They say that is an ancient Chinese curse, but like so many things we like to believe that it’s total bullshit. It’s no more “ancient Chinese” than the secret in the old laundry detergent commercials. Or spaghetti.
And who cares, right? The era we are living in now is being described as “post-truth,” which is certainly interesting, if not really all that new. We’ve been living “post truth” for a long time. The difference now is that people can find out for themselves. But they don’t. Or they don’t care because the lies serve their needs and desires. Politicians and community leaders used to lie all the time and we just had to take their word for it. In the information age we can fact check them, and we do, but they still lie constantly. And no one does anything about it.
So fuck it. And fuck them.
(And fuck me, if you get the opportunity.)
The world is a mess. And what can I do? I write stories about people who love sex having sex and being happy about it. Is that helpful? I’d like to create art that soothes a tired and injured humanity, but I’m not sure if the world is ready for what I have to offer. My version of “peace on earth” is very similar to “piece of ass.”
So anyway, the year is ending and in many ways it feels like the world is ending. I just hope it goes out with the right kind of bang.
I won’t lie, I got caught up in the political landscape of our country leading up to the election, and that turned out to be a nightmare for me creatively. And sexually. The pain of the loss of possibility and potential that I experienced that night will stay with me forever, I assume. It came on like a physical ailment, like slipping further into a terrible fever as state after state slipped backwards into the cesspool of social conservatism. By the time the networks were calling it for Trump, I was despondent. My partner offered sex to lift my spirits, but in a rare state of malaise, I TURNED IT DOWN. That’s not like me at all, but the classic “not tonight dear, I have a headache” line was literally true for once. I sought the refuge of sleep, alone, and welcomed the deadening darkness that overtook me.
And that lasted, like, one day. By the end of the week, I was back to firing on all sexual cylinders. Some time the following week I got the bug to start writing about it again.
I am worried for our country and for the world in general. I don’t think we are OK, and I don’t think we are going to be OK. I hope kindness, understanding, and love win the day, but their representatives are not in charge at the moment. We could be in for a long haul, so it might be wise to shelter in place with a good book, pen and paper, and something hard and throbby.
My favorite things are reading, writing, and fucking.
I’m going to do as much of that as I can while it’s still legal.
A couple of days ago I wrote jokingly about perhaps being a little crazy. Well, I seem to have pissed off all my other personalities because now they don’t want to talk to me at all. I squeezed and dragged and screamed all day long yesterday and only managed around 100 words. Come on people, can’t we find a happy medium? Make me a happy medium and I promise I’ll do right by you on the page.
That’s all. Just a shout out to the writing gods, or demons, or whoever. Give me this day my thousand words.
I’m still plugging away on Volume 4 of my GOOD FRIEND series. This one is about a woman who watches, and is watched by, a teenage boy in the house across the street. She started out as a quickie character who existed solely to get me to some dirty sex writing, but as seems to be the case more and more, I am growing to care about her as a person. Yes, you read right. I am connecting emotionally with a fictional character that exists only in my brain. I’m not sure if it’s just my own personal crazy or if other writers also feel this way about their creations. Would it change anything if I found out it’s only me? It’s doubtful. I’d probably keep at it, populating worlds with confident sluts who know exactly what they want but sometimes get more than they bargained for. The kind of woman I might be, if only on paper.
The other thing I’ve been dealing with is newer stories trying to force their way out before the current ones get themselves written. What’s with all the pushing and shoving? Calm down. I’ll get to each of you in turn. I currently have three stories in progress and notes for around a dozen more, and they don’t even include Volumes 5 and 6 of GOOD FRIEND. All I know for sure on those is that 5 will be about hypnotism and 6 will be my first 3-way story. After that, I expect to move on to a new storyline for a while, but I may decide to come back for another round of tales from this world. The idea of these people confessing their sexy sins in this format excites me, and more and more I’ve been thinking it might be fun to play with some crossover of these characters. Those of you who read GOOD FRIEND VOLUME 0: The Loophole will understand how that’s possible. All I need to do is finish that story and get more of you signed up on my mailing list so I can send it out to you for free.
So I guess that last paragraph ended up suggesting that you should go up to the far right of my website menu bar and click where it says “Mailing List.” Enter your info in there, verify it, and you will absolutely NOT be inundated with junk mail from me. I’ll send you the special members only story when it’s ready and an occasional notification when a new book comes out, but other than that I’ll assume that you want junk mail as much as I do.
I’ll leave you today with a video from PULP. They have been my soundtrack lately and I want you to love them as much as I do (if you don’t already).