The Fracture: May 2025
Somatic sexology, chocolate hummus, my burlesque name... all featured in my 100th post
Happy 100th post to me, to you, to the Substack universe! I didn’t realize I arrived at this feat until I came to draft this post on Wednesday and saw I already had 99 published posts. (That can’t be right.)
What should we do? How do we celebrate? Discount on paid subscriptions?
Yeah, this isn’t that kind of Substack. I’m not a journalist or expert. I don’t offer PDFs of listicles or retreats at faraway locales.
This is my one normal, extraordinary life, breaking free from the molds of organized religion, evangelicalism, body insecurity, and sexual repression. Nah, I don’t offer discounts.
I could just keep writing which is a great feat in itself because I literally want to shut this whole thing down like every other week.1
Shall we continue on with what caused me to pause this past month and other fun news? Ways I motivate you, make you laugh, and lovingly miff you? Let’s!
The articles
Forever, a modern adaptation of Judy Blume’s 1975 sexual coming-of-age novel, just debuted this month on Netflix (recently in the top 10) and got renewed for a second season. Oh, how this book tore up my heart as a teenager in the late 90s! Kind of want to watch it, but you know how hard it is for me to commit to shows and movies.
Substack is getting out of control. As one article puts it: “Everyone you know has an email newsletter these days. How did that become your problem?”
Here’s our friend, Mark Travers (who I question is a real person because he publishes an insane amount of psychology articles), on the five things the happiest couples do on the weekends. (I swear, we’re going to find out he’s a robot.)2
Ever had a gratitude journal? Yeah, me too, and that got boring. Why not start a contribution journal? As Adam Grant, another psychologist person (also probably a robot), states: “Counting your blessings is good for happiness. Counting your contributions is better for motivation.”
With A.I. seeming to appear as extensions/buttons/inconspicuous corner screen “accessories” in our email inboxes, office applications, and shopping apps, isn’t it fun to hear about horrific implications? Don’t have an affair; you may get blackmailed.
In fact, I WILL give you something to celebrate post #100… Not my usual three, but SEVEN (last one is under “The art”) NYT gifted articles:
“Carolina Bianchi created a storm by drugging herself onstage at the beginning of a trilogy about sexual assault. Her latest play, ‘The Brotherhood,’ asks what happens next.” (You know this topic is personal to me, and I’m so intrigued in how we, survivors, deliver output through discussion and art about it.)
Saou Ichikawa, a 45-year-old Japanese novelist, “used her moment in the national spotlight to highlight how people with disabilities face isolation and are invisible in society, a theme she took up in her prizewinning novel, ‘Hunchback.’” (Obviously, not her responsibility to inspire me—she was just telling her story—but she inspired me to quit complaining about my “limitations.”)
Even before I started working for a tribal entity, I found myself invested in stories related to the crisis of Missing and Murdered Indigenous People. Here’s Emmilee Risling’s story.
“Where Have All My Deep Male Friendships Gone?” The women weren’t having it in the comments section. (My view: It’s hard for ALL of us to form deep friendships, especially with greater responsibilities and idolized busy-ness, but our phones fucked it up for everyone. We like our cozy bubbles on our glowing screens that destroy our mental health. Finding the people who can easily escape and care, the ones doing the hard, internal work, is RARE. When you find these people, cling to them and ignore the fact they are not exactly like you3, e.g., they are meat eaters and you’re a vegetarian.)
An adapted essay from Melissa Febos’s forthcoming memoir The Dry Season: “What I Learned Trying to Spend a Year Celibate.” This time, the men weren’t having it in the comments section. (My view: I plan on reading TDS. I enjoyed Melissa’s Body Work. In the comments, bored people were spending too much damn time defining “celibacy” vs. “chastity.” Yes, men pointed out that Melissa had to try being celibate. So hard for a beautiful woman. At the end of the day, people like to use the comments section of articles to vent about their unhappy lives when they don’t want to do the hard work and make difficult choices. To relate this to the previous link, don’t be friends with these people. You will regret it.)
