- I have been partial weight bearing for a month and am about to transition to full weight bearing. So now I can stand on both feet and soon I’m going to be walking on both legs and transitioning away from using crutches. My xrays look great, my range of motion looks great and doctor says that things look as good as they possibly can.
- I returned to work last week. I was really anxious about it, but it turned out pretty ok. Folks are glad to have me back and I didn’t have to talk endlessly about getting hit by a car. But wow is it exhausting. Plus it’s just a big transition to a busy office with so much client contact after basically being alone in my apartment for three months. Especially for an introvert. And I am in quite a bit of pain and pretty swollen by the end of the day.
- Using paratransit is the hardest part of going back to work. It’s an exercise in being out of control. It’s difficult to get a pickup window that works for me. Even if I get one, they are sometimes very late; my boss waited with me til 5:45 on Friday. I’m generally alone on the bus and in that way it’s very different from public transit; I’ve never had so many conversations with bus drivers before. It also means that I’m in a different position with regards to control over my experience; I can only get off the bus at my stop. So when a driver has intense road rage tantrums, I can’t get off the bus. They often play loud music or sometimes motivational recordings and I have no control over whether I listen to it or not. It’s a stressful way to begin and end the day, much more so than public transit ever was.
Every time I’ve gone to the doctor since I got hit by a car, and they need to see my knee without the brace, they have always assumed that they would be the one to remove the brace. I say, oh do you need me to take this off, and they say they were going to take it off. The doctors, the radiologists, the PT, all have done this. And then they look puzzled when I say I’m going to take it off myself. What is this about?
I mean, I get that they don’t know I’m stone, or a trauma survivor (though the latter is in my medical record), or that I’d prefer to reduce the amount of touch I experience as much as possible. But, I fundamentally don’t get this. Why would they be the one to remove the brace? I take it off and put it on several times a day. I am in my own body and thus know the most pain-free way to remove it. I know this particular brace much better than they possibly could because I use it all the time and it is wrapped around my body. I have integrated the brace into my life; it is mine now, my mobility device, just like my crutches are mine, part of what makes it possible for me to get around. Why do they think it’s theirs? Or that I would prefer they remove it? Why do doctors have a habit of assuming that I would prefer less bodily autonomy? Why don’t doctors assume I would want as much as I possibly can get?
Sure, I know that it bugs me more than it would potentially bug other folks, to have someone touch me unnecessarily, to have someone else be in charge of my mobility because they are taking control over the things that make it possible. Yeah, it feels dangerous and intrusive and just plain rude to me in a way that might not resonate with all patients in these situations. But, I have yet to meet a disabled person that wants to cede control over the things that make their mobility possible.
I mean, I get it, on some level. Western medicine is built on the assumption that they know my body better than I ever could, that my bodily autonomy is their enemy, and the enemy of my own health. I get that, as an institutional norm. I get that these institutions are built on taking as much bodily autonomy and control away from disabled and sick folks as they see fit, and usually that’s most of it.
And, they don’t remove my clothes from my body if I can remove them myself. Because that is seen as inappropriate. Why is this then appropriate? It is attached to my body. I remove it and put it on daily much like I do clothes. Sure, I would be covered for modesty’s sake, with or without it. Is that why it’s understood as appropriate?
In medical settings, they generally ask before touching your belongings. And maybe these medical professionals would have asked. But I doubt it. They don’t ask before they move my crutches. They don’t ask before they decide to take my sweetie’s cane or mobility scooter.
There is something beyond institutional control here. It feels like…they think it’s theirs. Theirs to move. Theirs to touch. Theirs to remove. Theirs to decide what to do about. Like disability is so intensely medicalized that even medical professionals who had nothing to do with my brace think of it as belonging to them, even if they just met me, even if they need to look at my record or listen to me to know why I’m wearing it. The brace that makes it possible for me to walk (albeit slowly and not very gracefully) is theirs, somehow.
