Writing

A sex-blogger kerfuffle, in which I insert myself where I may not be welcome.

A brief meditation on spelling and ejaculation.

Slowing down here so I can write elsewhere. The blog will still be here. So will I.

A retraction, a clarification, and an invitation.

A manual, of sorts, inspired by Hyacinth, on keeping secrets, not being a dick, and defining success downward.

I used to hide behind your desires. Now I know what I want.

An open letter to Hyacinth, on the surprising difficulty—and arousal—of trying to write someone wet from 1,500 miles away.

A blog crush, a challenge, and the promise of more.

A friend challenges me to stop using words of seven letters or more. I’m already failing.

You know what I choose to show you, and almost nothing else.