Balancing the two types of happiness, hedonic and eudaemonic, may be your key to, well… happiness.
“Why Is Everyone Getting Their Tattoos Removed?” GQ jumps into this. I was actually considering getting a few of mine removed, but then I saw the door propped open at a local tattoo shop for which I had a one-hour credit, gifted from last year’s local pride festival. Why not? (See photos below in “The random.”)
The music
“Banned in Boston” - David Rose
If you haven’t heard, during a hiatus this first quarter of the year, I took a burlesque break (read: I was struggling with depression) since starting classes almost two years ago which I talk about in this piece:
Burlesque has become an important outlet for me, and I’m happy to be rehearsing a boa routine with a barely there outfit (if you want to call it an “outfit”) with some amazing women later this summer. This is the song we’ll be performing as I fall in love with myself. I suppose the audience will be in attendance as well.
I’m looking forward to documenting and sharing this in the weeks to come.
“Love is Back” - Celeste
Sure, I may be late. My teen reminds me. I heard this four-year old song at Ross recently—yes, the place to buy some of the ugliest clubwear in the clearance section. Anyway, this made me smile. “Love is Back” symbolizes a contentment and celebration of a resurgence of self-love. As I listen, the “you” Celeste references is clearly me.4
The art
Not a fan of manga, but I was drawn (pun intended) to this interactive NYT piece that scrolls through the Lovecraftian work of Junji Ito, creator of popular series like “Tomie” (featuring a tragic femme fatale) and “Uzumaki” (the spiral eyeball one).
You can watch a retelling of his stories in the Netflix animated series Junji Ito Maniac: Japanese Tales of the Macabre.
The random
On my commute, I usually smell onions, but this time of year, the combines are tearing up the ground. At first, I thought it smelled like Fritos, but no, Bugles all the way.
In my latest and sixth Provocative Lookbook, I was surprised by how many people, via comments, DMs, and texts, preferred my lack-of-sleep, no makeup pictures.
Yes, it’s pay-walled. (Actually, I should be charging more.) But Lookbook #1 is free.
Remember when my therapist suggested I be a sex educator? (And I asked: “Shouldn’t a sex educator be having more sex than I do?”) I’ve been looking into somatic sensual touch, sometimes referred to as sexological bodywork. Seattle Sexological Bodyworkers define this as:
“Somatic sex education that teaches through body-based techniques. These techniques can include coaching in breath, movement, body awareness, boundary-setting, communication, anatomy, sensate focus, massage, erotic trance, and other body-based teaching about sex.”
The Pacific Center of Somatic Sexology (for real) offers courses like “Masturbation Coaching” (apparently this is a recent porn trend 🙄, but I wondered if this was a thing many years ago) and “Somatic Sex Education and The Nervous System.”
I’m not sure I really want to be a practitioner. I’m just interested in amping up my skills. (I’m still paying off grad school.) I also feel like there’s already a bombardment of people doing this, but many sound too “New-Age” for me. I easily get lost and bored by the fluff. Yes, there’s a lot of depth and substance when embarking on expanding our small views of programmed, pitiful Westernized and still-stigmatized sex and desire, but I don’t want to have to apply for a passport to Middle Earth in the process.
To be continued…
As I mentioned above, to me, Substack is out of control. I’m not on here much. (If you remember, I turned off my notifications… and have no plans of turning them back on.) I miss when we had writers on here, not marketing gurus and content creators. We can never just keep stuff nice.
When I open the app, I check out the posts from my subscriptions: other memoirists exploring the human condition from their unique perspectives, sensualists, writers bringing different perspectives in fashion and beauty, artists, and a local dentist at the practice where I get my teeth cleaned because we were chatting at a coffee shop. (“No, seriously, you don’t have to subscribe back to me. I write about my journey in sex and sensuality post-ministry. I’m not for everyone.”)