It makes me want to personalize it, to draw all over it or embroider it or mark it visually in some indelible way as mine. To claim it back. To say no, you are not in charge of this, or of me, or of my mobility, or my body. This is mine, mine, mine.
- I am officially living at home, and don’t need nearly as much help as I did immediately post-surgery. I still need help with stuff that requires carrying, substantial standing, or dealing with water hazards. But this is a lot more independence than I used to have.
- I graduated from PT, and am able to get from my place to a car and back, pretty much on my own. Did that yesterday, in fact.
- My disability paperwork went through and I am very grateful to now be receiving benefits.
- I went to the doctor yesterday and my xrays, my incision and my range of motion all look great. In a couple weeks, I will be partial weight bearing (still using crutches), and am scheduled to be returning to work a few days after that. I am now free (and encouraged) to bend my knee as much and for as long as I can.
- You may recall that my glasses broke when I got hit by a car and I have not been able to see clearly for a little less than 2 months. (Not to mention that my 4 year old glasses are oxidizing and irritating the skin on my face.) I still do not have my glasses, despite ordering them three weeks ago and being promised that they would be ready 4 days ago. I learned today that my order was cancelled for some reason, and the glasses place did not tell me when that happened nor the three prior times I called to see when they would be ready. Now I have to wait two weeks, unless by a miracle they are rushed (no promises, he said) and I can get them in a week. This means that I still cannot read text, or write, or watch moving images, for more than about 20 minutes without getting a migraine. I’ve gotten a lot of migraines recently, pushing those limits. And in two weeks, I am supposed to return to work, but my job is impossible to do without being able to see clearly.
- I was able to do a bit of writing recently, leading to several days of migraine, but I am still glad I did it. It made me feel more like myself. Other things in this category: cutting my hair, finally; bending my knee enough that I could close the shower curtain and not get water all over the floor; figuring out how to get Valentine’s Day presents for my boyfriend without entering one store, putting away my own groceries, going on an adventure to pick out a new bookcase (e.g. doing a non-urgent errand out in the world)
The first post, I Talk A Lot, But Not About That, talks about how tops may dominate conversations in kink community but they don't generally talk in vulnerable ways about their needs, desires or experiences.
The second post, I'm Not Just Doing It For You, discusses the myth of the selfless top whose main role is to facilitate cathartic experiences for the bottom and has no needs of their own, and breaks down why I find this myth troubling.
ETA: On Valentines Day, inspired by a gift from a fellow erotica writer, I posted a free erotica story on my website that follows the theme of sadistic desire and top vulnerability. (It is from the POV of a stone genderqueer diabetic werewolf sadist, in case that grabs your attention.)
I slept alone in my own apartment last night, for the first time since I got hit by a car. I’ve spent much of this weekend alone, in my own apartment. Just in time, really, as a month of no alone time in my own space was taking a major toll. I’ve lived alone for the last nine years, except for a month when I first moved to the Bay, and this past month. I’m an introvert, and a trauma survivor, and I need my own space. So, it’s a big deal to have it again.
I’ve been hitting walls this past week. I hit done with transphobic shit from professionals that I need to help me at the beginning of the week. I hit done with no alone time in my own space. I hit a level of physical exhaustion that felt like a brick wall. I hit done with not being able to see. (My glasses broke in the hit and run and I only have very old ones with a prescription that’s wrong). I hit done with the continual asking people to help me do the most basic things I need. Unfortunately, the only one of those that is actually ok being a wall is the one about alone time in my own space. So I’m hoping that getting this time alone in my own space will make the others easier. Because there is nothing I can do about them, really. These are the ongoing conditions of my life right now.
So, I’m in my own space in a new body that moves differently and needs different things, and that means again having to think my way through the most basic things about life. How do I get out of bed? How do I make it to the bathroom safely? How do I get myself some water? How do I get things out of the fridge? How do I organize the space around me so that I can meet my basic needs? What lights need to be left on all the time so that I don’t fall in the middle of the night?
