The Audacity

My animal body woke up hungry.
I'm done apologizing for what she wants.
I'm feeding her.

THE AUDACITY

What if thriving was the whole point?

Not the gold star they hand you at the end of a life spent behaving. Not the prize for good posture and quiet wanting. The point. The floor. The thing the whole cathedral gets built on top of. This place runs on that one heresy, and on the nerve to want the whole obscene amount — out loud, unapologetically, on purpose.

You were not put here to be palatable.

Pick a niche, they said.
I picked all of it.

No leash, no lane, and no plans to pick one. Here's what I write about.

Wicked Appetite
The hunger we were trained to ignore, now center stage.
The Tower
Burn it all down. Rebuild it bigger and stronger.
The Cringe
Dive into the shadows and make some hot mess magic.
The AudaCity
My dream: chosen family, belonging, a world remade.
Dirty Deeds
Hands deep in earth—wet, filthy, playful, nurturing.
So Much More
Where I follow the squirrels that catch my attention.

They told you to earn it. Earn what? It was always yours.

The writing lives on Substack

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Come be unreasonable with me about pretty much everything.

Stop auditioning for a life you already own.

Other things I make

Besides trouble

The Nerve

An audacious little game where the goal is to keep your attention out, without flinching. Hold your gaze, beat the clock, feed your brain.

More coming

Whatever the muse drags home next, at whatever unholy hour she does it. This seat's reserved.