Emails, Deathbed and a TV Channel
What if you don’t feel like celebrating a life?
What do you feel when you see my name in your inbox?
Do you smile? Do you get curious? Do you feel something?
Even a tiny spark of "ah yes, her again…"
If the feeling is disgust, please… unsubscribe. 😅 No hard feelings.
Life’s too short to collect newsletters you resent (same goes for relationships, shoes, and bras).
I’ve been cleaning out my own inbox lately.
I had way too many subscriptions and it was overwhelming.
One guy sent an email every single day.
Every. Damn. Day.
I couldn’t. I just couldn’t.
But then there’s this other one who emails maybe twice a week.
His messages land like little check-ins from a friend.
Nothing life-changing, but grounding. Familiar.
That’s the feeling I hope you get here.
Not spam. Not obligation. Just… a soft ping from a real human.
Because social media? That place is no longer social.
It’s a marketplace in clown makeup. A Wild West of filters, AI fakery, and manufactured dopamine.
Half the “hot girls” are bots (or men, remember?).
And yes, even Substack has its own version of the digital brothel now, I’ve heard.
My personal rule of thumb lately is:
Nothing is true unless it comes from within.
It’s the only way to stay sane.
What a world! 🙈
Let’s talk about Death
Sorry for the shift, but I really have something to say about this.
It’s been on my mind lately.
Has it been on yours?
I was painting a window the other day (as one does when procrastinating mortality), listening to Alan Watts (my version of a guided meditation).
He was talking about death and how taboo it still is.
He said that when someone we love is old and sick (say, 75 and in the hospital) we don’t face it.
We put on a polite little show.
We say, “You’ll be alright,” when the truth is… this may be the end.
“This might be IT, mate”.
And why is that so hard to say?
What if instead, we brought a bottle of champagne 🍾 and toasted their life?
“You did it. You lived. Look at you. Thank you.”
I quite like that idea.
But life being life, just as I was thinking all this… I get a phone call.
My dad is in the hospital. He’s 76.
And suddenly, it’s not just philosophy.
It’s personal.
It always is.
I won’t go into the whole story here. Not because I don’t want to share, but because… this is still unfolding.
But here is where I tell you the truth. The raw version.
Because here, unlike Instagram, or OnlyFans, or whatever virtual circus we’re all tap-dancing in, here is where I am fully me.
And what I want to say is this:
What if you don’t feel like celebrating a life?
What if your dad’s (or your own) feels like it was half-lived?
Full of suppression. Duty. Silence.
What if the story was always “later, someday, not now”?
A friend wrote to me yesterday:
“The problem with death exists when you have not lived.”
Read that again.
The fear is not of dying.
The fear is of dying without having been fully alive.
So I ask you this:
Are you living?
Really living?
Not pretending. Not performing. Not scrolling your way through the hours.
But choosing. Saying the things. Feeling the truth.
Letting yourself be YOU, naked, messy, real.
Because if we wait until we’re 76 and in a hospital bed to celebrate… we may not get the chance.
And if no one ever told you:
You’re allowed to change.
You’re allowed to leave the script.
You’re allowed to unsubscribe from other people’s expectations.
You’re allowed to start living now.
And speaking of that…
Can I share something else personal with you?
I was a singer for many years.
I can sing.
As a teenager, I dreamed of being an artist. A real one.
I wanted to be Madonna. Or a Hollywood actress. Or both.
But back then, all I had was a cassette player, some vinyl records, and a TV.
That was it. No internet. No smartphone. No platform.
And now, at 51, I look around and think… wait a minute.
We do have platforms. We do have YouTube.
We literally have our own channels now.
So, I renamed mine: Miss Dawson TV.
At first, I was trapped by the grind.
Obsessed with monetizing it (who wouldn’t want that, right?).
And I made it! For a few months… until I was demonetized for “sexually gratifying content.”
I reapplied after a few months, got approved again… and rejected again for the same reason.
Well. Advertisers don’t like it when you work with adult content.
How ironic, right?
When you restrict content for over-18s, it means no kids can access it.
So why is that a problem?
Who exactly are these advertisers targeting then: adults or children?
There’s a lot of food for thought there.
Unethical as fuck, if you ask me.
Anyway, long story short:
I won’t try again. Because now I see it’s not that they don’t want to work with me…
It’s that I don’t want to work with them.
Because they are a bunch of shameless, money-grabbing cunts. ✌️
So now that I have my own channel,
I’ll be the artist I always wanted to be. 😅
I’ve already uploaded a few covers (here’s my singing playlist), and I plan to share more.
Why?
Because I want to.
Because I can.
You’ll find me there also performing, truth-telling, experimenting, being weird, being funny, being me.
Because the truth is… I’ve always loved the stage.
But not just to entertain.
To wake people up.
To make you laugh and feel and think.
That’s why I speak about philosophy, death, sex work, consciousness, and sexless marriages with the same raw honesty.
Because that’s my form of art.
Teaching through performance.
Laughing through truth.
Truth through beauty.
Beauty through rebellion.
I might not win a Grammy. Or an Oscar.
I might not go viral.
Maybe only five people watch my videos.
But who cares?
This is for me.
This is my champagne.
My celebration.
My “I lived.”
And it’s better late than never.
Mark is a Girl’s Best Friend 💎
So this is a Sex Doll Male torso sent by Tantaly for me to review (and try 🙈).
(use code MissD for a 12% discount for you and a little commission for me 😅)
Next week I’ll publish a new video on YouTube that’s a mix of everything I just said.
And you, my beautiful subscribers, are the only ones who can now see a preview:
⬇️
We are all Whores
This was my email last week but I made a video as well, in case you want to watch.
I hope that hasn’t been too long and boring for you.
Love,
Rose 🌹