So Clarisse Thorn suggested that I do this blog hop thing where I talk about a book I'm currently working on and I feel like I'm still at the stage where I'm charting my fertility cycles, but I'm going to write this up as a way of setting my intention for 2013, because I want this to happen and it's past time I got going on it, really.

What is the work­ing title of your book?

The vague title is Safe/Ward: Reflections on Consent Culture and the BDSM Community or something.

Where did the idea come from for the book?

From the workshop Maggie Mayhem and I developed, "Safe/Ward", about combating abuse in the BDSM community. Out of that workshop, we realized we needed to give people an alternative- so we came up with the website Consent Culture with UK supporter Tajasel to talk about these issues and highlight some actual ways to move forward, along with rape and abuse resources that were kink-friendly. This is such a huge and taboo subject for so many people, and it's an incredibly complex issue, far more so than people like to think. So I wanted to put together a bunch of essays- a mix of how-tos and practical essays, personal experiences, and a little bit of smut that centers around consent and negotiation.

What genre does your book fall under?

Hm. Feminist theory, perhaps? Sexuality/relationships, certainly. Ideally it'll fit smoothly in either place.

What is the one-sentence syn­op­sis of your book?

In Safe/Ward, Kitty Stryker edits a comprehensive collection of essays, insights and erotica exploring and critiquing the concept of consent within the kinky community while offering sexy and practical ideas on how to make it a safer, more ethical environment for *everyone*. (I don't know if that's the best I can do, but I'm kind of tired so bear with me :) )

Will your book be self-published or rep­re­sented by an agency?

I'm still trying to decide. There's advantages and disadvantages to both. If I go with an agency, I feel like i can spread the word much further and have more of an impact, which is important- but I might have to water down the message and I would make less per book. Self-publishing would be better, and make me somewhat more, but be more work in terms of promotion and I don't know that I'd get it into, say, sex shops and BDSM spaces, which I think is really necessary. So... still up in the air.

How long did it take you to write the first draft of your man­u­script?

I haven't even begun the outline of what sorts of content I want. It's been a stressful few months and originally I had considered a zine format instead. Then I realized I wanted a book first, then a zine version later.

What other books would you com­pare this to within your genre?

The Revolution Starts at Home, certainly. I think and hope some of the observations will be similarly introspective and self-aware to the tone ethnography of the BDSM scene Playing On the Edge. I want the format to feel a bit like a book I dearly loved, my first introduction to kink, SM Classics. I like the mix of the practical and the fun/erotic, which is especially important, I think, for helping people apply these concepts to the play space/dungeon/bedroom!

Who or what inspired you to write this book?

Maggie and I were living together and talking about our experiences in the BDSM community, and realized how we shared a lot of frustration at how entrenched rape culture was within it, and how unquestioned it was for a community that prides itself on being so aware of consent. I personally started to think about experiences that I had called "crossed boundaries," or "lack of negotiation," or "bad communication," and then I stopped making excuses. I realized it was sexual assault. It bothered me a great deal that I had so internalized that those experiences were just normal, that they were part of being a kinky woman in the scene. And the more I wrote about it, and the more other people chimed in, either to agree or to tell me to shut up, that this wasn't the big deal I was making it out to be, the more I realized something needed to be done on a larger scale. I'm hoping a book on this topic will help keep this conversation going and give us a starting place to critique our various positions of privilege, making us all more aware on how to consciously deal with these issues in an ethical manner rather than just dismissing it as "drama".

******

Thanks Clarisse for inviting me to participate in this!

"Forgiveness is giving up all hope of having a better past" - Lily Tomlin

I masturbated for the first time since you left me.

