pre-Toussaint
I'm trying to stretch back into a space that feels more like myself and less like an airy (ephemeral, but necessary) introduction– forgive the slight tone shift from hurried editorial to thoughtful correspondence. Logistical notes are under the prose, just scroll until you see the rate change announcement.
--
At home I've been cooking japanese curry, kimchi soup, and snacking on dates with butter. A divine way to wake up lately has been doing my sunrise asanas outdoors in the chilling rain, feeling the delicate push into winter growing stronger each morning.
Despite my extended stay in the temperate winters of the West Coast, my previous lifetime of New England winters lingers in my programing. A significant part of my preparation for for the colder months, beyond the mundane weatherproofing, is gathering up my intentions and preparing any needed materials for creating through the iciest parts of the year. I feel most of us accustomed to true deep winter months all have our own personal versions of this ritual. Our nervous system is anticipating the cold dark mornings and cold dark afternoons with brief hours of sunlight in between, so we begin to set up our homes to rely on more time inside a shelter that becomes gradually more reflective of our inner world. Last year I was so fixated on music production and would spend weeks walking between my harp and computer, but this year I want my creations to feel personal and close to my chest again, if only for the winter.
If we're in regular correspondence, I may have mentioned I've started ink drawing again after putting my pens down years ago sometime during undergrad. All of my most significant art influences at that time were DIY artists– zinesters and self-published illustrators, especially other punks, made art that felt so soothing and felt so familiar. Delightful line drawings of chaotic punk houses or Food Not Bombs bike rides and cameos of travelling friends made me felt like my world was so much bigger than it seemed during a typically slushy February in Boston. Most prominently, I remember reading Year One in real-time as Ramsey posted it on her Tumblr and ran small-run zine printings of other works. Plenty of other favorites are less easy to find again via search engine, but I still remember the illustrations intricately. Somewhere in my recently-disorganized pre-move boxes is a small crate of zines and DIY comics that I'm aching to treat properly again. I'll locate them after my next visit into the basement when I go to release the winter linens upon my home again. The symbolic shaking out of blankets from storage always inevitably stirs up things forgotten for previous seasons.
We have cravings for heavy pleasures in the winter, but this season I yearn for the delicate reminders, too. There's less want for a heavy flannel blanket if there's no snow drifting through the air gently biting the back of your neck.
Logistical notes to mark as we are about to close this year.
Starting November, 6hr+ bookings are for patrons or close friends only and will no longer be publicly listed on my rates or availability.
Starting December, I'm no longer alternating cities by week and will instead be blocking off 10 days per month just for Chicago. My patron calendar will take this into account, but will continue to show days I'm available for travel exceptions at request.
Additionally, my rates are raising in 2026. If we've already met this year, or meet before the end of the year, you will maintain permission to keep seeing me at my current rates through the end of 2026 at my discretion. 90 minutes remains my minimum booking time.
Patrons & close friends will have no changes to our standing arrangements.
2025 rates
90m - 450
3hr - 650
4hr -800
6hr - 1200
12hr - 1500
2026 rates updated 11-04
90m - 666
3hr - 999
4hr - 1333
Any relevant website changes, along with my typical tweaks and adjustments, will happen during this week.