It is constant and relentless work, requiring a level of conscious deliberate thinking that is completely exhausting. Nothing is on automatic pilot, nothing is just easy. Everything is difficult and requires thinking if not pre-planning and asking for help. Everything. The more time I spend here, the more I will be able to have ease in my daily life, but right now, I have little.
I took my first shower since the hit and run, today. It took two weeks of planning to get me there, but the OT signed off on the set up, and I was able to do it, safely and with no falls or mishaps. It thankfully was possible to do the actual showering alone, but the setting up the bathroom and taking down afterwards needed assistance. It did feel good, as well as exhausting. It is good to have finally truly washed my hair. My skin feels happier than it has all month.
I put away my own groceries today (I am lucky enough to be in a place where grocery delivery is possible). Which was exhausting, but it felt really good, to be setting up a food situation that makes me feel like I can take care of that basic need. Thursday was the first time I had “made a simple meal for myself” (as the OT would put it) in my own apartment, and it is good to be able to continue to do that, to be independent about food. Depending on others around food was one of the worst things about being in the hospital (especially because they kept depriving me of it). So, this goes a long way to making me feel safer.
I am stronger than I was, and need to stop less on trips outside of my apartment. PT is a wonder for building that kind of endurance, and it is one of the main things I need to keep working on. I hope to be able to make it all the way to the car without stopping, soon. I’d like to be able to get to and from a car without needing to borrow a mobility device or have someone follow me with a chair so I can rest. I’m well on my way to that goal but it will take a bit more work.
I actually was able to think about Shocking Violet for the first time since the hit and run this weekend. (More specifically, about restructuring so it goes somewhere different after Violet and Jax have their first kiss.) It was nice to be thinking about writing again. I am hoping to do more of that. I’ve got a side project going this week (beta reading for an author I adore) that I’m thinking might get those juices flowing again. I have a month yet of non-weight bearing after surgery, and would love it if I could do some writing in that time.
- I got outside on two different days to do not at all exciting and yet completely necessary things that I needed to do myself. It was hard and exhausting and important and generally successful and did I mention exhausting?
- I almost fell twice. On the same evening. It was bad. I put weight on the leg that I’m not supposed to and freaked myself out about that.
- I went to the doctor, he said I’m doing really well. Xrays look good, incision looks good. Non-weight bearing til beginning of March, then partial weight-bearing. So near falls did not hurt anything, which is a big relief.
- PT hurts hurts hurts and completely wipes me out. Got a whole set of new exercises today which I guess means I’m making progress.
- Nurse came and completely failed to draw blood. Two attempts to draw from my hand (one extremely lengthy) and nada.
- There was a different, terrible home health nurse as a result of failed blood draw. Worse than any of the terrible practitioners I’ve had recently, or maybe ever. Terrible in so many ways, among which were: bumping my injured leg, not listening, berating me for everything in a way that gave the basic impression that I was doing everything very very WRONG, taking blood from an inappropriate and dangerous place, and reciting a lengthy Christian prayer before attempting to draw blood. Her supervisor assures me that she will not be coming back.
- There was an OT who started off bad (laughing after being corrected about my pronoun) but had a lot of useful information and advice and recovered pretty well from the early fuck up.
- There was a social worker that called to make appointment for next week who asked if I prefer to be referred to as a Mr or a Miss. Given all the pronoun fuckups that have occurred since the beginning of this experience, I felt grateful for the question despite its phrasing.
- There was a mix up with my insurance that I did not discover til I went to the doc; they thought my coverage stopped at the end of 2014. My boss says it is fixed now.
- Parts of this are very hard. I don’t want to write about them, but it seems important to acknowledge that reality.
- I’m not getting enough sleep, and have not been able to nap. That royally sucks and makes everything harder.
- I have not been in my apartment for more than brief moments since 2015 began. This week I have taken some steps toward making my apartment accessible for my current disabilties, and it is starting to seem more possible that I could be there again. I can’t quite imagine being back in my own space.