just letting my mind wash over thoughts of letting go

letting go of you, and us, and bad patterns

thinking of how we would never do this position again

or that roleplay again, how I'd never curl up next to you again

how you'd never rub your beard against my neck again

I pressed that vibrator to me

and came, hard

releasing you

and cried myself to sleep

god I miss you

as horrible as it sounds

it would be easier if you were dead

rather than just in denial

of my existance

and your issues

then I feel like I could mourn you without embarassment

it seems like an awful lot of fuss

over someone still walking around

who never cared enough about me

to let me be vulnerable

or cared enough about himself

to let himself be honest

the death of a relationship is still a death

just with no body

and no funeral

we both stayed because we needed to not feel alone

we clung to each other

our mutual fear of abandonment

wrapping us into a web of codependency

until all we could do was cannibalize each other's sanity

I still feel like I need you, some nights

and that's the problem

it's why we stay with those who hurt us

because our abuser is also the one

who kisses us

goodnight

even as they smother us with a pillow

and walk away

whistling

************

I've been really struggling at times with my attachment to the fact that seemingly I'm spending a lot of time reflecting and going to therapy and trying to get better, and my ex is gadding about and pretending that he did nothing wrong and now that he's free of me everything's good. It's painful, and I grieve the loss of, not just him as a lover/partner, but him as a friend and ally, and as a brother/family/pack member. Still, the more I reflect, the more I realize that if I accept him where he's at right now, he's not in a place that's healthy for me to engage with him in any way- and it's ok for me to feel sad about that, but that doesn't mean I should cave in. It's so hard. I miss him so much sometimes. But love is not enough.

I went to a thing called Breakup Dharma, which I recommend if you're in the Bay Area though dear god set up aftercare. It was a lot more intense than I initially felt, and that night and the next day I felt like I had gone through an intense scene.

Anyway, there were some notes I took that I wanted to share:
-unresolved grief  can push you over the edge suddenly and overwhelmingly- it's healthy to flow with your feelings rather than suppressing them or fixating on them (and denial is a form of fixation)

-I don't tend to doubt my own confidence or strength, per se, but I doubt my safety being vulnerable with others- I'm working on letting go of guilt that asking for what I needed or being honest about where I was at caused me to be abandoned.

-as a leader/activist I tend to feel a drive to help people more in need than I am- but if I'm not in a place of feeling like I can advocate for my needs to be met and that can happen in some way then I feel even more alone/scared

-due to the above, I tend to go for fierce independence instead. This is why I don't tend to get fucked at sex parties- I worry that I'd have to be vulnerable and explain what I need/like and what's working/not working and it might be frustrating if it doesn't work so better to just be a stone top and meet other people's needs.

-this leads to me feeling overwhelmed by being "the strong one" a lot. And then I fear that if I crack that at all I might crumble.

-I need to find balance between self-sufficiency and feeling like I have to be able to handle everything ever on my own- my fear of codependence leads to a fear of ANY sort of interdependence which is equally unhealthy.

-I knew what my boundaries were. When I respect them, and am with someone who really respects them, I feel good, the relationship feels good. I can do open relationships when boundaries and communication are effective. When they aren't, I can't do *relationships*, period.

-I can do my own work as I always have. His not doing his personal work on his anger management issues and mental health issues is about his lack of self-love, his confidence, his codependency, not a reflection on *my* value or worth.

-I decide my own value- and my boundaries are part of that value and reflection of said value.

-I can think about how much better things are now while still honouring when I feel sad or wistful for the past. And asking myself *why* do I want to contact him- what would that bring to my life? Or is that so I can rerun the relationship and cause myself more suffering?

-next time- I want a partner who teaches me, actively, as much is not more than what I teach them.

The photo above is of the altar I made for our relationship.

3.

3:15PM Saturday, October 27

when it happened

you told me not to ask you to stay

that i needed to respect your boundaries

and your word

when i had tried to leave you, mind

there were four hour discussions of why this wasn't necessary

promises made for better behaviour

i gave you space to evolve

i gave you time

because i loved you, and i had faith in you

and in us

you denied me that

which is, i guess, your right

but i want to lay it on the table

there was kindness i offered you

that you denied me

when i had reached the end of my rope

and i called you

it was not to manipulate you into staying

it was not to bargain

it was because i wanted to apologize for making you feel trapped

i felt like the worst person in the world

i realize now that it was a cage you built around yourself

begged me to lock you into

so you could then scream about how cruel i was

you always did like hammering nails into your own hands

i wanted to die you know.

you talked me down by saying how you weren't vanishing on me

that i mattered to you

that what wasn't working was our couplehood

which, frankly, was a relief.

it wasn't working for me either.

we both needed help or we were going to end up on a gurney.

and your promised me

"i'm not going anywhere."

then you left. completely. and you left me devastated. again. worse, this time.

you used to be such a shitty liar. now your poker face kept me distracted

while you robbed me of what was left of my my heart and hope.

let's be honest. now it's too late to bargain. neither of us have anything to lay on the table.

i wish we could talk again. i kind of wish we could be friends.

but the amount of ownership for how you acted is beyond your capacity to care

and that will never happen.

you're too self-absorbed.

i hear your silence is supposed to be your way to help me heal

to help me move on- bullshit.

it's because you don't want to deal with the pain you created

don't want to see my tears. this lack of you isn't helping me heal

it's making me question you ever loved at all.

so i bargain instead with pills and gin

for the perfect combination that will make me as numb

cold-hearted and ruthless

as you.

