November 2014

A woman I can’t stop watching, even when I should.

My childhood calligraphy error turned out to be more truth than mistake.

I’m exquisitely dominant, but roughness doesn’t come naturally — I go to great lengths to protect the women I fuck from my anger, and I want to understand why.

I’d decided we should stop seeing one another. But then she pinged me, and before long, I was watching her bend down in leggings from a second-story window.

A twelve-year-old boy, a closet, a cousin with breasts, and the indelible shame of getting caught — plus some thoughts on what we owe the teenage boys who do creepy things.

Descending a particular stairway at a particular subway station, I didn’t remember how I used to feel. I felt it.