Latest posts
-
Why I Wrote Suté and Solitude: Dating, Queerness, and the Beautiful Trash Fire of Modern Connection
Let’s get one thing out of the way: I didn’t write Suté and Solitude because I had answers. I wrote it because I was drowning in questions. About dating. About queerness. About whether emotional intimacy is still possible in a world where most people flirt by reacting to an Instagram story and ghost you faster
-
The Big Beautiful Bill: Signed, Sealed, and Ready to Strangle Democracy in the Parking Lot of a Golden Corral
July 4, 2025 – Washington, D.C. (formerly known as the seat of democracy, now mostly just a themed escape room with worse puzzles) Happy Independence Day, America.While you’re lighting sparklers and dodging Uncle Randy’s racist fireworks rants, the government is signing its final love letter to authoritarianism—The Big Beautiful Bill. That’s not satire. That’s what
-
Screw Perfection. My Books Are Live. Amazon Knows Where to Find Them.
For years, I did the thing we’re all taught to do: polish the manuscript, pitch the agents, wait for permission. I submitted. I revised. I shelved entire books waiting for the “right time.” Spoiler: it never came. So I stopped waiting. I’m self-publishing. And I’m terrified. And proud. And exhausted. And—finally—free. These books are raw.
-
Pray the Gay Away: A Conversion Therapy Survival Guide (Now With 60% More Trauma and Zero Science)
Welcome to Conversion Therapy™—the only place where Jesus moonlights as a licensed therapist and heterosexuality is somehow contagious if you cry hard enough. Buckle up, buttercup. It’s time for a full-bodied, unlicensed, medically discredited journey through the spiritual carwash known as “turning you straight.” Spoiler alert: It doesn’t work. Unless the goal is PTSD, self-loathing,
-
SpaceX and the City: Elon’s Galactic Baby Mamas
Welcome to “SpaceX & the City,” the only show where the launchpad is your loins and the paternity test is pending. Today’s episode? A whirlwind romp through the Musk-iverse—a place where kids are named after Wi-Fi passwords and co-parenting involves occasional Twitter likes. Let’s meet the brave women who made the bold decision to bear
-
Don’t Ask, Don’t Tell, Don’t Heal: The Ghost Policy Still Marching in Combat Boots
Ah yes. Don’t Ask, Don’t Tell—that beloved Clinton-era gem of half-measure equality. The 1993 military policy that essentially told queer Americans, “You can serve your country, but could you please do it invisibly?” Because nothing says “thank you for your service” like “now lie about who you are, suppress your identity, and don’t you dare
-
Stop Waiting for Lisa Murkowski & Susan Collins to Save You – They’re Not Coming
BREAKING: Lisa Murkowski has once again voted to advance a Republican bill that has all the charm of a flaming trash barge drifting through civil rights. And somewhere in Maine, Susan Collins is furrowing her brow so hard it may finally snap in half. She’s “deeply concerned,” y’all—probably writing another strongly worded Post-it note to
-
CDC Panel to “Reevaluate” Childhood Vaccination Schedule—By Consulting Facebook Comments and a Crystal
Breaking news out of Washington, D.C.: The CDC has formed a bold new advisory panel to take a “fresh, vibes-based look” at the childhood vaccination schedule. Their mission? To make public health decisions with the scientific rigor of a YouTube wellness guru doing a liver cleanse in Sedona. Led by chairwoman Karen DeLaVax, whose credentials
-
Why Reese’s Are the Only Friends I Need
A Treatise on Loyalty, Trauma, and Peanut Butter Cups Let me just say it plainly: I don’t need friends. I have Reese’s. And unlike the majority of humans I’ve let into my life, Reese’s have never borrowed my charger, trauma-dumped in my DMs without asking, or “forgotten” to Venmo me after splitting a check. Reese’s
-
I’m Writing a Book (Because Apparently I Hate Myself)
By someone who still thinks grammar matters It’s happening. I’m writing a book. A full-length, printed-on-dead-trees, hold-it-in-your-hands-like-it’s-the-early-2000s book. Because apparently I have a masochistic streak and a deep-seated desire to be wildly underappreciated in the age of microcontent and microwave attention spans. Let’s start with the obvious: No one reads anymore. And I don’t mean