2.
12:41 Saturday October 20

sometimes it still hurts.

but sometimes, when i think about everything in context

i get so angry i want to shoot you in the forehead with a bullet

made of the engagement ring you bought me

after asking me for the third time. lying to me

for the third time.

and you left our three year relationship via email

while at work

and then had a snuggle date with another woman

i hope you crawl into bed with the kind of person i warned you against

and i hope they destroy you.

you love to point the finger of blame at anyone but you

and yet yeah, you know, i'm going to say it- you held me back.

i used to reassure you that you weren't boring, but really

you seem devoted to being so- without drive, without hobbies.

your hobby was *me*. how desperate is that?

you were lucky to be taken in by me, trained so you could fly

a bird broken by a mother who likes you best with your wings clipped

i showed you that you could be a falcon, not a finch

and you decided to go back to the safety of your cage

because it's hard to grow and change

and it's hard to learn not to hit girls but to use your words instead

and it must be really hard to have to balance your feminist cred

with your unexamined behaviours

i kept quiet because i didn't want either of us to be embarassed

how cliche is that

as per usual, you throw your hands up and say i misunderstand you

well, baby, that's why i kept everything on record

because when i'd say "don't stick your dick in that girl please"

and you'd whine "she controls who i can be friends with"

you're not really being upfront. no surprise

you always loved playing martyr. loved making me angry

then begging me to punch you in the face

to redeem you.

sure, it makes me sick that the friends i introduced to you

the world i showed you

still embraces you now- i made you what you are

but they'll learn, i expect

when you no longer have someone to hide behind

and if they don't

well, they deserve the hassle of taking care of you

let them bottle feed you and change your diaper

you're a colicky baby with a lot of needs

good luck keeping up your facade

i hope you make it on your own

evolve or die, kid

you were never good under pressure

this poem is meant to do harm

here's a knife

let me stick it in

and twist

or even better

do it to yourself

and blame it on me

you always were a masochist

always liked it

when i licked your tears

and spat them back at you

i bet you're reading this even now

1.

11:11AM Thursday October 4

the sun blares like nothing's changed

nothing's changed

right?

your ring is still on my finger

where you put it

so nothing's changed

and yet i'm falling, falling, falling

there's something wrong with my heart

there's something wrong

shaking my head in disbelief

no, this isn't happening

my body crumples into reeds

by the riverside

Hapi smiles

and dunks my head under the water

again

again

and i am blinded

to the lack of you

the sound of rushing water

preventing me from hearing

dial tone

no nothing's changed

it can't have changed

you were just saying how you loved me

yesterday

how could you have stopped so suddenly

how

could this have changed so suddenly

this isn't happening

we can get through this right

we always get through this

and Hapi just smiles

as he drowns me

wegotism (no 'u' in moving on... but there is in 'future'...) (2003)

you say i mirror your interior, the things you hide behind your eyes
you tell me that you want to reach in the looking glass
it's hard to piece back together a past when it's been smashed
stained colors and made beautiful, worshiped like a church
and i think you're still trying to decide if that's truly your desire
and here i am, the cheshire cat, offering you paths and parallels
my lips form the words, "which way, which game will you play?
divide and conquer, like chess? do you want to rid me of defense
slide around my attempts to fight you off and capture me through wit?
or checker, want to hop and skip and jump madly about my board
until you're bored with my way of seeing things in black and white?
perhaps you want scrabble, words built off of words, trapping me
into a maze, a haze of pretty phrases and silly girlish hopes?"

you claim i'm a mirror, that your eyes and heart and soul reflect mine-

i don't know if i dare believe this to be so

i wonder if, when rejected, when i put a fist through this mirror we once reflected
seven years bad luck decided to follow me into this future

