Sex 2.0 in the thick of it.

I’m taking a breather from the Sex 2.0 Con to chill in the hotel room I’m sharing with my buddy Sarah Dopp, who fucking rules.

I just conducted a session called “Flying your Freak Flag” and it was about being out and kinky and all and I will now confess something that has gotten me lots of strange looks over the years: until I get up in front of the room, I don’t know what I am going to say.

I like to relax by milkbagging my roomie's pillows. What?!?!?

Now, I write descriptions for these things, and so I know what people are expecting to hear. In my head I think “OK. Give them what they expect, give them what they do NOT expect…and then surprise yourself.”

That’s all.

I feel like, for me, to much planning razes the seedlings that sprout in the room as people bring their own seeds and their own organic selves to the discussion. So, I leave it open. Thankfully, my God is a writer so I let him call the shots. I feel out what people are doing internally in the moment, and run with that. it is terrifying and liberating and I love it.

I overcame my usual post-class snail-reflex and stayed to talk to people. one participant told me that reading my class description was what motivated them to come to Sex 2.0 in the first place, and THAT was humbling. Also AWESOME was the energy I got from other WOC in the room when I talked about being out and being Black. Fucking A.

I don’t wanna overthink it. I do want to say thank you for the energy and the feedback and the livetweeting.

The whole think was a bowlful of spiritual manna from which I’ll be feeding myself through long wintry nightimes of the spirit when I wonder why the fuck I put myself through this shit.

You give me so very, very much.  That is why, and that is all, and that is enough.