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A concert and a revelation
I was lying in the grass last weekend with my partner, ostensibly at a Pixies show. Really though, Frank Black et al were just pleasant background music.
They did a sexy, slow version of “Wave of Mutilation.”
They played “Here Comes Your Man” a little too fast.
The haunting guitar strums of “Where Is My Mind,” plus those commanding drums, the ones that suck you right in, made everyone freak out. As they should, yes? A respectful freak-out.
I write all this to paint you a picture, see. Because lying in the grass, my partner said something liberatory, something that probably sounds so silly unless you’re me, someone who gets a little manic about achievement and has an almost uncontrollable desire to empty the contents of my brain in front of others, even if it means I feel a little weird afterwards.
It was —
“You don’t have to post weekly if you don’t want to.”
I started Submit Here with somewhat strict guidelines for myself, and I’m not sure if I told you this, but I kind of hatched the idea in therapy. If you don’t know me IRL, I’m a basic-passing mom. But sex positive storytelling has been such a gift in my life, such a salve for the constant toothache of respectability, that it’s something I both want to participate in and expand.
“A place for others to share their truth, not the truth,” my therapist said. She coined that line, and I used it.
I missed my self-imposed Monday posting guideline yesterday, and felt guilty about it. At the same time, I’m still feeling happy and excited about the podcast episode my partner and I put out last week, getting glimmers of - “maybe this. Maybe this is the ride.”
We think we’re gonna do it once a month. Just see where it goes.
This is a short post. But I’m writing it to tell you that I’m traveling, and that I might be a little looser around here, on posting days and cadence and what not. I heard a podcast episode by Emma Chamberlain called “what makes art good?” and listen, the answer to that question is probably subjective. But she said something that’s lingered inside of me:
“Good art isn’t rushed.”
So. This is me, not rushing.
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I have so many weirdo ideas for Submit Here. I am so thankful to have readers. I am terrible, terrible! at social media marketing, and I know I use Instagram wrong, like someone who got it when they were 29 and just can’t figure out what the fuck is hip. But thank God I have artist friends and even some influencer-type people in my life who can help. I will never market this Substack on TikTok, will only ever market it on Instagram like an adult, but it’s taking me time to figure out. And that’s ok.
God. Self-grace, right? It’s hard. But I’m doing it.
On that note: I love your confessional, interesting, sometimes bizarre sex stories so very much. Grace in being real with ourselves. Grace in being human.
And let’s see what we do together.
What I’m currently, voraciously, consuming:
This scorching Substack post about academic thought and narcissism, God damn.
Guides to the Florida Keys! Headed there with the family tomorrow. Hemingway House six-toed cats, here I come.
This podcast episode I helped research/script about praise kink for work. I quite enjoy the fact that praise kink is trending right now, which really, is just compliments. Shouldn’t we all compliment each other more? During sex especially?