12:15pm: i meet at my friend’s house, where they are already with another friend. we walk to a coffeeshop where yet another friend works and hang out for a bit, then we walk to the park and see some other friends and hang out for a while. i get to introduce one of my best friends to my other friends and everyone loves each other.

2:30: we begin walking through golden gate park. we take edibles and enjoy the perfect weather. t-shirt weather.

3:00: sf yacht club, bison. have spiritual moment with the bison.

3:30ish: get to ocean. hang there for a bit. walk to train.

4:00ish: go back to brewery near where we started and have burgers. i am compelled by a woman’s drink that looks like a haribo peach ring. the color keeps distracting me.

5:30: our friend from the coffeeshop joins us. he asks the lady for me what her drink is. it’s something NA and he brings me one. it’s delicious and feels like a potion.

6:30: we start to walk toward our respective homes/next stops. i drop my friend off at a bus stop, my other friends at a bar, and then get myself home.

7:30: i take a bath and watch random videos on Youtube.

8:30: masturbate

9: cozy in bed, watch something random on HBO

10; lights out. fog out the window settles on the street.

Lately I’m thinking about how to actually do something with all my thoughts and feelings and ideas. Sometimes I feel I’m not ambitious enough for this version of capitalism, but then again, I think we’ll be in some sort of Water Wars soon, so maybe ambition is moot.

A friend recently sent me an app to a writer residency, something I haven’t even thought about doing since I did one in 2019, and I think I’ll apply even though I don’t feel like I have some project I really am working on, or that I’m particularly “in” the literary community here, though I do have publications and I have done readings and I consider some poets my friends. In fact, the best poets are my friends.

I have recently discovered that my preferred way to have sex often involves water or some sensory elements, either deprived or added. I like when my lover cannot see me and so must rely on how it feels, which requires a certain amount of awareness, attunement, and dropping in. You have to breathe through it. Sometimes I have to remind them, to breathe. I think I feel most connected when we breathe together.

I took a step back from SW at the beginning of this year because I was burnt out on the marketing, though I do miss the work itself. I miss the feeling of flesh and talking to a stranger over a meal or a drink. I am still dabbling, trying to get both feet back slowly, at a pace that feels sustainable. I underestimated how hard it would be to keep up with all this now that I have another business I run. And that one, too, I find motivation swims away from me. Because I am more interested in reading in park, or doing food -based mutual aid with my neighbors, or kissing kissing kissing for hours. So I’m supposed to be an entrepreneur. But I just want to be a naked body.

Nonetheless, I do want to meet more of you. My will is coming back because I genuinely miss it. I crave real connection, and sex that feels dropped in. I want you to let me make some decisions about it while still voicing your needs. I want us to practice together. And also I want to be a third for some hot older couple. If that’s you, let me know.

So anyway, that’s what’s up with me. I think that’s all for now. I have a lot of clothes and other trinkets I am craving right now that can be found on my wishlist, if you go looking for it.

But much like my sudden realization a few years ago that my lifelong affinity for small tits could be shaken and I could (and did) develop an enthusiasm for big mommy milkers, I have come into the knowing that New York…is also good. Different, but good.

After spending most of the early pandemic days in blooming, spacious, gorgeous, quiet Seattle, and much of 2021 on a road trip alone, with lots of solitude and access to nature, my visit in 2021 to the Big Apple felt overwhelming and claustrophobic. Every street felt like a “downtown,” the smells and sounds consumed every waking moment, and there appeared to be no reprieve in the constant barrage of stimulus. Plus, it was humid and I left the South for a reason.

This time, I was immediately enraptured with the charm of this little town.

Almost immediately, on my first day in town, a bit run down from a long day of travel but nevertheless excited to explore, I was hit with a very strong wave of sonder — the realization that everyone is living a complicated, singular life, just like mine. I’m no stranger to this feeling, given my occupation, but it came on strongly while waiting on a subway platform, watching a train going the other direction pass me by. Something about seeing people who may never know I glimpsed them through the window at dusk, absorbed in their own dramas. It was the sheer density of people, an inescapable feeling of being surrounded. But it wasn’t claustrophobic. It was comforting.

I experience a lot of things in the New York subway, specifically. I have had a few “I feel like I’m going to run into someone I know on the subway” moments in the city, across years, and each time, it has come true. Once it was even a specific person I thought I’d see. This time, I managed to run into a friend who was also in town from SF, while I was entering a train station I wasn’t even supposed to be at (long story, but the serendipity was cool).

This feeling of sonder persisted. I really enjoyed my “alone” time on the subways — long stretches of time to listen to music and look around, sharing a peopled space but having my own experience. It was the perfect way to decompress between my nonstop schedule of events and commitments.

One of the very fun things I got to experience was International Ms. Leather. Not only did I get to see so many friends, I even got to piss in one of their mouths! I actually don’t know that I have anything insightful to say about piss kinks aside from the way I find it very intimate, very bonding, and very convenient to not have to go find a toilet. I encourage everyone to try it at least once, either as the pisser or the…pissee?? I’ll get back to you on that.

Other highlights included:

• birthday dinner with the most ragtag group of friends that really showed me how sweet my life is with connections and community (attendees included: my high school best friend’s bestie (one of many) from college, my good friend’s recent ex boyfriend, my college best friend’s childhood best friend, and a friend I met dancing in SF who is based in NYC).

• midnight panel at an academic conference that was a stimulating conversation between two of my favorite current thinkers and writers

• two bubble baths in my hotel room

• room service cheesecake

• live band karaoke

• passionfruit cream puff (?)

• something called a tuxedo no.2 which is a version of a martini that I deeply enjoyed and will be thinking about often

• spending the day at a spa, half alone and half with a friend

Alongside sonder in NYC, I really really liked how nice everyone was? People struck up conversation everywhere, acknowledged each other, and generally were quite friendly to me. I felt very cared for everywhere. The constant excitement was exhilarating. There was no shortage of things to do, but I also got solid good down time to catch my breath. I also was delightfully humored by seeing situations that were very classic “I’m walkin’ here!!” Quite charming. Almost felt like the whole city was putting on a show just for me.

I would love to return more often than my once a year-ish visit, but unfortunately I’ve been spoiled with boyfriends who make sure I never fly economy for such a long haul, so I’m only ever tempted to come by invitation <3

Things I’d like to do that I haven’t yet gotten to do in NYC:

• Broadway, for the love of god!

• Fine dining (Daniel is top of list but open to other ideas)

• Archival vintage shopping

• Ice skating at Rockefeller

• Honestly, Central Park in general?? Has somehow eluded me every time.

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Belated birthday gifts

That said, a generous benefactor has graciously offered me a flight to New York for my birthday in April because I want to attend an academic conference. Yes, you read that right: my birthday dream is attending an academic conference.

The dates are April 22-25.

Alongside that, I have several friends I haven’t seen in ages, and will be enjoying skipping about town catching up with them.

At the same time, I would not be opposed to meeting one or two people while there, especially if those plans include dinner at one of my wishlist restaurants or seats for Oh, Mary on Broadway.

If you can’t see me there but would like to contribute to my birthday fun, I will happily accept:

• aforementioned Oh, Mary tickets

• $200 toward my conference registration

• $100-500 toward meals/shopping

• treats from my wishlist (current faves: anything in the “most wanted” category, or any other jewelry listed)

• this nipple barbell (exact cost dependent on sizing which I need to go figure out in person, but ranges $1,250-$1,450)

Alright, I think that’s all! Beep me if you want to meet up and kiss.

xo,

S

I have had the misfortune of falling ill right before a trip to Portland, so I am missing not only the excitement of caretaking for a loved one (genuinely, was really excited about it), but also a few fun things I had scheduled for myself up there (seeing my therapist in person, getting a tattoo), AND the beautiful weather outside my front door. Because of this, and since I am feeling marginally better, if not any less mucus-laden, I took myself on an Errands Walk.