I am exhausted, emotionally and physically, from this experience. The hospital stay was one of the worst things I’ve ever been through (and I’ve experienced some pretty hard shit in my life), and I’m still reeling from that experience alone. It’s hard for me to read and write, because my glasses broke when I was hit, and I am using ones that are a few years old; the prescription is not up to date, and they give me a headache. So, I am not engaging with social media at the same level or responding to emails very promptly. I’m definitely not in a space to write, not fiction, not erotica, not personal essay, and especially not yet about this experience though I do feel like I will do that at some point.
I was run over by a car a couple nights ago. Ambulance took me to the ER, where they did a bunch of scans and xrays, cleaned up the laceration on my head, and sent me home. My leg couldn’t support my weight, so they gave me a walker. I got a call the next morning saying that they had discovered a fracture in my kneecap when reviewing my scans, and could I come back to the ER. This time they put me in a brace to protect the knee, and told me not to put weight on it, or bend it at all and gave me crutches.
I spoke to the orthopedic doc this morning. I need surgery. They will put a plate in my knee. It is an inpatient surgery with several nights stay in the hospital. It will likely happen early next week in hopes that the swelling will be down by then. Surgery recovery is 8 weeks.
That’s what I know right now. I’m still reeling from the news and the experience.
I will be reading my erotica at Leather, Lace & Lust tomorrow night, alongside such amazing authors as M. Christian, Molly Weatherfield, Blake C Aarens, Suz DeMello, Jean Marie Stine, and Mistress Lorelei Powers. Doors open at 630, event begins at 730, at The Center for Sex and Culture 1349 Mission St, San Francisco. Entry $10, tickets here.
I plan to read from my story, "A Large Full Meal", which was printed in Cruising for Bad Boys and Salacious Magazine. It is an intense filthy ride between two trans fag tops, featuring knife play, fisting and rough body play. Here is a taste:
Knives get to me like nothing else. I’m one of those tops that likes to start with a knife and a wall, and go from there. To trap my prey, cornering him, until the wall is at his back and he is stuck facing my bulk and my knife. Because knives get me hard, instantly. There is this electric metal taste that seeps into my mouth, as adrenaline starts pumping in tune to the movements of the knife in my hand. We play that adrenaline together, and I find myself soaking up the steely scent of it, sliding my tongue along skin to taste it.
So it is not surprising that he got to me, and I came face to face with the fiercest animal need I have ever experienced.
A few months earlier, I had caught his eye at a sex club, but we both were busy at the time. I grinned when I saw him in the hallway at the queer conference. He was giving an impromptu lesson on cruising gay men to a couple of eager young trans fags.
“It’s all about the body language,” he explained. “See, in gay men’s community, touch is a primary mode of communication. Say I think that guy is cute.”
He raised his brows at me as I was walking slowly past him. I turned slightly to catch his eye and cocked my head, pausing, eyeing his ass.
“So I’d body up to him from behind, see?”
And he did, slowly. I could feel his breath on my skin.
“And then I’d wait,” he said.
I moved back slightly, completing the contact. He wrapped his arms around my waist, settling in behind me, resting his chin on my shoulder. Even from behind, I could tell his bulk was mostly muscle.
“See how I waited for him to complete the contact before I wrapped my arms around him? It’s all about the subtle signals. Now I bet, if I trailed my hand along his arm, and tilted my head, he’d follow me. We wouldn’t need to say a word.”
He was right. I followed him. Into the single stall all gender bathroom, and locked the door.
Hope to see you at the reading tomorrow!
Item the first: I am excited to be reading at Leather, Lace and Lust, in a few weeks.
When: Saturday December 6th, Doors at 6:30PM, Event starts at 7:30PM
Where: The Center for Sex and Culture, 1349 Mission St, San Francisco
What: A night of kick-ass erotica performed by ass-kicking writers! Sponsored by WriteSex. $10 admission fee.
