a smorgasbord
TW: self indulgence, minge chronicles, & existentialism
what follows is a smorgasbord; indicative of a frantic mind, perfectionism, and a desire to break patterns. a collection of ramblings, lists, and reflections on my life, the world, and media that moved me in previous months. enjoy as you see fit, out of order or not at all.
it’s been difficult to write, wanting to prove something when it should be 99% for me and my inner peace. there’s too many and no ideas, they bleed into one or appear disconnected. in may, i wanted to build a constructed research piece about the unethical practices of temple university1, and what higher education becomes when public systems disintegrate. beyond that, the city of philadelphia is in shambles. in march, i had really good sex for the first time, processing the whirlwind through writing- i turn sheepish rereading the document. it was exhilarating to vanquish something i’ve held onto for so long. time slipped by. self doubt continues to creep in like gregor in his room. i want to impress myself just as much as i want to impress everyone else.
how can i turn enraging headlines on a feed into something meaningful? to practice creative intentionality? now it’s summertime, which allows me to romanticize my anxieties and take focused action. maybe my writing doesn’t need to make sense right now, it’s catharsis. vomit the truth and it will turn into something bigger and better.
Order of Operations
On sex
Famesick reflections
America turns 250 years old
The Invite review
On sex March - April, 2026
things happened to me last night that have never happened- my most satisfying sexual experience yet! i was a literal mess, left drooling and sniffling and moaning. thank god he smoked me up so i could get out of my head. it was fascinating to feel so intensely the happy chemicals following said intimacy. i was like a melted ball of giggles, sore and in a haze. he was respectful, sexy, and i had a nice time. he said likewise, claiming the tightness of my pussy felt great. who knew a lack of head hair could be so hot. i liked how i wasn’t in charge, telling him i jerked off to his profile beforehand. subtle touches, deep breathing, more lube please! afterwards, when he told me how good it felt to be inside me, i requested he use descriptive words to illustrate why. treat intimacy like it’s an ethnological study.
i slept with him last night for the third time. he didn’t cum, smiling at my perplexity. i have myths to unlearn. he came this morning when i went back to his place. i woke up questioning my sexual adequacy from the previous night’s escapades, only to receive a text asking when he could have me again. i like being a tease. my inner thigh aches, sensitive to the touch. i fought the impulse to steal his t-shirt, if he was in his twenties i doubt he’d notice. so i didn’t but still want to. he likes watching me squirm around his cock. when he’s fucking me i like looking up at him watching me, he licks the outline of his lips over and over. that may be one of my favorite parts. i like making him feel good. my underwear was soaked all day, like the weight of him was still on me. i’m silly in bed, asking questions and making jokes. he likes being in control and champions the so-called sexual journey i’m on. i wonder when he’ll tire of playing with me.
i told him i wanted to masturbate to the register of his voice. he laughed and grabbed my hand, leading me onto his bed for more. i need to do a boundary check with him. after we had sex i wrote down points of reference in the notes app as he sat beside me.
my body gives out: jelly limbs, droopy eyes, roll the neck. i stretch after the first round where i went from really tight- a pinching sensation at the forefront, to squirming uncontrollably around him. strong arms to hold me down, i try to focus my breathing. i do kegels during the act, he places a pillow down for my knees. i said how can you not have condoms?
i replay scenes from last night’s escapades. collapse into his 1991 white car, the bass is splayed down at an angle. a gaggle of teens roam the intersection like ghosts looking for chaos. we go upstairs. all parts of me were already fried. he wants me to touch him. we’ve had sex numerous times yet i’m insecure in my competency to be a sex god minx. i take in the task at hand, concentrating on focused breaths as his cock resides in my mouth. he likes when i choke on it- i don’t, i get nervous. my thighs routinely give out; the desire, post pilates soreness, and heat exhaustion producing a cocktail of whimpers. it took some time to find a comfortable position, i cry during sex.
he picked me up at 1am, dropped me off by 2:30, but i was wired until 4. i’m all giddy thinking about my time with him yesterday. to smell him, be crushed by strong arms. he’s kind, and funny. i liked just talking to him beforehand, toeing the line of oversharing about other adventures. if he did that i would be pissed and sad. he said he hasn’t been swiping as much since we matched what- like two months ago? si. it was fun and silly; the rain pattering, smoking, sharing a shower and getting under the blankets to fuck.
he softy rubs my head. let my body go. did you cum? yes. smell him on me after. i withhold texting him hours later, wanting more. to lounge around and be cherished2.
Famesick Reflections
i offer a quote from each chapter in famesick; my copy brims with copious underlines, small hearts, or tinted chapstick stains. maybe i felt seen by them or empathized with the author, she’s a beautiful writer. i started the book in mid april, intentionally absorbing the years lived. the tears shed, pain endured, and fluctuating catharsis. i couldn’t put it down- other times i needed a rest from the sordid medical tribulations dunham endures. it frequently became a component of small talk as i carted the pretty hardcover around the city or to work. questions from people who know the name, some listening to the audiobook narrated by the famed figure or oblivious strangers asking for a blurb. skeptical eyes determining it’s worth. at the end of the day, i am grateful for her candor. in the spirit of completion, a quote i underlined from each chapter.
America Turns 250
in the months preparing to graduate, everyone asked what’s next. my repetitive answer was soaked in cynicism, poking fun at the concept of a career as grocery costs and temperatures break records; wretched kidnappings on the street continue while zionism rears its ugly head. the echo chamber trills like cicadas, it can become a piercing noise at any moment- be careful. a lack of career driven ambition guilts me. i don’t feel capable of looking ten years ahead. instead, i’d turn attention to the imminent 250 semiquincentennial. the townie inside me stirs with impatience, refusing to separate international soccer from broader contexts. the PPA pours money into renovations for incoming tourism.
i drag my ass across the city to develop film photos while the air quality is deemed dangerous. i have ignorantly accepted whatever the unbalanced environment will do to my health. wildfires from afar that haven’t reached my timeline- yet- are the source of the haze that’s clouding the buildings. beads of sweat roll down my back. i’m waiting for the transfer train. go to the movies alone.
i let my sarcasm fly, seeing who sticks onto it. all these old men piss me off with their lingering eyes, mouths agape in idiocy with screeching horns. concentrate on the road you dumb fuck. reorient that slimy grin, i’m not biting on your limp fish hook. the buses are on detour routes. the smell of the water fountain on the hot cement perfectly encapsulates summer.
The Invite thoughts
a thrilling time! i originally went in with low expectations- why so many flicks with swingers and the same font these days? (the invite, the drama, challengers, materialists). but was immediately floored by the style and captivated. a layered piece about love and what relationships can be. so much attention was paid here i can tell, wilde does great things and let’s loose. definitely felt her affection for the medium with each shot, the blocking almost felt nostalgic i fucking loved it. no such thing as a throwaway line. score so good.
it was a super small audience so i really let myself absorb it and enjoy the rollercoaster. i was cackling like a madman and then penelope cruz would drop a banger like, “sex isn’t a thing you do, it’s a place you go.” on my second viewing the following day, in the evening with a friend, the packed audience buzzed. it was satisfying to hear what pleased or shocked them.
knowing they do not in fact have a four/ any way makes it even better, basically edging you the whole film (will it happen?) as we watch two people come to a boiling point in their marriage via the cool hot upstairs neighbors. ed norton says he finds pleasure in the forced clarity of communication and i thought that was interesting. i noticed how wilde uses mirrors to create more dimension or unease in a scene.
fin
basically…
He would eventually tire of me.