************************

this body of mine was *my* church, *my* place to be vunerable
i opened my doors to you, lit my candles for you to pray by
i was your cathedral, a place you felt safe, a place you could kneel and be helpless
and what a mess you left behind when you turned your face away from my redemption
when you renounced your goddess and broke my windows, left me open to the wind

i gaze at the alter where you used to offer me your everything, i taste your blood and tears
i pick up the broken splinters... and it's winter, it's cold in this abandoned sanctuary
i shiver, waiting to be striped purple and stripped of my sanity, left only with my smile
i know what i want, know which path i'd choose, but you smile at my inquiries
just blow a kiss, hit or miss (yet you always hit your mark, my heart; and damn you for it)
and leave me with unanswered questions heavy in the air, sharp like glass shards

************************

it's hard to be a mirror when your light is off
hard to reflect in the dark

This is a poem I wrote years ago, several relationships ago. When it ended, I thought I had ended. As I stopped to think, I realized the similarities were alarming- men who were directionless, pretty, but not focused, submissive in bed and yet somehow ruling my every waking moment. Our relationships started off equal and quickly became tangled messes of codependency held together with hot sex and passionate arguments. My constant anxiety and need for stability coupled with their inability to commit even to a hobby led to a deep seated fear of abandonment that was self-fulfilling and, in the end, necessary for our sanities. I became incredibly self-destructive, falling apart. Everywhere felt it had echoes of us and they were like tiny knives slicing into me when I left the house... so I didn't.

But I lived. I lived, and I moved on, and I survived, and I fell in love again, with other people, and now, I can think back on him, and smile, and shake my head, and think "wow, what the fuck was I thinking". I didn't believe it possible then.

It gives me hope that maybe, just maybe this is what I needed to level up. I have been so mired in practicality and pragmatism. I used to be a decent poet- nothing spectacular, but expressive enough. Perhaps this was the catalyst I needed to move away from prose and back into verse, back into something that's slightly more raw and expressive. Not that blogging isn't, mind, I've never been particularly guarded, but poetry... poetry can have a way to it. A way I've pushed aside for a while. Maybe it's time to bring it back.

considering how things turned out (2004)

when you left
i couldn't have imagined
life without you
love
without you
you were not everything
but close

i would have spent
days
dreaming of a way
to catch your tailwind
in my sailboat
and keep up
with your siren song

but i was never meant
for the waves
yeah
cause you held oceans
in your eyes 
and your heart
made me 
seasick

now
i'm grounded
and i'm finding
i can pull
strength
out from places
i never knew
i harbored

i am loved
by lips that whisper
to me sins
i've yet to experiance
leaves me tingling
and wanting
more

i am sheltered
in earthy eyes
and skin
soft as the soil
that embraces the seeds
of beginning

i embrace my new life
my seed
and thank the stars
i wasn't attractive enough
or cool enough
for you

oh yes
i'm glad
i'm his fair skinned beauty
glad he finds pleasure
in the way my eyes
tear up in joy and pain
glad he makes time
specially for me
and that when i need a hand
his envelops mine

but that
is not
the point
of my happiness

now

i'm good enough
for 
*me*

and when i smile

for once
i truly
mean it

1. Update:

   -I have spent a lot of time containing my incredible anxiety so that I can be someone people can get support from. When I moved here, I vowed I didn't want to be read as crazy anymore, so I hid it, mostly successfully.

   -Things have been close to a tipping point for a while.

   -Mike left me a week and a half ago, in part because my fear was controlling him and it wasn't functional, in part because our communication was wretched, in part because our needs weren't being met

   -I read a tweet where Mike said that he changed his profile image- "before I was in bondage, now I am free" which made me feel like shit- I felt like our entire relationship was a lie and he was rubbing it in my face publicly how glad he was to be rid of me while I was ruined

   -I packed a bag with all the medications I had and enough booze to sink a ship full of sailors because I felt like I had lost my soulmate forever

   -I drove for a while. I knew I had obsessed about the bridge, so knew I couldn't go there. Everyone would look for me there. So I went in the opposite direction with the intention of checking into a motel and ending my pain there

   -I decided to call Mike. I don't know why entirely- I wanted him to know I hurt, I guess, and we hadn't talked on the phone really since the breakup.

   -I kind of expected him to be defensive and blame-y and douchey, but I wanted to say goodbye, and I didn't want him to wonder what had happened.

   -Instead, he was very present with me- I wasn't always making a whole lot of sense, but he was pretty patient. I'm a little annoyed that he heard "please don't disappear from my life, and I hope that maybe, someday, we can revisit a healthier relationship, though god not now" as "stay with me or I'll kill myself" but that's a perfect example of the communication issues we have, so there we go.