Who: Our featured performers include:
· Suz deMello, a.k.a Sue Swift, is a best-selling, award-winning author of seventeen romance novels in several subgenres, including erotica, comedy, historical, paranormal, mystery and suspense, plus a number of short stories and non-fiction articles on writing.
· Molly Weatherfield: "Twenty years ago, a mild-mannered computer programmer decided to spend some quality time with her erotic fantasy life, and Carrie's Story - BDSM for smart girls - was born."
· Mistress Lorelei Powers is a well-known bi poly sadist and Domme. She is the author of several BDSM classics, including On Display, The Mistress Manual, and Charm School for Sissy Maids.
· Blake C. Aarens is an author, poet, screenwriter, playwright, and a Black Girl Nerd.
· Jean Marie Stine is the author of a number of pioneering works of erotica published in the late 1960 and early 1970s, beginning with Season of the Witch in 1968, which was filmed as the motion picture Synapse. Her erotic short stories and novelettes have been collected as "Trans-sexual: Fiction for Gender Queers."
· Xan West refuses pronouns, twists barbed wire together with yearning, and tilts pain in many directions to catch the light. Xan adores vulnerable tops, strong supportive bottoms, queer activist communities, red meat, and cool, dark, quiet rooms with comfortable beds.
· M.Christian is a recognized master of erotica with more than 400 stories in such anthologies as Best American Erotica, Best Gay Erotica, Best Lesbian Erotica, Best Bisexual Erotica, Best Fetish Erotica and many others.
Item the second: I am participating in NaNoWrimo this year. The queer kinky erotic novel I am working on is tentatively titled Shocking Violet, the tale of a tg stone butch and a high femme cis queer woman risking connection with each other, set in NYC amidst the intensity of trans inclusion activism. It revolves around their efforts to build the trust and access intimacy that is necessary to explore the D/s they both really want. It is a deeply polyamorous love story, a story that centers two fat disabled Jewish queers in their queer communities, and highlights their commitment to honoring the multiple vital relationships in their lives.
For those wanting to follow along, a synopsis is here. The Pinterest inspiration board (full of images that I’m using to inspire moments in the novel) is here. The first taste I offered–centering Jax’s attraction to Violet–is here. And here is the second taste, which gives you a moment from their first date, where Violet touches her own submission for the first time in a very long time. This tease of an excerpt shows Violet being tart and ferocious in a way I personally enjoy very much. I may have a crush on her myself, right along with Jax.
Item the third: My gay fireman erotica story, “Facing the Dark”, has been printed in Coming Together: Pro Bono, a collection that was released this weekend. This is a charity collection to help raise money for the legal defense fund for Dear Author, in light of the recent lawsuit with Ellora’s Cave. You can get your copy here.
Here is a small taste of “Facing the Dark”, a story that centers cathartic play between an experienced sadist with a thing for firemen, and a fireman who wants to face his fears. As a heads up, this excerpt includes descriptions of pain play, rough body play, and breath play.
My hands gripped him, and I plundered his mouth. I slid one hand into his hair and gripped it at the roots, pulling it in time with my thrusting tongue. He tasted sensitive and surprised, his mouth almost innocent. My cock swelled as I twisted my hand in his hair, my tongue violating his mouth.
I slid out of him, and took his breath, covering his mouth and nose with my hand so that all he could smell was leather. I watched his eyes widen, watched him clench a fist to prevent himself from struggling. I waited as long as I dared the first time and then gave him his breath back, my hand sliding to his chest to feel it rise and fall. Then I took it again, this time biting down on his shoulder as I did, feeling his body react to the pain. His hands reached for me slightly, but he stopped them. I ground down onto his scarring, sending jolts of juicy pain right to his nerve endings, as he began to tremble just a bit. I lifted up, still blocking his air supply, meeting his eyes. I breathed in deeply, savoring the control.
“Your breath…is mine. Yes. I have it. You have given it to me. Let go.”