An Errands Walk is something I give myself on days like this, when I have no plans or obligations but a desperate need to get out of my house. I assign myself something I need to get done (drop off my dry-cleaning, pick up a book on hold at the library), and pair it with something fun to occupy me while I’m also out (scouring the store for my current craving (red velvet cake), trying on a coat I swooned over the other day, and reading my book in the park). On the way out, I take my laundry down, stripping my sick bed and saging my apartment, leaving the air filters running while I go do my little tasks. In this fashion, I can kill a few hours and feel sublimely productive even though my cognitive capacity is still only at about 70%. I used to do a lot of these when sex work was my full-time gig, because even between bookings and admin, it never took up 40 hours a week, and I was left with a lot of down time. I still have these days as I’m sort of part-time sex working and part-time other careering, though increasingly less frequent.

For the past few weeks, and if I’m being honest, months, I have felt a tiresome quality to my engagement with sex work, which I have now officially been doing for six years (though unofficially I’ve had my toe in since I was 18). Maybe it’s the resistance of men wanting to screen lately, maybe it’s the way social media engagement has completely changed since I started, making what once used to be my most fun and lucrative way of advertising a complete bore and crapshoot, maybe it’s the way I feel unwilling to keep up with certain aesthetic trends, photoshoots, investing and reinvesting in trying to keep up with a landscape that feels bleak and impossible to track.

There’s a way that stepping back feels like putting down an identity that changed my life, that connected me to people I genuinely consider friends (clients and colleagues alike), and allowed me to pursue this alternate career that is now demanding more of my attention. And that comes with grief, and even some small bit of shame, like I don’t have what it takes to keep up with the changing times. But the truth is, it’s just a job. A job that right now, has served its purpose in my life. It allowed me new freedoms, new possibilities, new friendships, new experiences. It opened the world for me. And now, it’s time for me to walk with more confidence into that world, seeking new challenges and lessons that the demimonde can’t actually give me.

So, it’s time. For me to take a bigger step back. Is it “quiet quitting?” Sure. Is it going to lead to eventual full retirement? Possibly! Might I return, rejuvenated and ready to schedule another photoshoot and plan a world tour? Unlikely, but I’m no oracle. I’m just a woman with a new vision of my future.

What does this look like in practice?

• I will no longer be posting or monitoring social media, (BlueSky, Twitter) though I am leaving them up for now so people can find this blog

• I will no longer be updating or renewing my ads (though I’m leaving them up in existence).

• I will no longer be going on tours

• I am ceasing essentially all marketing geared toward new clients.

What are the caveats?

• I like Substack, and will still post on it, but more like my personal social media; things I find interesting, errant thoughts, perhaps diary-like entries if I feel called. Most importantly, my posts will be on my own time, when I feel like it.

  • In addition, I will start offering erotica stories behind the paywall. Paying subscribers will have access to more regular erotica fiction, and occasional stories from my sex work past, for the more salacious inclined.

• Familiar faces & new clients are still welcome to reach out though I can’t guarantee I’ll be available. To emphasize my current schedule load, I’ve raised my rates, though currently scheduled appts will be honored at the previously listed rate. I’ll also be checking my work email with less frequency, so any correspondence may take longer than usual. If you have my phone number, you’re inner circle and are welcome to ping me there.

  • Sex workers are also always welcome to reach out, whether we have met or not. I may log onto social media on occasion solely to check my DMs, but it will be easiest to reach me via email; I’ll give you my number if you want to connect.

• If I go somewhere on a personal trip (to visit friends, get tattoos, etc), I may or may not reach out to existing friends in those cities if I feel like it, but I won’t be advertising my travel.

• I will be revamping my offerings for copywriting for sex workers. This is something I have offered continuously, with and without advertising it, for years, but it took a back seat while I was in grad school. I am now open for commissions and will be making a post with testimonials, rates, and logistics.

• I think I will be renaming and updating the name of this publication and its goals. Stay tuned.

I want to extend my deepest gratitude to everybody I have met in the past six years. I wouldn’t be who I am without your generosity and support. I hope that those of you who found me through those channels stick around to see my writing in its new shape, and I hope that newcomers find what I have to say interesting (I sometimes doubt that what I have to say is interesting, per se, but I digress).

Now would be a beautiful time to upgrade your subscription to access erotica, support my launching into a new career, and otherwise send me off with high regards, waving a metaphorical hankie at my departing steamship.

Bisous!

Simone

I sincerely plan to get back to more regular writing in the new year. I just am also juggling two businesses, navigating interpersonal relationships, and getting stuck cuddling my cats every morning, which is prime writing time for me. The only reason this is getting done right now is because I am caffeinated, it’s 8AM, and my cats have not yet caught on that my lap is “available” (they like to pretend my laptop is not real).

Since this is unplanned and meant to cover a plethora of small subjects & share tour dates, I’m just gonna throw some stuff at ya and hope you enjoy it.

Highlights of this year:

• getting my hand tattoo

• sexual escapades, including seducing young men and generally stepping into my power

• getting to hang out with birds (and crocodiles!) in Mexico (especially pelicans, which those who have had the pleasure of intimate time with me will particularly understand)

• watching my tits get naturally bigger (genuinely such a gift. is it age? is it the right amount of weight gain? I don’t know and frankly and it does not matter because it’s awesome)

• getting really into partner dancing and feeling myself improve with practice

• diving so deeply into a grief process that I felt actually reborn on the other side (and of course, it’s not really ever over, is it?).

Things I am looking forward to in the new year:

• PORTLAND: January 17-20. There for personal reasons (helping a friend post-surgery), but would love to escape my caretaking duties for a spell with you.

• NEW YORK: To be confirmed, but very likely happening in late April. Again, going for personal/other professional reasons but would love to squeeze some fun in.

• AUSTIN: A ways off, but definitely happening in the fall. Personal reasons, of course, because I guess this is a Travel Year (and by the way, Delta gift cards are always appreciated here) but we could go boot shopping. We could even kiss in the aisles of leather. Theoretically.

• experimenting more with ketamine therapies

• expanding my writing practice (more workshops? perhaps!)

Things I am enjoying right now:

• Casanova 20: or, Hot World by Davey Davis

• FEISTY by Fred again…

• embroidering gifts for family

• masturbating every morning. And evening.

• Heated Rivalry. See above.

• forgetting my phone exists while on dates

Things I would really appreciate from my subscribers if they’ve been enjoying my content at all this year, on this or any other platform or irl:

• Upgrade your subscription to a paid one!

• Send me a year-end gift

• Take me on a wishlist date

• Share this publication with your friends!

• Engage with my posts, notes, etc.

• Shoot me a testimonial email about our time together or what you like about my content so I can use it as promo and expand this audience (thus prompting me to dedicate more time to the platform and generate more content)

Alright. That’s enough for now. Catch you in the new year! Happy holidays to all and to all a good NIGHT or morning or whatever.

xo

I’m no stranger to this; I’ve been marketing on That Website for 5 years (going on 6) and it’s become habit. Routine. Like, I can’t find myself in a 5-star hotel and not take a selfie, at LEAST. And it’s exhausting. Trying to time and roll out posts, apologizing for whipping my phone out at dinner to take yet another photo of yet another dish — I want to be mysterious! I want to be present! I want you to trust that the carefully crafted website I’ve built (ahem, built and rebuilt and re-written about 6 times now, trying to hone in on exactly who I am and what I have to offer, which changes constantly because I CONTAIN MULTITUDES) will be enough to convey who I am as a person. Or at least, the person I am in this season of life.

Okay, so, what does this have to do with Chicago?

Basically, now that Twitter is truly lost to the AI slop and algorithm rubble, I feel inclined to share my photos and thoughts about my tours and trips on here, in long form, as God intended. I was never meant for short form! I’m a verbose woman with many thoughts and a hatred for concision (except in poetry, but that’s another story about my elitism that I’ll reserve for later). I want to experiment with sharing the wonderful times I’ve had with clients while also including my actual thoughts and feelings about my experiences. And, to be a little more mysterious, to reserve those thoughts and feelings for people who join me here on my preferred platform, instead of blasting it out into the ether of 30k+ followers where maybe 70 AI bots and 4 real people will see it. And most of all, I care about literacy in this country and I want to encourage boys to read <3

So without further ado, here’s how I felt in Chicago.

