Still alive… barely! I wrote over 7,000 words today (that’s about 25 pages, give or take) plus three Fleshbot posts; I feel kinda dizzy. But I can safely say that looking over the book’s content that if Focus on the Family got pissed off about my Ultimate Guide to Fellatio enough to try and ban it (back in 2003), they’re going to assemble the angry mob for this next sex guide, for sure. No, I can’t tell you what it’s about, and I really wish I could, but let’s just say I’ve gone happy-skipping into crazy sex territory (and I’m feeling it).

Friends call me and are mad: I got 14 calls today. I cannot answer my phone when I write like this, I can hardly even feed myself, it’s a bizarre feeling of madness and I don’t know where the writing comes from. I wish they understood. If I have any friends left, they are the only ones who understand deadlines and the intense need to write. I disappear when I write like this, I feel translucent. Ghostwriters must feel like this, but even more ghostly, more invisible; I could never be a ghostwriter, even though I can produce content like one. Reading this, you are more in contact with me than my close friends. It really is like dating me, in so many ways; I’m inconsistent but still yours. Reading me is intimacy. I’ll answer my phone saturday, after I lecture to human sexuality students at the UCSF annex in the afternoon about oral sex, and before the dancing, drinking and Halloween parties at night… I’ll be back to my normal bloggy self soon.

My costume this year is most fitting. You’ll see. In the meantime, enjoy Machine Animal Collages.