His eyes shifted, even settled a bit. I could tell he had started to float. And then I let him breathe. I stepped back and grabbed my SAP gloves. Now I could really get started. Punching on the pecs is one of my favorite things. With a guy like this, who is so strong, to make the kind of impact I want, I needed to up the ante. My lead shot gloves do that nicely. I rammed my fist into him, and felt the difference. Punches on the pecs are hardest on the mind. Blows are coming dangerously close to your face, but you are supposed to offer yourself to them. The deep impact jolts the wind out of you, and makes you feel like you have no defenses, like your strength won’t protect you. I could see it register with him, now, as I slammed force into him—that he was giving up his armor; that he had no control, had given it to me; that he was naked before me, and I was going to reach inside and take what I wanted from him.
My dick was throbbing as I watched him take it. He kept balanced, breathed with it, but his eyes just looked so raw and young all of a sudden, like I had reached past his toughness, slid through whatever was haunting him and found the part of him that was vulnerable and hurting. I just kept pounding him, knowing it was going to break through, watching for it, until it burst through his eyes. Tears slid down his face and he just kept standing there and taking it, letting it bubble out and through. It was gorgeous to watch. What courage that takes. I soaked it in, not holding back, relentless as I slammed into him, letting the dam wash through him and out his eyes.
The queer kinky erotic novel I am working on is tentatively titled Shocking Violet, the tale of a tg stone butch and a high femme cis queer woman risking connection with each other, set in NYC amidst the intensity of trans inclusion activism. It revolves around their efforts to build the trust and access intimacy that is necessary to explore the D/s they both really want. It is a deeply polyamorous love story, a story that centers two disabled Jewish queers in their queer communities, and highlights their commitment to honoring the multiple vital relationships in their lives.
If you want to follow along: the synopsis is here. The first taste, which centers Jax's spark of attraction for Violet is here. The inspiration Pinterest board (an ever-growing collection of images that I’m using to inspire the novel) is here. And I just posted a second taste, a snippet from Violet & Jax's first date.
ETA: I posted a third excerpt here.
In other news, my gay firemen cathartic play story "Facing the Dark" is slated to be printed in a charity anthology, Coming Together: Pro Bono, and my genderplay edgeplay story, "Strong" will appear in Best Lesbian Erotica 2015. Both of these books are coming out soon.
I've been doing some new writing on my website that may be of interest:
- A post about the ways we talk about BDSM play and the importance of language that acknowledges mutuality
- A post describing why I write Daddy porn, even though I don't do Daddy play anymore
- Two fisting excerpts from my erotica in honor of International Fisting Day
- A rather long post talking about the problem I have when I read "no cis men (yes trans guys)" on a dating profile
- A resource post for superfat folks seeking medical imaging
When: Saturday September 20, 2014. Doors open at 7pm. Reading starts at 8pm.
Where: The Center for Sex and Culture in SF. 1349 Mission St. between 9th and 10th
What: Perverts Put Out! is San Francisco's long-running pansexual performance series. Join a sexy celebration of leather and lust at Perverts Put Out!'s annual pre-Folsom-Fair show, with performers including Sherilyn Connely, Greta Christina, Phillip Huang, Lori Selke, horehound stillpoint, Xan West, with your hosts Simon Sheppard and Dr. Carol Queen.
Cost: $10-25 sliding scale
I am excited about reading from a piece that centers two trans characters, so I am planning to read from “Missing Daddy”, which was recently reprinted in Best Gay Erotica 2013. It was described by the editor Paul Russell as a “breathtaking foray into extreme sex”. It features a Daddy reminiscing about when he was a boy dreaming about gay public sex, and being claimed by his first Daddy. Both Daddy and boy are trans men, a bear and his cub with a sweet and raunchy dynamic, and they are part of a community of gay trans men. One of my main goals in writing “Missing Daddy” was to illustrate what it’s like for a bottom who is not a masochist to choose to take intense pain as part of his submission. You go through that experience from the bottom’s point of view, hear how it feels and what he thinks about it, and hopefully get a glimpse of why he might choose that, what it means to him.