Day 1

I rise early for a 6AM flight. I have been rewarded for my extremely intelligent decision to read and go to bed early with a lack of fatigue and a go-getter attitude. I’ve pre-scheduled my Uber to the airport. I am a God.

The airport is chill, no lines in security, I use my Clear despite this because I need to get my money’s worth. I reject them taking my photo at the TSA boarding pass desk because I can (and you can, too!). I get an iced matcha latte and some snacks.

As I board my flight, the desk agent says I have to zip up the expansion on my suitcase, which is definitely not true and unnecessary, but I stop to do it anyway, placing my latte on a rail tucked behind the door of the gangway so I don’t accidentally kick it over while wrestling with my suitcase. On the floor. Like a peasant. I make a mental note to start searching for a service submissive who can pack for me and carry my lattes.

Once I’m in line halfway to the plane door, I realize I have left my $7 latte behind. The idea of asking the people I am in line with to mind my bag while I run back for it feels demeaning and cruel (running at 6am is simply not an option, not even 20 feet). I relinquish my expensive beverage to fate and try to look at the bright side, like how it’s easier to board and arrange my things without monitoring a cup. They should consider cup holders on flights [note: I’m pretty sure this exists in first class but this flight I’m slumming it in Main]. Note to self: get service submissive who is high up in plane design or whatever.

My bag definitely fits in the overhead compartment and would have even without zipping it up. I consider briefly unzipping the expansion out of spite, but resist the temptation. We sit on the tarmac for a while and then they tell us there are mechanical problems and we have to deplane. Okay, bummer, but guess what? My matcha is waiting for me right where I left it. All I do is win.

We re-board, only an hour delayed. I work on my novel on the flight and listen to podcasts. I consider becoming an early riser, because I am so productive.

Upon landing, I text my friend my ETA. We are going to have a short visit. They’ve been wheelchair bound from a broken leg for a month and I’m looking forward to curling up on their couch with them and their cat. Despite the extra logistical efforts that it takes to fly in a day early on tours, I much prefer this relaxed pace — no stress from a delayed flight because there’s nowhere urgent I have to be, no date to hurriedly prepare for, and no rush to beautify (obviously I look stunning and gorgeous on the 6AM flight but I appreciate more time to do things like brush my hair and smooth out the lines in my face from wearing a tight mask for 6 hours. Hot people wear masks on flights I don’t make the rules it’s just literally an objective fact).

I hang out with my friend. My client has generously booked a hotel for my stay and he is checking in to the hotel, bringing me the key, then going home. My past few tours have been really deliciously supported — on this one, all my hotel nights were covered by clients, and my flight was also covered by a client. It’s like a piecemeal sponsored tour, which feels like a really accessible and easy way to have clients participate in the planning (I can pick dates that favor their schedules without sacrificing my time or finances to more expensive flights, etc), and I have the freedom to see more people, as opposed to a FMTY (although I must say I *love* a FMTY because things get real goofy after a few days together).

My client that brings me the key is a darling, and it’s not lost on me that he is going way out of his way to bring me the key the day before our date even happens. He is rewarded with a hug from me, still a bit sweaty from the flight, and in sweatpants to boot. We have established the kind of intimacy that allows for this kind of vulnerability, where he can see me in this disheveled state.

Later, I make my way to the hotel. He has left my rate in the safe, chocolate bars and paper goods from my favorite paper company (Midori), and my favorite road trip chips on the coffee table. Good boy.

After a meandering walk to dinner, I eat and fall asleep.

Day 2

I sleep IN! The season is hitting me hard and I enjoy the extra rest. With Daylight Savings hitting, it’s hard to discern what time zone I’m in at this point, so I give up and just let my body tell me what to do.

Nicola arrives in the afternoon bearing coffee and treats. We munch and lounge, excited for our upcoming duo. I’ve brought Nicola in to join me with a sweetie who loves getting into all sorts of freaky stuff with me. Our past duos have all been successful, but I’m especially excited for this one because Nicola and I have Ideas and Visions and are decidedly evil together.

As expected, he shows up, cute as ever, and we do depraved things together. I will refrain from posting too many lurid details here except for this: Mommy had to show a good boy how to suck Daddy’s cock, and then we had to show him how Daddy fucks Mommy just right so he could learn the proper form. The cuddle puddle after was a blissed out moment for us all.

After, my client and I took a beautiful walk to dinner. I was a little shocked at how warm it was (literally the same temp as San Francisco), and the walk was pleasant and gave us a chance to admire the architecture and talk history.

Back at the hotel room, with just a bit of time to spare, we wound down with our usual conversations on our reflections of our time together, our wish for future engagements, and as a treat, I pulled his tarot with my new deck. I won’t divulge the interpretations or meanings but it was certainly a fun experience, and something I hope to do with more clients.

I passed out fucked and fed, my favorite state of being.

A few days later, once settled at home, I received a very sweet email, with an excerpt shared here with permission from said client:

Day 3

I awoke, checked out, ate breakfast in the hotel’s restaurant, and made my way to my next appointment. A shorter afternoon tryst with a newcomer, which was sweet and welcome. I love that I have so many familiar faces when I travel, but it’s always nice to meet new people, too.

I had a little bit of time after to work on my novel and eavesdrop in the lobby. I was caught between two groups of people: a small group that had brought their own bottle of vodka and in town for some sort of conference, and two women who worked in pharmaceuticals. Topics of military service came up, followed by the women in pharma profusely thanking the wife of a military man (in absentia) for her service, which I found confusing. A man in the group who was a former cop said all mass shootings started to feel the same, blur together. I took notes furiously and added them to my aforementioned poem.

After pounding out some writing, it was on to the next stop. I was meeting up with a client I’ve known for several years now, at a hotel he had booked for us for the night, and in which I would remain after he went home. I decided to walk from hotel to hotel because why not? It wasn’t that cold yet, the rain was light and pleasant, and the walk was easy and straight forward (not like back home in SF, where hills obstruct what should be simple walks).

I arrived in the hotel lobby and my client was, as is typical for him, running late. This is something I have grown accustomed to, and doesn’t bother me much; I know we will have a good time whenever he gets there, and he knows I reserve the right to poke fun at him if the moment so calls for it.

We dropped my things off in the suite, then rushed back out to our Uber to go to Roop, which was a huge hit. Despite his tardiness, he always picks a good restaurant (or rather, provides me a list of suitable options then lets me pick). Dinner and conversation was flowing too well for me to care to photograph anything except for the Gulab Jamun cheesecake which was…stunning.

Post dinner & coitus, we discuss, as if it is new, our need to see each other more often. We have this conversation every time we meet, but our diverse schedule and location commitments often pry us apart for 6 months at a time. I luxuriate in the look on his face when he remembers how I look from behind; it truly never gets old. After we part ways, I take my midnight bath, and promptly pass out. He sends me a tip later, and after I get home, enough money to sponsor a trip up to Harbin hot springs & a massage, which is exactly what I need after my strenuous travel.

Day 4

I’ve structured this trip so that I actually have time to see my friends, so now that work is done, it’s time for play. And by play I mean some solo decompression before my next plans begin.

But of course that means lazing around in a hotel robe, ordering room service, and going for a snowy walk until it’s a little too cold for me to tolerate it anymore.

I was having a somewhat emotionally challenging morning for reasons I won’t get into here, and the snow and the cold and the watching of weather, and light on glass buildings, was a good reprieve. I had extra late checkout at the room, courtesy of my client’s hotel status, and was happy to have a place to land and catch my breath before continuing on with my plans.

After letting snow and chill pummel my body for an hour, I ducked into Nordstrom’s to do my favorite hobby: peruse the shoe department. Sometimes I don’t even try anything on. I just like to look at pretty objects. Most of them are things I love but know I would never wear in real life; my day-to-day is often spent doing work from home at my other career, or interfacing with humans where heels would be inappropriate, or running errands on hills and buses that would scoff at me wearing anything other than sneakers (of course, my sneaker collection is a thing of itself). Sometimes I dream of a lifestyle where wearing stiletto boots and fluffy mules makes sense, but for now, it simply does not, and it’s enough to look (and something like this burgundy handmade Tabi is much more my speed when I’m not in sneakers Running Up That Hill).

