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I’m marking the 15th anniversary of my blog, a few months late. What began as exhibitionistic and therapeutic has become a memoir of my inner life through my fifties.

Celeste has a GREAT ass.

A PAWG? Not quite. But almost….

Trump 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.

I built a custom chatbot. Ask it anything about my life, relationships, or insights. Just know: your conversation isn’t private, the corporate and environmental ethics are messy, and usage is throttled.

Ask N anything!

I’m definitely not saying that I wish Trump had let loose some sort of armageddon on Iran tonight. But. The man is a master of reality TV. And. A total. Fucking. Chickenshit. Sociopath. Pussy.

The AI universe is filled with enshittification.

I’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.

After a year of physical, familial, and domestic disruption, I’m reflecting on my relationship to sexuality, fantasy, aging, AI, and gender in search of renewed creative flow.