In other erotica-related news, my piece “Strong” will be included in Best Lesbian Erotica 2015, which can be pre-ordered right now.
Also, I posted a “Snog for Sommer”, along with over 50 other erotica writers, to support the erotic writer Sommer Marsden, whose family is grappling with pancreatic cancer.
I hope to see you at Perverts Put Out, if you are in the Bay next weekend.
Suggested donation of $7-15 sliding scale. Pay what you can and no one turned away for lack of funds!
Access info: While the Center for Sex and Culture is not ADA accessible, there is wheelchair access through the front door and chairs have fit in the bathroom with relative ease. Our automatic door opener sometimes works, so sooner to the event we will update as to whether it is working or not! Please come scent-free (also no smoking outside the door and please be aware of chemicals you may come in contact with throughout the day).
I’m excited to be part of this event, and have been percolating for the last couple weeks, thinking about what I want to say. It’s so important to talk about disability and kink, and I can’t wait to be part of this conversation!
I also wanted to let you know that I will be reading my queer kink erotica at the pre-Folsom Perverts Put Out on Saturday September 20th. I am so excited to be part of this event for the second year in a row. I had an amazing time last year and I hope you will consider joining me.
I’m working on collecting resources on my website that others may find useful. I’ve got a resource list on chronic pain and kink, and a bunch of resources for writers, including two lists of calls for submission, and a resource list on writing the other. I’ve also got several erotica round-ups, including ones on erotica from the top’s point of view and one on Daddy edgeplay stories.
I hope I will see you at the panel tomorrow!
When: Saturday August 23rd, 2014. 6-830pm
Where: The Center for Sex and Culture 1349 Mission Street San Francisco, CA [Between 9th and 10th Streets, on the corner of Grace Street]
Who: Carrie Wade, Lyric Seal, and Corey Alexander (me!)
What: Disabled Pride/Disabled Pain: Stories of Kink & Disability
The Center for Sex and Culture is proud to present a panel discussion of disabled folks discussing their experiences with kink. Join a panel of bad-ass disabled folks for story-sharing centered on disabled pride, sex, power, and (even sometimes) pain.
Suggested donation of $7-15 sliding scale. Pay what you can and no one turned away for lack of funds!
Access info: While the Center for Sex and Culture is not ADA accessible, there is wheelchair access through the front door and chairs have fit in the bathroom with relative ease. Our automatic door opener sometimes works, so sooner to the event we will update as to whether it is working or not! Please come scent-free (also no smoking outside the door and please be aware of chemicals you may come in contact with throughout the day). ***We are working on getting an ASL interpreter so as soon as interpretation is confirmed we will make a post on Facebook!***
I’m really looking forward to being part of this event; these kinds of conversations are rare and precious to me.
In related news, one of my core writing projects right now is a series of queer kink erotica stories that center fat disabled trans and genderqueer folks. I talk about this project on my website, and share excerpts from some of the stories I’ve been working on. I have also been doing a bunch of writing about writing erotica, which is collected on my website here. My series of posts on writing for trans readers may be of particular interest. I have also been working on translating my classes on stone sexuality into a blog series. My latest post in this series describes the pleasures of stone sexuality. I am also working on my first novel, which I’m pretty excited about.
I hope I will see you at the panel in a couple of weeks!
I turn 40 tomorrow. I’m pretty excited about it. If you want to help me celebrate my birthday, I sure would appreciate any of the following birthday presents:
- Post a review of one of my stories, or of a book in which my work appears (on Goodreads, Amazon, on your blog, wherever), and point me to it.
- Show up to see me be on an awesome panel about kink and disability at the Center for Sex and Culture in San Francisco on 8/23.
- Donate to one of these awesome queer & trans crowdfunding campaigns. Help make queer & trans art happen: the Happy Birthday Marsha film project, the Flamingo Rampant book club or The Switch: A Transgender Comedy