I’ve spent time as a heterosexual and a queer, as a polyamorist and a married person and a celibate, as a woman and as something beyond gender. I’m a parent and a writer and a teacher about kinds of weird sex and relationships you might not even be able to imagine. And as I’ve moved in and through all these identities and more, the one thing that hasn’t changed is that I keep on getting older. 

Some of the ways in which aging affects me are the same as anybody else’s (a wrinkle is a wrinkle is a wrinkle). But having walked purposefully into a scene designed to end with me sobbing and incoherent and outside my own skin changes the way I feel about age. Imagining my own deathbed, and the lovers and ex-lovers and friends and family I hope will hold me and surround me as I move on, changes the way I feel about age. Planning the removal of my breasts – not because I’m sick and not because I’m nonbinary, but simply because I’m bored with them and want them gone – changes how I feel about age, too. 

Notes of an Aging Pervert is dedicated to anyone who’s stuck in the current of time, but swimming upstream against any or all of the other currents that tug us off-course.

As the book comes together, I’ll be posting tasty snippets of text here, along with the occasional illustration – to whet your appetite for the release of Notes of an Aging Pervert in Fall 2023. Enjoy!

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