More butch than femme, more leather than lace. I love to write, but don’t consider myself a writer.

Reformed hermit. Perverted prude. Homebody who likes to travel. And, most recently, a sexually monogamous person exploring the world of polyamory.

I make words, make art, make love, and sometimes even make sense. This blog is my personal diary, sounding board, writer’s desk, and voice in the wilderness. I can’t tell if the glimpses of life that I leave here are surreal or mundane; I suppose that is for you to decide.

Thanks for stopping by in my little corner of the internet.

  1. December 21, 2008 at 9:20 am

    One of the virtues of literature, or verbal communication, is the often implicit articulation of the speaker, or writer’s, idiosyncrasies. On this note, I love yours – both obvious and veiled. More, please…

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