   -Maggie explained it well. It's like there was an electrical storm in my head. Mike was the rod I needed to focus and breathe and move on. I feel like I got the closure I needed.

   -I spoke to the cops and we made an agreement about a course of action.

   -I drove back to the Bay and met up with Maggie. I got meds for anxiety (klonopin and topamax) and Maggie made sure I ate. I also got back to as many people as I could, including my family.

   -I made a plan for Vegas with Avens O'Brien, who is someone who has known me and my mentals for a very long time. She's willing to make sure I'm responsible with my meds, and we're going to keep me on task with work and distracted remembering how to have a fun time the rest of the time.

   -I'm flying out so I don't have to worry about interactions with my meds. I'm getting bloodwork done first, and will be back in time for my appointment with the clinic on the 26th.

   -I will postponing my trip to London until such a time as I feel more emotionally healthy.

   -I am safe right now, and I actually want to get better. I want to get better because I want to feel better- I want to get better because I want to be a better partner down the line (with or without Mike), and because... evolve or die. I'm choosing evolve.

   -I am incredibly sorry for the fear, sadness, and worry I put you through. No one did anything wrong, or could've done better.

   -Know that it was real. This was not a bid for attention. I had overdosed multiple times during the week in an attempt not to feel.

   -I am really honored to have such a massive online family, however. Thank you for keeping me alive. I will need support, definitely- but I won't let you down.

What you can do to help if you so choose:

-send me funny limericks about how stupid men are
-send me playlists of breakup music that helps you through
-send me silly videos
-send me hot people to have casual sex with
-send me voicemails here and there over the next week to say hi and remind me you're there
-when I get back from Vegas- take me out with you. Only let me turn you down once.
-hug me, even if I look like a strangled cat when you do it
-record a bedtime story- it was a tradition for Mike and I, and it really helped me sleep- if you're willing, I'll send you a link to my dropbox

thank you ♥

the words hit like a tsunami.

i was watering our future

straightening the linens

making space for you in my life

warming the hearth for you

when you

came home.

it was a beautiful day.

we had kissed, declared our love

and parted ways. nothing unusual.

the weather report said that the storms were lifting

that we were facing blue skies

and promise

ahead.

i never saw the wave come

because I was waiting for you to come home

i was facing the other direction

facing the future.

you crashed through

and it was all mud and rage and pain and fear

destroying everything in your path

these things bubble

under calm seas

and annihilate lives.

sometimes there's no point in swimming.

*******

so Mike left me last week. he had read me a story the night before- talked for days before about our wedding with his family and friends, and then I woke up to an email that said it was over. my issues around him seeing other people had become too much- my fear trapped us both. too late i discovered i may well have an anxiety disorder of my own, and my struggles with trust could have been medicated and mediated. there was no chance to find out.

we've had all sorts of issues. he was physically abusive to me, often with me being physically abusive back. boundaries were often an issue. we both had sexual misadventures that hurt the other and were hard to recover from. still, i thought we were getting better, moving forward. i didn't realize, while i was planning wedding flowers, he was planning escape.

he considers me controlling. this is both true and untrue- true, because the control was something i felt i needed for stability, and because he seemed to want to be controlled. when i told him i didn't want to be his Domme for a while, he begged me to change my mind. but the control is what he left me for in the end. untrue, too, because these things are complex, and there are pages and pages of chats where i would say one thing and he would hear some extreme alternative. often, these arguments were about one girl- one girl i felt uncomfortable with in my gut, but couldn't articulate why. he became obsessed. i became paranoid. our relationship was no longer about us, but about a battle of trust where no one really could win. later i'd discover my gut was dead on, but it was no longer relevant. it only made it hurt more- i lost my life partner, as i always feared.

we both knew the relationship couldn't go on the way it was. i wanted us to be open and was paralyzed at what that might mean. we fought a lot (one of his complaints was that "our friends" called us the drama couple and worried about our fighting) and while our communication was improving fighting long distance when sex is not imminent isn't terribly appealing. he was scared to move here. he was scared to get married. i'm sure he felt he was doing me a favour in the end, not just by leaving but by being cold about it.

i would fight to have my lifemate back even now. i wonder how stupid and naive that makes me, but never mind.

