Intersexional

I’ve been thinking about my relationship to school and the way I sometimes identify myself as sapiosexual. I know some people think sapiosexual is a pretentious term. I’m going to shrug that off because making any value judgements about my sexuality is so assumptive that I may assume the same power to dismiss assumption about it. I’ve had a love affair with learning since I was very little. The…

I have learned to cut out everything except the essential goal: sustained physical contact longer than 10 minutes. I have learned to do without much actual connection. I accept that I live in a world where that remains rare and dangerous as a loaded gun. I must make due with the triggering of oxytocin. More generally: cuddles. Cuddles are kind of the ultimate drug. I’ve usually gone out of the…

The start of a butt plug revolution…

Three weeks ago I sent a model of a prototype to be printed… Then I met up with Funkit Toys creator, Kenton, and we made a negative mold and poured some silicone! We concluded that we hadn’t used enough non-stick spray. My first baby was a failure. Too much of the plug was fused to the mold. But I loved holding it in my hand. We were soooooo close!   So we tried again after fixing the mold a bit…

“Triiick”- A Nice Feminasty Magazine Dreamproject

Brief notes about a fantasy project I’d cut my arm off to have funded and supported.  3 featured models and scenes per magazine + 1 SMUTS Feature (May involve multiple models, SMUTS criteria to be defined/elaborated on later) Models paid $500-600 per shoot. Sent spread for approval and input before final editor review and printing. Concepts: -hot busking musician femmes/girls/boi’s/nonbinary/lgbt…

A genius once thought up a script And he felt it was clever a lot Machines were the ticket to money A metaphor for life’s general plot. – Since, Machines make machines that make money He reasoned all anyone must do Is compose one of those complex pieces To infinitely earn wealth for you. – Never mind the mentally disabled, Nor the…

A disheveled thing that lives by Loving Anyway.

I love people. Some men I’ve loved have told me, long after the relationship has ended, or long after the period of time that they insisted was not a “relationship”, that I missed some significant part of them.  Pff. They’re telling’ me? I surely told them first. They only have themselves to blame for not communicating fully. I have been told that I neglected to see and make comfortable a part of…

Why Self Care is Erotic

Self Care. There is something very subtle in the way we care for ourselves, or wish we did, that we search to sense in the touch of others. Something like that loving, nurturing, reassuring voice we’ve been told we’re supposed to have to cheer us on while we get our head in the game. It seems elusive, but do can you recognize that it is a childhood kind of game? That play for the sake of play…

I miss that… kid from far away.

Disappointment. My play with men is so disappointing. In a way that makes me sad for everyone else they encounter and the effects I know are replicated… Still… I am so enamored by some of what seems to be “masculinity”… the display of strength, ego, confidence, assuredness & survivability is attractive, but the way they wield it… so heartbreakingly unkind. I miss. That hacker kid from Kashmir.…

Advice for Letting Loved Ones Die.

Someone asked me what to do about a loved one with addiction.      Me:  …I don’t know… accept it like the personal religion it apparently is? humans are fragile… when they decide to worship self-harm, sometimes there’s nothing you can do but keep loving them… I think addictions are just a slow, somewhat more numb route to suicide… from my own experience, that’s how my addictions manifest and…

Questions: Isn’t protecting women and nurturance culture… just supposed to be part of keeping each other safe day to day? Shouldn’t I be able to conduct my body work business any time of the day, even amongst men? Is it not merely consulting? Observation: They sell drugs and talk money and project coordination and housing and care with each other in front of me. I hang out with them, and they…

I desire safety. I desire comfort. I desire, a body stronger than my own currently is. To lay down and hold onto at night. To support me when I have released a final sigh at the end of the day. I want to wake up and get along alone. But I want to be held when I close my eyes. I desire a night that doesn’t feel oppressive. I desire a hand that doesn’t look for any of my openings, unless it is…

Someone asked me tonight what to do about a loved one with addiction.   I’m addicted to sadness. It’s more familiar than anything else. And I know the implements people like to blame for addiction are many… many rituals… explicit and vague and spontaneous and habitual….   I said…I don’t know… accept it like the personal religion it apparently is?   Humans are fragile… when they decide to worship…