I was tempted, however, to try the infamous Louboutin Cassia heels. These were going around on Twitter a few months ago (last year? Time has lost meaning for me) and alllllll the hot girls of mysterious income were lusting over them. I personally found them somewhat ugly in photos, or maybe it was just the part of me that is a bit of a balletomane, and felt the aesthetic unearned — though upon further reflection, the discomfort of Louboutins is surely somewhere near the discomfort of pointe shoes. I personally donned pointe shoes a few times in college as a beginner ballerina and found the experience so torturous that I could last but a scant 15 minutes before crying and rubbing my toes apologetically. Like, I’m so sorry, feet, I don’t know what I was thinking. Dancers have to have some sort of masochistic streak in them that I will try to dissect more in depth at a later date.

Upon trying them on, I decided they actually are not ugly and were more comfortable than other Loubs I’ve tried because the square toe box is actually a huge game changer, as the sales associate was busy explaining to me. They also looked sexy on me and I’ve begrudgingly accepted that yes, I would totally wear these, even if only twice a year. Likely to the ballet, like my other designer heels — not often shod, but for weddings, ballets, operas, and long dinners where sitting is the main activity and there’s a convenient lap under the tablecloth for me to put my feet on when nobody is looking.

After checking out, I met up with a friend and we wandered to a different neighborhood in search of a bookstore, a quiet place for a drink, and a photo booth with real film. We managed to find all 3, with a long stop in a weird, overly-lit boba shop that was playing pop and hip hop from the mid 2000s, until it gave us budding headaches. It’s very important while traveling to find a few liminal spaces like this to make sure your disorientation is complete.

From there, I jetted up to meet my angel, my Nice Mommy to my Evil Mommy, the one and only legendary Robyn for dinner. I don’t even know how to describe this woman except for W O M A N. She is a bombshell, a bright star, and a sweetheart all at the same time, somehow. The last time she was in SF we spent a few cozy nights together and a day at 6 Flags, and it’s always a treat to reunite for gossip and drinks.

Day 5

Sunday had so much snowfall that it was disrupting flights and plans all over the city. Luckily, I had decided to stay until Monday preemptively because I needed a transition period between work and play and going home. Despite my Mondays usually being full of other job stuff, I still maintain enough flexibility to change my schedule when needed, and it was definitely nice to stay a little longer and see my friends, meet some of their friends, and not get trapped by snow (Monday skies were clear and planes were ready for takeoff).

My arrival home was soft (and warm! Thanks California!), my cats were stoked I was back in my king size bed to keep them company, and I felt more relaxed than usual after a tour because I wasn’t rushing home as soon as I stopped working. It was the first proper tour I had done in ages, and it was perfect: low volume but lucrative, old faces and new, and plenty of time for trouble-for-fun between the trouble-for-work ;)

We can see now why the character limit on the other app would not be sufficient for my reflections. As it were, I’ll be off again on a sponsored vacation at the time of this newsletter’s publication, so thank you for the patience while awaiting this update and more to come soon.

xo

Simone

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This year started as a continuation of my troubles, but slowly improved as the winter season melted off and made way for spring. I encountered new lovers, new experiences, a new career (!!) and a newly forged sense of inner strength and resilience (blah blah blah). I also gained some weight directly to my tits and ass and guys, I gotta tell you, we are all loving it over here.

As the year progressed, things continue to improve, and now I have landed back at the holiday season, to my shock. Time has moved so quickly!!! Now I am due to write yet another gift guide? Anyway. Let’s review my principles on gift guides, for those that may be new here:

1. I favor handmade, locally sourced, ethically produced things when possible, and always include some ways to give back to the communities I’m part of / the world at large.

2. I hate traditional gift guides that cast men as creatures whose sole hobbies are golf and shaving, and women whose hobbies are candles and scarves (though this list favors the feminine and my own tastes. Sorry boys, men have the gift of getting to move safely through the world so maybe your present this year is the company of a beautiful woman).

3. I think it matters to try to hone the skill of gift-giving, rather than just buying something off a list, so the things listed below tend to be highly specific, curated for a type of person, and can be used as a jumping off point.

4. My job is literally to be hot, cool, and receive gifts, so I am a self-defined expert on what makes a good gift and why.

Here we go!

For the person who is worried about the impending apocalypse but can’t get their shit together, and you’re a little concerned they never will:

Uncharted Territory Survival Kit: $299

I’m being a little tongue in cheek but also not when I say that some of us are not going to build our own go bag, and some of us live in areas of high earthquake risk, and so some of us might find a premade kit very useful.

For the former ballerina who wants to continue torturing her feet outside the studio:

Louboutin Cassia Red Lace Up Heel: $1,095

Is it practical? No. Is it ethical? No. Is it locally made? No. But is it a necessary item? Also no. But as an escort who has never owned Louboutins, I would be remiss to not shoot my shot and say that I in particular look really good in these and should own them in a size 38/8. But also, many hot girls on Twitter that I follow also love these shoes, and they’re unique and sexy and would look good draped over your leg in a low lit restaurant. Candles, roses, velvet, and lipstick stains on your collar: all this could be yours for the low low price of a grand & her rate. Buying shoes for a woman can be a tough swing if you don’t know what kind she usually likes, but if you’re into gorgeous women who wear heels and have an edgy feminine side, it’s likely she’d appreciate these. And if not, include the gift receipt so she can get the kind she likes.

For the writer who is always complaining they don’t have time to write but it’s just because they’re wasting time on social media and/or the teenager who you’re trying to keep off AI for school assignments:

Type Folio for reMarkable 2: $199

Again, one that’s on my personal wishlist, but for good reason: I already have a reMarkable tablet, but no easy way to go out into the world and write without getting distracted by the all consuming Internet. I love to handwrite in notebooks for poetry and journaling, but for things like, oh I don’t know, say, trying to write a novel in a month, it would be genuinely game-changing to leave my house and have a way to type without being sucked into the dregs of the internet. I could also see this being a good gift for a teenager (though you’ll have to also invest in the tablet itself) whose parents want to encourage avoiding AI for school assignments; let them write without the Internet feeding them the answers!

For the person in your life still writing snail-mail and sending it by carrier pigeon:

Italian Stationary box set: $20

As someone who still loves to handwrite and values old fashioned correspondence, nice paper and matching stationary is always a hit. It’s thoughtful, it’s unique, it’s got a little bit of European flavor, and it’s the gift that gives back (imagine receiving a thank you note on this paper! Okay!!!)

Bonus: A wax seal storage box & custom wax seal stamp.

For the woman with unique jewelry taste who is tired of seeing the same designer brand names represented:

Tessa Metcalfe Pigeon Grasp Ring: $470

I am sorry but I am tired of Cartier love bracelets, Van Cleef & Arpels clovers, Tiffany chains, and Chanel earrings. I just can’t anymore. I find them all ugly. I’M SORRY!!! I just do. And if you’re like me and you spend a lot of your online time seeing these be referenced in escort posts, you will get sick of them, too. Luckily, there are other options out there! This ring is so funky, I think it’s a real charmer. I personally have the pigeon signet on my wishlist because I’m predictable but this one would be great for someone who likes her rings a little more shiny.

For the trans person in your life who just got surged up:

Recovery pillow system: $299

I don’t know about you, but it’s surgery season for the people in my life! Trans rights are under attack and lots of folks are running to get gender confirming care before they can’t (although we will never stop fighting to maintain those rights, let’s not forget!!) and having comfortable recovery pillows is a godsend. Often folks end up sharing these resources in community, so it’s the gift that keeps on giving. This full set allows for customization and easy loaning among friends.

For the people who have enough things but are always looking to explore their hobbies, based on my own experiences and the people I love:

1. Music lessons. I started re-teaching myself guitar this year and fun fact, it’s hard! I would love lessons again, and I’m sure the budding musician in your life would, too.

2. Bird identification classes. One of my best friends just completed a course like this and loved it. Plus she made new friends and now can ID a ton of birds based on sight and sound. Support folks engaging with nature mindfully, it’s a treat!

3. Pilates or dance classes. It’s all the rage and it is expensive! I’m personally more of a contemporary dance/partner dance girlie myself, but I know a lot of people have gotten obsessed with Pilates lately. Boys…go get your ass kicked, too! It’s harder than you’d think.

