To be honest, I don't know what I'm going to do. I don't have any money coming in. Deep in dept, living out here in these shacks....here at the library right now on wi-fi to write this....trying to figure things out.
It's amazing what you can get done with next to no money. My 5 short films are still exploding on the festival circuit worldwide; I'm coming into town every couple of days or so here at the library to update a few of our social networks online; trying to promote my Mother Opal's new STRIPPER book as much as I can on the internet; and trying to shoot footage for THE OLD STRIPPER whenever I can. When you're wanting to get things done, you can find ways to get things done. But sometimes, like now, financially, money plays too much of a part sometimes.
Until I can get some money coming in, our mass email service will have to be cancelled. We may have to cancel the dial up internet service out at the shacks. 20 bucks here and there make a difference in these times.
In fact, I don't know if I'm going to be able to stay around here. I'm seriously considering moving back to a big city. I've got to start making some money. And there's no jobs around here. If I want to work, I'm going to have to move to a big city. And just try to do and make these projects as I can.
I've got to figure out what to do....
Watch our new BOOK TRAILER of Opal's book THOUGHTS OF A STRIPPER at:
I've got to find some time to re-structure and organize everything I'm doing right now. My hands are full. I'm trying to do the jobs of about 5-10 people here in the boonies....these last 2 weeks, I've been working hard online promoting, advertising, networking and trying to sell Mother's new book STRIPPER: A Mother's Story. We're also starting a new podcast of Mother as THE OLD STRIPPER to try to build an audience on the podcast and audio networks online; trying to find time here and there to shoot a little footage for our upcoming feature documentary of Mother called THE OLD STRIPPER; still getting all my short films out on the festival circuit; beginning to make Filmmaker Video Blogs of me as a filmmaker out here in the boonies, and sharing them with a worldwide internet audience; and this week, working hard with Mother making her new upcoming book 100 SHORT STORIES OF AN OLD STRIPPER. This is hard...but it's personal, and I love it....
It's been a little while since I've written a blog. One thing I think I need to start writing about more is about what it's like being the son of a stripper. I try to share as much as I can about my Mother, and about my filmmaking; but don't share as much with others what it's been like being the son of a stripper all my life.
I am the son of a stripper. And I have loved it. I wouldn't trade it for anything. I owe the way I am and the life I've lived to growing up around the burlesque industry. If I hadn't grown up around nudity and pornography, I wouldn't be where I am today, I wouldn't have done all the things I've done, been all the places I've been, and seen all the things I've seen.
My best memories are those of when I was a kid, traveling with Mother on the road during her burlesque circuits in the summers of the 1970's. See, I grew up around nudity and pornography. My Mother started stripping when I was 5 years old. I went to a military school the first thru fifth grade. This was in the early 70's. Burlesque and stripping then was an art form. Not like the strip clubs today. You had burlesque theaters, where the porn films would play on the big screen. And between the films, the dancers would strip on stage. They would have 20 minute burlesque shows, like the Gypsy Rose Lee days. I remember being 6, 7 years old, backstage with the other dancers while Mother was dancing onstage. I could see her onstage from a distance backstage, while I was on the floor with the other dancers. They were always nude. We'd be on the floor playing board games, like checkers and monopoly. This is what I grew up around. Nudity and pornography was nothing.
That's how I've always felt. I think that's why I am the way I am. And why I'm the kind of filmmaker I am. I'm free, independent and open minded. I don't think much about anything. Nothing really offends me. I like to speak my mind, open people's eyes, shock them, make them talk and make them think. And as a filmmaker, I want to be a philosopher through film.
I owe the way I am to being the son of a stripper....
Jack's new Video Blog SON OF A STRIPPER - Jack the Filmmaker:
I've been trying to think of where to start with writing about my childhood memories of being the son of a stripper....where do I start? There's years of memories....from the 70's and 80's....so much to tell. I guess I'll start at the beginning.
My Mother started stripping on the burlesque circuit when I was 6 years old. Thinking back, that would have been in 1971 when she started dancing. She had just divorced, and was on her own raising me and my sister. I remember her agent booking her at different burlesque theaters around the country. She was just starting to dance on the burlesque circuit when she sent me to military school.
I went to military school the first 5 years of grade school. It was a boy's military school in Bloomington Springs, Tennessee. The school I went to took boys from the first to the 5th grade. I remember the first day she took me there. I did not want to go. I loved traveling on the road with Mother, and wanted to travel with her on the burlesque circuit. Now, looking back, I can see why she couldn't take me with her; home schooling was illegal back in the 1970's. And she wanted me in a safe environment.
I remember watching her drive off after taking me to the school. It was the end of summer, and I wouldn't get to see her again until Thanksgiving. I can't explain how it felt watching her drive away. Words can't explain it. That first day, I couldn't stop crying. And I cried myself to sleep that night on the bunk bed.
I ended up really loving being at military school. But I still wish I could have travelled with her on the road all those years. I did get to travel with her in the summers. But it never was enough....
My Mother, the Old Stripper, aka PHONE SEX GRANDMA:
