Musing

The real turn-on isn’t the picture, the movie, the voicemail. It’s knowing you did as I asked.

I’m not submissive, but lately I’ve been curious. A Twitter spat with a right-wing operative got me thinking — and writing — things I’ll never post.

Sex-blogger reindeer games, and a few memes I’m inventing.

Intense Debate is intensely aggravating, and I’m thinking of ditching it — even if it means losing every comment to date.

Craigslist ads, dubious correspondents, and the question of what turns me on about a story that may well be entirely fictional.

She wants me to write about her. But I write about what I think and what I do — and she’s not quite either.

I have known monsters. They’re good, decent, kind, loving people.

Fleshbot keeps sending people my way. If you’re one of them, welcome — stick around.

My relationship to money and desire, and the ingenious, self-defeating system I built to get the former without risking the latter.

Not all of what I write is true. But all of it is real.