4. Improv classes. To be honest, I have considered doing this solely to improve my bedroom talk. But I bet you have a former (or current, honestly) theatre kid in your life who would love to jump around pretending they’re an animal every Saturday afternoon for 2 months.

5. Language courses. This is a big one! One of my goals for next year is to start learning ASL, but a brush up on my Russian wouldn’t hurt, either. Maybe someone you know wants to travel or just wants to stop being embarrassingly monolingual.

6. New sheets. Not a hobby, just so true that people don’t think about this kind of small luxury for themselves, but it is so appreciated. Parachute is a nice brand for leveling up someone’s boudoir.

7. Gift cards to film labs/stores. As an amateur film photographer myself, I never turn down film stock (Portra 400 as a fave), or credit for development because it’s so expensive! Development classes would also be a great gift for someone.

Ok now we must get to the part of the guide where we focus on our communities:

Sogorea Te Land Trust: “Sogorea Te’ Land Trust is an urban Indigenous women-led land trust based in the San Francisco Bay Area that facilitates the return of Indigenous land to Indigenous people.” Look into your own local land back projects if you are not Bay Area based, but feel free to contribute here as well!

Bay Area Worker Support: “We work for the health, safety, and livelihoods of people in the sex trade. In the face of criminalization, stigma, and inadequate resources, BAWS mobilizes. We harness our community power and build local partnerships to provide material resources, information, and support. We create space to increase strength, justice, and love for Bay Area workers.” Again, there may be local orgs closer to you.

Neighborhood cook/distro groups: This one may be trickier to link to or find, but more and more these days, many of us are getting involved in mutual aid. I personally gather with neighbors every week to cook and distribute home-cooked meals to our neighbors, some houseless, some just hungry. We don’t have an official page because we are not an org, we are just some neighbors! We get our ingredients donated, but we still have to buy containers, utensils, bottled water, hand warmers, socks, and other small useful goods. As the cold weather approaches, we also want to be able to offer hats, gloves, blankets, sleeping bags, rain ponchos, tents, etc. Donations help us supply these things. If you wish, you can send funds to me directly on CashApp with a note that says “distro,” and I will forward it along to the folks who steward our funds. I am happy to provide receipts for anyone who wants them!

Bridge of Solidarity (camo hats): This person has been ordering sick camo hats that say “End the Genocide” on them and donating all proceeds to Bridge of Solidarity, which supports people in Gaza. Of course, you can donate to BoS without buying a hat, but if you want a way to wear your stance in daily life, this is a good way to get to do both.

Free Kubanych: We are watching people get literally kidnapped by ICE in the streets all over this country right now, and the least we can do is donate to support the families being left behind as breadwinners are being disappeared. That said, we should also be hitting those streets, organizing collectively, and supporting our neighbors even when we aren’t under a direct fascist threat, which we very much are. This person is a Bay Area person whose family needs support, but there are surely others near you who have been impacted if you want to donate closer to home.

Alright, that’s enough for now. This wishlist erred a little more expensive and a little less local than prior years but guess what? I’m trying to find ways to enjoy my life while I still can, and I hope you and your loved ones can, too, while not forgetting to participate in community care. Being present and generous for mutual aid funds should not be limited to holiday season, but it is the time that people tend to give more, so hopefully these ideas can kickstart a reoccurring monthly donation, or at least point you on where to look for more similar funds in your area.

As always, if you’d like to gift something to me personally because I am cool and generous and sexy and fun, you can find that here. I am in particular fondness of the pigeon ring and the sweatpants and the hair dryer and the purse. Okay goodbye! Happy holidays!

Bonus fun fact I don’t celebrate Christmas or Chanukah, my family opens gifts on NYE, so you have extra time to shop for me :) I am also available for dates on and around Christmas for the same reason.

xo

Simone

This was a strange choice to make right before meeting up with a date to fist her ass, but as I told her, “my non-dominant hand doesn’t need dexterity to fist,” so it was fine. My left fist sucked into her with aplomb, nearly up to my elbow. I felt I could keep falling, into the void of her body. I could emerge a conqueror.

As I was planning this tattoo, I knew I wanted some trinkets to decorate my fingers, some abstract imagery to tie everything together. I also wanted two words:

AGONY // ECSTASY

I get a lot of reactions to the words on my hand, since they are stacked strangely and must be read top to bottom (a nod to ee cummings, among others). One friend said “does that say ‘Eat Tacos?’” Some people have commented that it’s “very dark.”

My mother said, “is that what life is like to you?”

I say yes. I say, it says whatever you want it to say. I say, there is no ecstasy without agony, right?

I love the whole tattoo, the way it works as one piece. But I find myself gravitating over and over to one specific part of it: the man under the red moon.

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I am letting a lot go right now, and inviting in a lot, too. I’m spiraling about my closet organization but I’m thriving with my other job & friendships. I’m addicted to partner dancing & I want dance shoes (size 8) to preserve my poor feet, but I need to get rid of more things first. I am burdened by Things. I want to write another novel next month, but I haven’t even begun to plot yet. Please, give me a prompt and maybe I’ll write your next favorite book.

Last year’s novel attempt was successful, though I’ve only revisited it once and the continuity errors give me the ick so I haven’t thought about editing it yet. I’m also in a poetry workshop right now which I signed up for my because my old poetry professor is teaching it and I had a crush on her ten years ago and her accent still makes me highly motivated to do my readings and assignments. Once, she was doing a book reading with an open mic and I shared a poem — after, she touched my shoulder and commented on how strong I was. I was a serious lifter back then, and I suddenly find myself re-motivated to get back to it this season. Oh, and I’m in another serious non-credited but highly academic class that happens every Sunday morning for a year, in case my nerd status was in question.

Every week I join my neighbors to cook and distribute food (you can donate toward that here and I will pass along any funds to buy socks, water bottles, dog treats, etc. Please leave a note that says “distro” so I know what’s for)! It’s the highlight of my week.

I am dancing a lot and noodling on the guitar and calling my friends and crying and raging against the system and dreaming new futures with my community. I am not leaving the demimonde but I am half out, wistful about a world where my aesthetics are not the arbiter of my worth. My ass looks amazing, though, for the record.

I miss my clients that live far away, or live close but have had Circumstances change. I miss having more time to meet new people and travel.

But speaking of travel, I will be making a quick visit to Chicago, Nov 6-10. Would love to duo with my love Robyn or hottie Nicola.

I am also tentatively (and rather hastily) considering a trip to NYC, Nov 14-16. Please, get in touch ASAP because I need to make a decision this week. If these dates don’t work for you but you’d like to propose another time, please still reach out — I can be swayed!

And if you want to motivate me to write, well, here’s my wishlist (you can sort by most wanted :)): I love treats.

Okay. More soon. Thanks for your patience. xo.

Simone

Despite August being jam-packed with more summer fun, I already have plans and hotels booked into October, so I can’t help but turn my thoughts to fall.

Specifically, to return to old haunts & explore new ones.

Anyone who’s been paying attention knows ATL is like a second home to me, and I’d love to make a pit-stop there before the year closes out, as my March trip was too brief to see everyone I wanted to.

I propose an autumnal getaway, a trip to somewhere more quiet and to me, quite foreign — upstate New York.

Despite growing up with family on the East Coast, I somehow never made it up north of the city, and rarely made it to the city itself, either. Now I crave a place with a more concrete season, red leaves & cold air & reasons to wrap myself in cashmere, flannel, silk.

Of course, I won’t turn down a trip to Harbin or the Yuba before the summer closes on Northern California, but I’d like to see the geese migrating and the horses shuffle their feet and the sky turn pink into winter.

So, here are my ideas for the Eastern seaboard, et al:

1. Hudson: A suite at the Maker, a distillery tour and dinner at the Klocke Estate, late morning coffee in bed, early afternoon walks, evening spa treatments... If we have time in NYC, I’d love to see something on Broadway.

