of the impending, bustling almost-sex-for-hire near-redolence unique to just-opening titty bars, but also of rotten cotton candy and lemon bleach infused with Doritos or dirty feet, I couldn’t say which. As I performed my slow, sensuous

Collect that blood in a cup, And pour it on the fallow ground of useless sorrow.   The way to redeem the horrid (And the heart) Is to find the blessing in the scourge.   The blessing in the scourge. Say it again.   The unredeemed blood of sorrow Disrespects the Trickster   By letting

(For an explanation of what Camelot East is and why I am writing crazy stuff about it, see the Camelot East #1 entry on October 15.) Camelot East strutted into my office, a cigarette clutched in her mitt and a lie dangling from her lips, bouncing more than the cigarette even. “Sit down,” I said,

(For an explanation of what Camelot East is and why I am writing crazy stuff about it, see the Camelot East #1 entry on October 15.) Camelot East was goosed — and geesed! — Right where she’d expect it least. “Oh my!” She cried, Then blushed, Then died Of a lust she had thought long

Explanation: I pass Camelot East a lot on the way home. For those of you who don’t know, Camelot East is a dive of a strip club in back of a Sir Pizza off Richmond Road in Lexington. It rests in a cubby of asphalt back there near a storage facility, just secluded enough to