In a recent chat with a paid subscriber, I said this in regard to my writing journey on here:
I'm not going to make enough $ here pouring more of myself out. It's difficult showcasing my vulnerability and story, what I would hope appeals to those looking for authenticity from a non-expert, when Substack seems to cater to those "in the know."
I live far away from opportunities/groups/support that make me feel normal and encouraged.
I'm trying to ramp up my writing, but I'm also doing the best that I can at this time.
The point is, especially poignant considering this is my 100th post, My Clavicle Romance has always been about telling my story with triumphs and mistakes unraveled. I learned that ethical nonmonogamous dating is not for me5, and dating apps are the gateway to Dante’s additional tenth circle of hell if he was around nowadays. You’re discovering me as I’m discovering me. With all the self-proclaimed experts on here, I hope this is refreshing.
(And sure, I offer paid subscriptions because I just like showing off (full stop) and showing off how far I’ve come in body autonomy and comfort and celebratory sensuality, but you already knew that, lovelies.)
Who will I be at my 200th post? This delightfully startles me.
Probably an Avenger.
Walmart has their own chocolate hummus. (Great transition, right?) Yes, chickpeas are the first ingredient. It tastes like brownie batter. Still trying to figure it out while I buy more strawberries.
As mentioned above, I got new tattoos.
In the world of burlesque housekeeping, my favoritest friend had to come up with a stage name that she will be officially using tonight, and I’m glad I have the opportunity to kitten her first show! This had me start thinking of my own stage name that I will start using. Maybe you can help. After all, you know my journey so well.
I started with Desi Arnaz, but I want to change the last name. (I’m half Cuban. In I Love Lucy, “Ricky Ricardo” was played by Desi Arnaz, a Cuban performer. “Desi” is special. Few people call me “Desi.”) I would love some wordplay off of “Arnaz,” but I could only think of “Desi MorPez,” which means I could be known for throwing Pez candies during my performances or have dispensers made that look like me.
No.
So Desi what??? My husband liked “Desi Hornez.” I used Gemini (guilty) to help me while using a variety of criteria like:
Femme fatale/goddess vibes
Southern European/Mediterranean mystique
A writer’s creativity
I just got more options that overwhelmed me. I’ll share some in an upcoming post. Give me some ideas.
The Foxhole, my she shed, is in transition. I needed more room to practice and mirrors, mirrors, mirrors. I was looking for an affordable option and bought in total 10 over-the-door long mirrors from Walmart on clearance for $7.00 each. I broke three, so seven became the perfect number of mirrors for the wall. #winning
I took this from one of Roxane Gay’s round-ups. “The Bad Thing” by N.C. Happe. It’s one thing to have an experience haunt you because you don’t have all the details, but it’s brutal and satisfying to use the written world as a broken zipper when you share the lack of closure with an audience.
There’s always someone who reads my stuff and becomes concerned. Have you not picked up on my sense of humor yet?
I wish I could insert a GIF referencing “Renegade” by Styx with the lyric “The jig is up, the news is out / They finally found me.” Unfortunately, the Gen Zers haven’t made this yet, and I’m too old and busy to be making GIFs.
I need humor; it’s a non-negotiable.
Note the name of her album. Not Your Muse. Exactly.
In a nutshell, I coddled a lot of men and women who were using ENM as an easy fix. Maybe, maybe I would be interested in pursuing a relationship with a woman I meet organically, but I’m so focused on other aspects of life that I don’t even remember how attraction feels anymore outside of my marriage. No one stings or zaps me anymore… but I love being the “stinger” or “zapper,” especially since it comes with little effort on my part. Sure, I’m bragging.
Well, as one of the people who liked your no makeup photos, all I can say is that they were breathtaking.
A woman is never more beautiful than she is when she first wakes, before she remembers to be self-conscious and to try and conform to whatever she thinks people want her to be...
...those photos had that devastating quality...