2. DC: I haven’t returned in a long while, but I think it’s about time. I’ve never been to the Smithsonian if you can believe it, and I would love to be enlightened on the food culture as well. I wouldn’t turn my nose up at a cocktail, either…

3. ATL: What can I say? She’s my old stomping grounds, my home away from home. Can’t go wrong with Rumi’s Kitchen, Nadair, or cocktails at Kimball House.

I wouldn’t turn my nose up at Richmond, VA or other ideas on that coast. Let’s talk!

xo,

Simone

Since the end of last year, I promised myself I would re-write my copy, find a new way to explain what exactly it was that I wanted to offer to people, this iteration of self. I’ve always hesitated when it comes to things like “rebranding.” I don’t want to change my name, or my aesthetic. I’m not a different person. I’m just growing into this version of Simone, who is still the bright, sunny youth that started out, with a bit of edge acquired over the years. A bit of tang and brine and smoke. She’s evolving with me. I hold her hand and we walk into the cold water.

There were so many things I wanted to say, to tell, to over enunciate the point. Instead, I fell back into my truest form, sluicing into poetry and verve and breathlessness; the point is I no longer can be anything but what I am: animal, shadow, holy.

So. The new “bio.” The new introduction, already live on my site, presented here, as an offering, like tea sandwiches — eat me whole, and lick your fingers clean.

In a world of ephemeral pleasures, I aim for things that last

like the dripping stems of your favorite red, the stain of ink on my fingers long after I’ve sealed the letter, the familiarity of a lover I’ve taken again and again — these moments linger on my skin, in my memory, which fades but never dissolves; the grain of film photos printed on thick paper, framed in vintage brass, oh, I want to keep you for as long as I can and not a second more,

or,

I wanna live forever till I die.

I hunger for some kind of permanence. But this world challenges me, to connect deeply and intimately, even more so because we know the goodbye is necessary. If our time be an enso, then know this: that parted lip is the gift of opportunity, a space for us to withdraw and return again, the beauty of our impermanence.

I’m an eternal student. Of lush encounters, pleasure, play. I want to practice as much as I can, getting my hands and feet dirty in the grass, letting my hair lighten in the sun while I float in the river, fool’s gold cascading through my fingers — a fool I am, for what greater pleasure is there than a beginner’s mind? I was put here to be curious, about you and your nature, about us, what language we make when we come together, what begins in-between stolen glances over dinner. I’m an expert in yearning. A soft body craving other soft bodies. A dark pool of longing in my eyes, when I ask you where we’re going next.

You’ve booked a flight for us, you ache to leave me breathless, I am never subtle in my flirtations, we find something novel, somehow, despite our repeated meetings, somehow, more filthy & fabulous every time, the opposite of boring, something catches on our tongue, some unspeakable depravity we created together, and promised to keep to ourselves.

Despite my waxing poetic, I don’t take myself too seriously. I want to laugh together more than I want to debate, though I’ll accept friendly fire met with apologetic kisses. I’m soft at heart, wrapped in a curvy little package that many find hard to approach — don’t worry, I only bite upon request. Truthfully, I like to coax people out of their shells, out of their minds and into their hearts — I want to touch you there, where you really begin, down to the anima.

I like decadent meals and multiple desserts, conversations over slow jazz and the city’s hum beneath us, deep bathtubs and marble showers, a pillowed chaise longue by a salt-water pool, soft leather coats & silk dresses, first edition books and Italian stationary, antique furniture, cowboy boots, big hands, neck nibbles, the first time waking up next to you.

Maybe it can’t last forever. But at least we have tonight.

Come find me across the great blue of distance.

xo,

Simone

when i got up to go to the bathroom, a handsome young man slid by me, putting a hand on my shoulder and locking eyes with me. i didn’t expect any connections at a predominantly gay male bar, but something in his eyes told me there was an opening, even though he was only speaking to other gay men.

later, standing at the table of the crowded patio with my friends, i spotted the cute guy talking to someone — the group he was in was near us, part of the larger constellation of our table of mid-day drunk gay men and i knew someone had to know his deal. and if not, someone could introduce me.

i leaned in to my friend and said "i want to destroy that twink in the taupe sweater."

i maybe should mention at this point that one of the things i was seeking was a gay-ish young man, someone who would experiment with me, or at least do as i say with some eagerness. i didn’t actually expect a gay man to be interested in me, but then again, gender has gotten weird enough in the circles i operate in, in such a way that sexuality has also started bending along different rules. whatever it is, it wouldn’t be “straight.”

my friend looked over and said “oh him? he's straight! or mostly. i think.” the lack of clarity was perfect.

someone else leaned in.

"it's his 23rd birthday today."

could it be more perfect?

my friend concocted a plan to introduce us, and soon i was wrapped in "conversation" with the young man. unfortunately he was too drunk to be very interesting, and carried a sadness i felt empathetic toward, but that rendered connection difficult. he was reserved, nervous, unsteady.

i lit all his cigarettes. i pressed my knee against his. i looked him in the eye. i told him to tell me what he wanted, over and over. i made him repeat my name when he forgot it. when he finally kissed me, i bit his lips, i bit his neck. he begged me to come home with him but with a sly smile i said no, text me. i can't have sex with someone that wasted and i wanted him to remember it. plus, i wanted to enjoy myself, and an impressionable young man is no use to me if he can't take direction.

up until this point, the idea of dating or even hooking up with someone under 25 has felt borderline illegal, an age gap of maturity i couldn’t get into, even if in a role play scenario it was enticing. something about actually turning 30, though, has shifted things. suddenly surges of power shoot through my body at random, little jolts of raw wire being zapped, whispering with a devilish smile curling at the lip, to use it, to cast a spell, to see what could be done with my newfound age.

apparently, as i was casting my spell on this young man, i had an audience. later, my friend told me that they, along with their gay male friend J, had been watching and so aroused that they joked they had to share a cigarette after to cool down. J and I had locked eyes at some point in the evening and he mouthed to me, “I’m getting hot and heavy watching this.”

it had been a long time since i turned my charm up that high, squeezing someone’s thigh subtly under the table as i gazed intensely into their eyes, unwavering, smiling and teasing until they surrendered. usually i expect to be met halfway, but i knew this boy was too drunk to do it and i knew i looked particularly scary. i probably wouldn’t have approached me, either.

the fact that people were watching made it hotter. the boy raised his eyebrow at me. when he kissed me, he was gentle. his arm found my waist.

i had to go home and masturbate over thoughts of taking his virginity.

can’t wait to see what else 30 brings. kicking off this birthday week with a bang, and hopefully a consummated bang at some point. time will tell.

if you feel inclined, i am still accepting gifts & tips to celebrate. send me something and i’ll allow you to share a fantasy with me. xo!

slowly, the sun is coming back. my acupuncturist said i am “pathologically deficient” in vitamin d according to my latest labs so this is a good sign.

i have been trying to wrap my head around how to talk about grief. sometimes it takes up the whole day. drowning in a windy sea. other days everything is okay and then i am pummeled by a wave, a rip tide carrying me out to the middle of nowhere, i am surrounded by salt, i am bobbing with my head above the surface but only just. and there’s water in my nose. the horizon seems impossibly far away. blue, blue, blue.

when i touch your skin i feel myself

i turn thirty soon. i have been waiting for this day for years, so eager to shirk my youth in favor of some wisdom yet unknown, some indicator that i will understand myself and the world better. as the day creeps closer, i can’t help but feel i wasted so much time in my twenties, and my teens, and my pre-teens, always waiting to get to the good part, “real adulthood.” now i look ahead and realize i am only ever going to get older, so why the rush? the last few months of my twenties brought that inscrutable wisdom i had been seeking; it hurts, and i’m grateful despite the heaving wreckage it has brought upon my body and spirit.

i am emerging.

i have been a witness and a companion to others’ grief for a long time, and while i have experienced it before, brutally and deeply, this time it is somehow new, different. a fresh wound. i am collecting all my blood and drinking it back up.

when i wake up next to you i am dissolving

i have yet to figure out what comes next for me, except that i find myself slowly departing from the realm of SW, no longer able or willing to keep up with the demands of marketing, social media, administrative maintenance. i like my comfortable, existing, honest relationships. i am pouring time into new friendships in my personal life, new hobbies (tennis) (yoga), and establishing a new business. every day i feel surges of gratitude and sorrow and flavors of emotions i can’t yet name.