what he perhaps doesn't understand, and might never, is that he abandoned me. not just as a lover, as a partner, as a submissive... but as a best friend. he was my little boy, and i mourn him as such, feeling the pain of a mother who cared so much and whose child has vanished. i also lost a political ally, the stick that held me up so i could fight the world. and i lost my Daddy, the one person i trusted to keep me safe.

losing him, i really did lose everything.

and he seemed to take it in stride, which hurt more- flirting with women, going out, having fun, not having time or spoons for me. why should he, after all, he wasn't my fiance anymore. i expressed my pain, my disbelief, and he said i was insane. later i discovered our breakup was the topic of discussion in places where i had invited him, where i was now painted as controlling and borderline abusive by people who never asked me what happened. and he's afraid to talk because he doesn't have the spoons? baby, i've been making do with my hands, and i'm losing the battle.

i attempted suicide. and i don't know that i really, truly, want to get better, if i'm honest. this was true love, for me. this was my chance at normalcy. he took my heart with him and tossed it in the rubbish. i don't know i can recover from that, if it's reasonable to ask me to.

he'll probably get pissed off at me for this blog. i'm tired of explaining over and over what happened. it's enough trouble to make it through the night. i hope he's happy with his choice.

i have fought on so many levels for such a long time. i carved a space for him in my life, and now i can't live in it- he's blossomed, he's succeeded, and i am ready to lay down my arms and say- you win, world. you win.

********

or maybe this was an earthquake

The Big One.

the one we knew was coming

while mostly brushing aside.

i thought i had prepared our rations

our plan, our survival

but we grew complacent

stopped gluing down the valuables

blocked the emergency exits.

sure, there were rumbles under the earth.

just facts of life

living as we did.

now our infrastructure is gone.

communication lost.

i'm crying for you under the rubble

where i am broken, so broken

unsure if i can save myself

and you don't hear me.

we didn't plan for this.

there's no insurance plan

to cover broken hearts

or the pieces of a life

discarded.

it may not always be so; and i say
that if your lips, which i have loved, should touch
another's, and your dear strong fingers clutch
his heart, as mine in time not far away;
if on another's face your sweet hair lay
in such a silence as i know, or such
great writhing words as, uttering overmuch,
stand helplessly before the spirit at bay;

if this should be, i say if this should be-
you of my heart, send me a little word;
that i may go unto him, and take his hands,
saying, Accept all happiness from me.
Then shall i turn my face,and hear one bird
sing terribly afar in the lost lands.

by e. e. cummings

This will likely be my last entry in this blog.

Yesterday, my fiance left me. It was sudden, brutal, cold. He had read me a story, comforted my worries not 12 hours previously. I woke up to an email that expressed worry, anxiety- and I reached out to talk about it. But he had already made up his mind. He had left me, and I found out by metaphorically coming home and finding his stuff gone. He was cruel when it came to it- all the love of the night before replaced with an emotional robot, Valmont saying over and over "it's beyond my control".

I don't feel the desire to write about sex anymore. I've been slacking on this blog anyway, so this is as good an end as any. Thank you for your time and your attention, and I wish you well.

So, I went to Burning Man. Learned some things about myself.

-I don't actually need to see the Man burn. More important to come early to help out, and then leave without a massive line. Also, I really like having a stop to rest rather than driving straight home.

-I'm a lot more fit than I expect. Biking did not provide any issues for me except for that the seat hurt my tailbone.

-I am not in fact frigid, like I sometimes fear I am. I am in love with my partner. I'm not really interested that often in casually fucking people who are not him, and that's ok.

-I can sober up from pretty much anything in 30 seconds when required- like when the cops show up and arrest my best friend accusing her of a drug-related felony.

-Burning Man is political for me. Every single moment. Burn Wall Street was absolutely my temple.

-I don't think I'd care to go to the Burn without a partner again. It can be incredibly lonely, especially if you can't trust people because they might be undercover cops or rapey douches.

-I prefer to be actively invested in doing things that are practical on the playa, like giving relationship advice and running workshops.

-I fucking love having cute, comfy, cotton clothes I can layer. OMG. I reached for those way more often than costumes.

-The unexamined privilege at Burning Man generally drives me fucking crazy.

I still have a soft spot for Burning Man, but my experiences this year will certainly inform how I do it again. And god, did it make me miss The Boy.