Territory
The Interior
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Dating tina: chemistry, submission, and running away
Read moreI’ve dated several beautiful, intelligent women recently but can’t muster a physical response. With Tina, whose voice is catnip, the problem is she’s not submissive — when I asked her to wear something green and she deflected, every alarm bell went off, and now, shamefully, I want to run.
Isabella: desire, loss, and overlapping worlds
Read moreI’m writing about Isabella, one of two women who taught me the most about my sexuality. She showed me my cock could be an object of desire, while the Secretary taught me my desire itself could be desired. I miss them both — not just for sex, but for the intimacy we shared.
Shame: reflections on self-acceptance over time
Read moreI’m reflecting on how shame has shaped my life and my blog since 2010 — from the radical openness I once had in writing about my most uncomfortable impulses, to the self-judgment and contempt that have crept back in now that I’m less anonymous and less self-accepting.
Bike lane beauty
Read moreI’ve traded my subway commute for an e-bike over the past two years, gaining a new intimacy with the city’s geography and weather, but losing the daily river of humanity that once inspired my peons. This morning gave me my first fleeting glimpse of that old muse — a stunning brunette on a bike, gone in a flash.
Epiphanies
Read moreI had an epiphany about the shame I feel when relationships with women end — a deep sense that I am bad, unworthy, and that the loss is proof of it. It connected my pattern of abandonment to my mother, and felt like genuine news even though I’ve written about it many times before.
Death surrounds me
Read moreDeath has been a constant presence throughout my life — from losing grandparents as a young child to my mother at nineteen. My own 21-year-old child, though, has been largely sheltered from it, and losses are now drawing closer.
Depression part 2: symptoms beyond sadness
Read moreWhat being sad, being a little depressed, looks like in me.
Depression
Read moreI’m depressed. Not TERRIBLY depressed. But depressed.
Making a chatbot: legacy, loss, and llms
Read moreI’ve been building a chatbot to give access to my writing — not to imitate my voice, but to preserve it. This project grew from grief over my mother’s lost writings and a resolve not to leave my child without my output.
Every behavior has a reason: examining pornographic habits
Read moreEvery behavior, sexual or otherwise, contains valuable information. Lately my pornographic habits are raising disturbing new questions I’ve been avoiding — ones I plan to explore in a future post.
The unwritten history of misery
Read moreRemembering my suffering.
Missing v: a bittersweet reflection on lost contact
Read moreI’ve known V since 2011. We aren’t in touch, and I haz a sad.
Trump era politics dampening libido and desire
Read moreTrump has dampened my libido. What I initially attributed to aging, I now recognize as a response to the horror of the current political moment: it’s hard to summon desire in the middle of a national catastrophe.
Fun with ai, or, i’m still an addict
Read moreI contrast my past destructive obsession with commercial sex against my current generative, productive compulsion with AI tools.
Permission, fantasy, and the third rail
Read moreI’m trying to give myself permission to fantasize about off-limits women. It’s HARD!
Losing women
Read moreI struggle to accept the loss of women in my life, a pattern rooted in losing my mother repeatedly.
Being a side: a lament
Read moreI reflect on my lack of passionate, spontaneous sex and the losses inherent in any particular sexual configuration.
Replaying the story of being left despite doing my best
Read moreI keep telling myself a story, using various women, in which I do everything right but am still left, feeling somehow at fault and unable to prevent or repair the loss.
Overwhelmed by ai, drafts, and the end of the blog era
Read moreI’m producing more work than ever thanks to AI, but I’m overwhelmed by unfinished drafts, a sense of online obsolescence, and my own mortality.
Alive vs. dead
Read moreI’ve been investing in myself with more solitary, even solipsistic, forms of sex and sexuality. Maybe this is a little bit about my growing older… All I know is that there’s a distinct shift and ebbing.