i want to reveal more of myself here but i struggle to walk the line — there are certain things i want to remain just for me, privacy, control, separation. i want to be a human having human experiences in this work but feel constricted by performance, sexism, capitalism, desirability. why can’t we just be real together? my longing for this is starting to outweigh my desire for success. it would be easier to accommodate, repress, cast a wide net, be a yes girl, integrate that i have to sacrifice pieces of myself to be palatable to the majority of men. but i am tired. and i know men who do not ask this of me. and i am curious about them. about you? maybe we can meet on another plane of consciousness and shed whatever preconceptions we have about each other. maybe not. maybe this will become a platform where i stop worrying about “how it sounds to a client” and just write whatever is meaningful to me. can you imagine? i am trying here. do you feel it?

i love you to the last drop

i’ve started a daily gratitude practice. i wake up, i take my numerous supplements, i thank my cats for loving me, i meditate, i journal, i check my emails. i try not to think so much. i read half a book then start a new one. i watch a lot of tv before bed, i like falling asleep to voices. otherwise the ones in my head are too loud. i open twitter, i close it immediately. i haven’t had any refined sugar since february. i will eat cake for my birthday.

i keep you with me

for my birthday, i am taking myself on a friend tour. no work, no social media, no striving. sitting by the pool with a cocktail, going out to dinner, getting a tattoo, hugging my loved ones.

all i want for my birthday is the funds to relax and enjoy myself so i can feel guilt-free about treating myself. it has been a hard winter. i am hoping the spring brings new growth.

if you are moved to do so, i will gratefully accept contributions to the party on CA ($succubuns).

here’s a poem i wrote a few years ago that a friend turned into a song:

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December brought the winds of change in a major way: I graduated from my master’s program, a little under 2.5 years since starting. In 2020, I embarked on a cross-country road trip with no real plan. In 2022 I uprooted my life yet again to move to the Bay Area to begin school. And to close out 2024, I ended that era. Once again, I find myself on the precipice of something.

As if graduating weren’t enough change, I was dealing with some personal life stuff that caused the biggest downslide in my mental health since 2020. Don’t worry, I survived, by the skin of my teeth, and only just. Actually, I want to revise that statement: on the other side of it, I see how necessary it was, how much needed to be let go, how much needed to be integrated. In many ways, it could not have come at a better time. Without school on my shoulders, and a long break ahead of me, I was allowed to absolutely unravel, to decompensate, to become a baby again, naked and crying and vomiting and revealing vulnerabilities to the world like a present nobody asked for. Merry Christmas, I’m unwell!

Going through change like that felt like spiritual crisis, I felt myself sink to the bottom of my bottom. And now, I rise again, a little slower, a little more careful, and still trying to re-regulate my body temperature (it turns out when you can’t really eat for a couple weeks, you get very cold, and you remain very cold).

Then, January came like an anvil. School is behind me, but my anniversary in this industry came and went suddenly, something I’m usually diligent about tracking. I think this year it felt less important given everything else that was going on, but also, my relationship to this work keeps changing, drastically.

[Forgive how all over the place this is, it just has to happen this way]

As my industry time grows, so do my ambitions in other arenas. I have to start focusing on building a second business, but I’m not ready to let this one go — but where my starting point was financial, my continuing point is more about fun and exploration. As I build a second career, I don’t need the income from this as much anymore. And it’s exciting to let go of what doesn’t serve and accept only what does: people I adore, time that meanders, s l o w i n g it all d o w n. I can’t remember the last time I had a date under 4 hours. I love it. I’ve seen an influx of long dates with people I genuinely enjoy spending time with. I don’t want to give that up! I want to keep knowing them, and them to know me, deeper, better. It’s a change of pace and of expectations, and I feel grateful.

AND. I’m turning 30 this year! Which feels crazy.

[in case you’re tracking, that’s 3 different occasions to buy presents for. or just come see me. or just send me [redacted] amount to pay off my loans teehee <3]

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My first recommendation, though, is make something yourself. Learn some basic embroidery and embroider some words or designs on a tea towel or tank top for your crafty friend. Design and build an altar from a thrifted box for a spiritual baddie. Make a cyanotype of your animal-loving friend’s cat’s portrait. Get creative! Make some paper and bind a book! The options are literally endless.

If crafting isn’t your thing, fine. Here are some objects:

For the woman in your life who has to have jewelry nobody else has and yawns at traditional designer labels:

Both Grainne Morton and Morgaine Faye make incredible, unique pieces, with the former based in Scotland, and the latter based in the Bay Area. At two different price points, you can decide what your budget can accommodate this year. These two pieces are ones I wouldn’t mind adding to my collection, but if your lady is of a different taste, I highly recommend perusing the site and comparing the items with what you’ve already seen her wear to hone in the precise style.

For the esoteric sexy witch who loves philosophy, psychology, metaphysics, the abject and the profane:

I’ve been talking about this Erotic Oracle tarot deck Kickstarter for weeks and I’m dying to see it funded; they are so close with only days left in the campaign. Getting just the deck is $55, but higher tiers include a booklet and other fun items. This Tarot deck is unique in its art, themes, and deep interpretations. You literally won’t be able to find anything else like it, so you can be sure the gift receiver will love it.

For the friend who likes things bougie but natural, elegant and simple, organic and tasteful:

It’s no secret that I’d love a shopping trip to The Perish Trust, and it’s obvious why: the taste and eclectic supply is stunning to look at and filled with a feeling of serene beauty. It’s giving bougie California mom who dresses her kids in only taupe, but you know what? I am prey for this branding and I love to stop in and window shop when I can. Among their collection are beautiful art and nature books, incense and tarot decks, jewelry and blankets, kitchenware and unique spice blends, dipped taper candles. I could go on, but I’ll leave you with different but equally beautiful options: a lovely ceramic cake stand/general use pedestal, and a California-based body oil. I recommend going in-person to peruse the entire collection.

For the adventurous spirit in your life (especially the one who may have been a mermaid in a past life):

This is just the start of a multi-part, very involved learning process, but sponsoring a PADI certification is an incredibly thoughtful and generous gift. The actual total investment would probably come in close to ~1500, but you have to start somewhere, right?

For the person who needs therapy:

Therapy! Turns out this is expensive. You think I’m joking, but watch your loved ones light up when you offer to foot the bill for a year’s worth of therapy. It’s the gift that gives back! Here in the Bay Area, the average session is $200. Set aside $600-800 a month for this sponsorship and see the changes it brings to their and your life.

For the sweet sadist:

A whip is one of the most painful tools a sadist can use, according to some. Perhaps the sadist in your life is due for one to break in, and what better place to find one than the legendary Mr.S Leather? Bonus: This is on my personal wishlist this year, which you can find below.

For the girl who has everything:

And probably just wants to give back, give in her name. Give for the hope of a better world:

Sogorea Te Land Trust: “Sogorea Te’ Land Trust is an urban Indigenous women-led land trust based in the San Francisco Bay Area that facilitates the return of Indigenous land to Indigenous people.” Look into your own local land back projects if you are not Bay Area based, but feel free to contribute here as well!

Bay Area Worker Support: “We work for the health, safety, and livelihoods of people in the sex trade. In the face of criminalization, stigma, and inadequate resources, BAWS mobilizes. We harness our community power and build local partnerships to provide material resources, information, and support. We create space to increase strength, justice, and love for Bay Area workers.” Again, there may be local orgs closer to you. Whose Corner is it Anyway in Massachusetts is so close to their fundraising goal!!

Palestine Children’s Relief Fund: “Palestine Children's Relief Fund (PCRF), founded in 1991 by concerned humanitarians in the USA, provides free medical care to thousands of injured and ill children yearly who lack local access to care within the local health care system.” There are probably a million smaller orgs and mutual aid projects you can find to give to in order to support Palestinian liberation and safety, but PCRF is a good starting place.

~

Anyway, the world is on fire but I hope these options got your gears turning and sparked some inspiration. As always, my wishlist can be found here and here, but what I’d like most this year is flight sponsorships to celebrate both the holidays and my impending GRADUATION (!! Can you even believe???) and grad school loan payments (10k at a time would be swell but…we do what we can).

