In this newsletter, you will find sometimes informative, often personal, always humorous travel essays on life, the universe, and other things.
I am a free-roaming columnist, editor, and freelance journalist focusing on sexuality, lifestyle, and culture. I have a monthly sexuality column in Lustery POV titled “Locker Room Talk,” where I examines the way male sexuality evolves—or in some cases devolves—as men get older.
I co-founded and spend my day-to-day running Chill Subs, an online database of literary magazines & community of writers doing a bunch of cool shit.
I co-founded and edit for Seoxgraphy, an online publication dedicated to creating open dialogues on sex & sexuality across cultures. (Clearly, I get my sex elsewhere, so I won’t write essays about it here—just wanted you to know that I’m getting laid.)
I have been a mixed-media journalist for Cointelegraph, and wrote the column “Conversations with Russians” for two years for Russia Beyond. I am also a fiction, CNF, and poetry writer with works in dozens of journals and a novella floating around somewhere.
My writing career began at sixteen when I made a Myspace page for my high school called “Fuck Saint Johns.”
I’d created this whole page where I insulted the Headmaster, his kids, some teachers, and—as if that weren’t enough, I’d directly written “Fuck you” the Deans of Students by name.
A week later, as I sat in the office in front of the Dean of Students, my smut printed out and highlighted on the desk, he said—maybe to himself, maybe to me, “Fuck me?…fuck me. Fuck. Me.”
Then looked up to make it clear that now—now he sure was speaking to me, and said, “Why would you do something like this?”
And, as much as I wanted to sit there and say, “I’m so sorry!” or “I don’t know what came over me!” or “this was a mistake I’ll never repeat!” or something equally responsibly apologetic.
I instead said, “I thought it was funny?”
He spent the remainder of that two-hour talk explaining to me, in painful detail, just how un-funny he thought I was.
Now, nearly fifteen years later, I’m still writing things online that I think are funny, and wouldn’t you know it, my Dean of students has been spending that time creating increasingly sophisticated online avatars to comment on my work and tell me that I’m not.
But I won’t stop trying—one day, I’ll tell a joke, something so unbelievably funny, that he’ll come out of the shadows of the internet and say:
“Son, I’m proud of you.”
