Trying to Write Again, After a Year of Upheaval
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.
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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.
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Fourteen years since climbing out of the wreckage, and I’ve never felt more alive—despite the limp, the pain, the aging. Death is a constant companion, sure, but so is desire, vitality, absurd good fortune, and the bittersweet weight of knowing I’m right at the peak.
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Infinity as a protest against death.
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Writing reminds me I’m alive. And, that I’m dying.
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Aha! Or, duh!
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Remembering my mother.
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I love working out with hot women. And I long to keep the evidence I have done so. But I won’t.
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I never used to cry, but now, I dry at the drop of the hat. Here’s what’s made me cry the last couple of days.
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I am a dominant male sex blogger. I am polite, respectful, and demanding. Get to know me.
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