Till next time <3

But it has. This past year in particular has meant I am still doing school while also juggling an internship that absorbs about 20 hours a week. My days are stacked from morning to evening, with hardly enough time to respond to texts, let alone post online.

I keep trying and failing to keep up with Twitter, to understand the algorithm, as it has been my most reliable advertising method for the past four years. But it feels like a losing game. A game where I constantly have to present my life as content, risking my anonymity, and thus my safety, in an increasing state of surveillance. All that in the hopes that one person might find me interesting enough to, what, book me? I barely even have the time to work, so why am I so interested in converting likes into bookings?

The honest truth is that I work less than I ever have, and it’s scary. But my schedule simply won’t allow it — I can’t squeeze in the quick hour someone wants, I can’t hop on a 3-4 day tour without massively impacting my responsibilities at home. I can’t even go on the FMTY I was invited to because it interfered with a mandatory training.

On the flip side, when I work, it’s the most satisfying kind I’ve had thus far, and it’s almost these long, languishing dates where we have time to unravel together. I have meaningful, long-term relationships with people who are genuinely kind, generous, and gracious with my schedule insanity. I feel like they really know me, in a different way than most clients can or wish to. Their ability to know me is not because I let down my boundaries or they buy me enough objects until I determine my vulnerability has been bought. It is a subtle difference in the core way they show up: respectful, honest (with themselves as much as with me), and they honor the boundaries we do have. In these settings, I have let myself relax, unwind. I talk openly about my life. I share real feelings, sad ones and happy ones. They share theirs, too. We do little therapy sessions on each other. We laugh, we snuggle, we eat, we share knowing looks.

We don’t talk outside the established boundaries of the relationship. We make efforts to see each other, sometimes we move schedule-mountains to make it work. We experiment together! We learn what we like about power, sensation, touching, not touching.

It has been a gentle reminder from the universe that my attention and efforts are simply somewhere else right now. I don’t have the time to try to be the top-earning whore on the block. I don’t care to, either. My greatest wish for myself is to live a happy-enough life. Contentment, ease, hard work, good relationships, solid community. Solidarity with those that can’t find that. Gratitude for all the ways I have been blessed in this lifetime.

If this is you, too — more interested in deep, slow pleasure than limitless hedonism, more interested in what gets built, block by sacred block, over time and with patience — then we may be a good fit. And perhaps the fates will align to make room in my calendar for that kind of person.

I know I will come back to posting here more regularly soon, as I sense my time with Twitter is coming to a close. Stick with me. Send thoughts and prayers for my last semester (and gifts, if that’s your thing). I’ll see you soon <3

Here’s a few photos to highlight what I’ve been up to…

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I’m sitting at my desk overlooking people walking dogs, the sun streaming through curtains, filtering heat over my tired, thirsty houseplants. I tell myself I will water them today. Out of laziness and a stubborn resistance to spend money on certain things, I don’t have water pans, so I have to haul each giant pot to the bathtub each time I want to water them. The cost of obstinance.

Being on a higher floor of my building, my windows look out into the tree line, not quite above it but closer to top than bottom. Sometimes it feels like I’m a bird perched up in a hidden nest. The wind moves through the boughs and it feels like everything is breathing all together. This effect is amplified when on mushrooms, but can still be noticed without them (especially if the viewer has previously done enough mushrooms to tap into that collective breath on a whim).

Summer in the city is different than it used to be. Hotter. I can’t say I’m upset about it. It feels like I finally get to experience seasons in this place. I am struggling to marry the fact that my own life is at its peak, and the world feels decaying and collapsing around me. I question my own dissociation. I question if I am allowed to be happy in the face of disaster. Genocide, climate change, housing crisis, inflation, electoral politics, human rights under attack. In the heart of the the neoliberalism machine, I am safe, or at least, safe enough, for now. Fear strikes me when I think about how much money I can or can’t save, what life will be like after I graduate, how long I can stretch my finances when I don’t have time to work and won’t get paid for what I’m in school for until I graduate. The finish line feels so close, and brings opportunity and risk.

Summer in the city is both fast and slow. Weeks are rushing by me. I’ve been thinking about August since June. It felt over before it began. I’m planning things for September, December, and the gaps in between get filled somehow. My commitments balloon every week. I take more on. I lose time for this work. My creativity for writing feels zapped, yet my creativity in my field of study is explosive. I suppose you can’t fire on all channels at all times. I wonder when I will write a poem again.

I desperately want a new couch that is easier to clean of cat hair and is the right size and pulls out into a sleeper sofa. I finally found the perfect one and it’s $1,500. I open and close the tab regularly. I toggle between that and my increasing student loan statement. Most of my furniture is thrifted, which I prefer. Sometimes the constraints that city living puts on you requires buying new. I try to increase my tolerance distress for cat hair and cat scratches on my $200 couch.

I desperately want more tattoos, free time, access to a cool body of water to swim in on a regular basis. I convince myself that if I had a pet pigeon, I would finally be satisfied with my life. I fret about affording office rental space that I will need after I graduate.

Outside of the wanting is so much pleasure with what already is.

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I would love some feedback on which posts you like best, what you’d like to see more of, what sparks your fire. I have ideas, but I’m interested in my readership and your ideas, too.

Aside from this little hello, I wanted to make you all aware that I am being summoned down to San Diego in September (I know, a long ways off) and would be very willing to come to town a bit early if someone wanted to spend time together.

I’d like to buy flights soon, and it’s a rare opportunity to see me in a city I normally don’t travel to, and likely won’t return to again without specific summons. Without pre-booking in advance, it’ll be much harder to see me if you decide you want to later — and will likely incur flight change fees, etc.

San Diego potential dates: September 27-28.

I already have the sweetest little hotel booked, and can extend a night with the right invitation. We could lounge by the pool, take a sunset walk on the beach, and soak in the last of the summer sun.

Hope to hear from you soon!

xo

In all honesty, keeping up with a weekly newsletter is a lot more work when you’re juggling a life, actual work, school, and an internship. Don’t even get me started on Twitter. Despite the effort, it feels worth it to be able to share long-form thoughts and ideas with you all.

I’ve been very grateful for those of you who have opted to support this project monetarily. It does not go unnoticed, and helps me stay engaged and excited about this form of connection.

What I really want to write about today is devotion.

Someone recently described to me that the way they think about their submission is less about the person they’re submitting to – it’s not about “I live to serve Simone, the human,” but rather, “I live to serve the expression of life that moves through the body of Simone.” Static worship of a human being and their ego is fine, but what does it all mean? It means mustering some sort of deification or even objectification of the Other in order to find submission.

What if instead, you are surrendering to a force more powerful than something my simple personality can hold? What if I am just a medium for energy to express itself, and that is the thing worth worship?

Lately I’ve been thinking about our inherent Godliness. The holiness of a body.

I bend you over. I take a handful of skin in my fist. You are not responding to my hand when you cry out, you are not responding to the Me of my thigh pressing into your leg; you are responding to spirit that is telling you to let go, spirit that is inviting your surrender, spirit that is asking you to release expectations and allow for something new to emerge.

I don’t want to convince you that I am somehow more worthy of your submission than any other person out there. There is not something inherent about my personality, looks, or talents that make me “better” than the next. In fact, I don’t want to convince anyone of anything. I want simply to be seen — seen as a portal, seen as a figure of aliveness, seen as a possibility. Seen as an opportunity to channel an experience.

There is something you are seeking in submission. Maybe you tell yourself it’s just the pleasure of pain, or the pleasure of earning your keep. I suspect it’s more than that. I suspect you want to let go in the ways you are not permitted in day-to-day adulthood. I suspect you want to know what it’s like when you can let go of the reigns and know you’re still safe. I suspect you can’t remember the last time you actually let someone else in the driver’s seat.

Maybe you’re processing something, something that is too embarrassing to name. Something that is hidden so deep down you don’t know what it is yet.

I want to reach inside and find it. I want to touch the Godliness inside you. All I ask for is your devotion. Not to me, but to what we can imagine together.

Give it all you’ve got. Then give a little more.

Signs of Devotion

Tokens of Appreciation