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Bday Bloggin’!

February 21st, 2025

It’s my birthday season, y’all! Little fish, big fish, swimmin in the water… I used to resent having a winter birthday (and not just that, but a “dead-of-winter-so-over-it-when-is-spring-coming-for-the-love-of-etc-etc-birthday”). All my friends with summer birthdays would be celebrating at Water World or the park or Lakeside (a cult-favorite of an amusement park, for those of you transplants). Meanwhile, I was shuffling off copious cold weather layers in the rec center lobby.
It’s different now. Now I’m a snow bunny, through and through. Or a snow leopard. A snow bear. A snow fairy.
I’m so grateful to be a creature of this season. I absolutely love taking a loved one or two and traipsing off into the snowy wilderness to a mountain hot spring in celebration of my solar return. I feel so blessed to be a winter baby, descended from people who followed the reindeer herd, who rested like the bear, who sought the pale winter hare.

For this birthday, I would absolutely love if one of you, my dear Mysterious Readers, sent a token of love and appreciation from my wishlist. It can be a gift card to one of my shops at the bottom there, or better yet, a donation to one of the orgs on the list. I’m thinking of starting a little rewards program or something too… Upon receipt of a donation of $100 or more to one of my orgs, you would receive a pic or video of exclusive content from me. What would you think of that, Mysterious Reader?
But in the meantime, for my lil bday, I would love just any little token of love from you. Any amount. Just to show me you care, just to show me you’re out there, Mysterious Reader. That I’m not singing to the void here.

Of course, seeing you in person would be absolutely the loveliest bday gift you could give me. I still have a few days to book here before I go out of town… will I see you now, or later, my loves? Come, warm yourself by me: my body a winter mountain siren, fed by an endless spring of heat and love.

the mountain siren sings

a dormant song

of the deep seed

-F.K.

January 30th, 2025

Teeny Tiny Bedside Blog

What’s on my nightstand:

notebook and pen

satin

dust from an old ghost

dried clover

echo of my honorable ancestors’ songs

Watership Down by Richard Adams

Braiding Sweetgrass by Robin Wall Kimmerer

Body Autonomy by Justice Riviera

Rarely does a celebrity death affect me, Mysterious Reader. I can really only think of two others who I’ve grieved: Robin Williams and John Prine. There’s the grief that comes and goes for Freddie Mercury, but that’s a grief of transcendence. Or the adolescent grief for Chopin, whose grave I visited once in Paris where I drank a bottle of wine and cried for hours, with only a curious crow for company, and the brief presence of a mean old French man who yelled at me for drinking in the cemetery (the only place in Paris where you can’t drink, apparently).

When I found out that David Lynch died a few days ago, I cried off and on all day. I felt the loss of a friend. I felt the approach of a new ancestor. So rare is such a gentle soul who could reflect the monsters of this world so sharply; and, with equal brilliance, reflect the love and joy that flows under everything, in even the darkest moments. Today is his birthday.

If you haven’t yet, Mysterious Reader, I invite you to explore one of his films. They’re not for everyone… but even if they aren’t for you, you’ll at least have something strange and wonderful to talk to me about when you come visit me. When’s that going to be, by the way? I would love to see your face. Would love to feel your touch. Would love to share my softness and my strength with you.

Don’t you know I’m wild at heart?

Wild at Heart and Weird on Top…

January 20th, 2025

I welcome all the ways the Universe wants to bless me. I welcome all the ways the Universe wants to bless me. I welcome all the ways the Universe wants to bless me. I welcome all the ways the Universe wants to bless me.

Thought it may be nice to start my first blog of the silly Gregorian year 2025 with some affirmations. Now that the holidays are truly truly over, I feel a tiredness and a sadness…Do you know what I mean, Mysterious Reader? A lot of people in my community have died during holidays past, and it seems every holiday someone else dies from drug and alcohol-related reasons. And even if not, there are always those family members who should have been there, passing the potatoes from the other end of the table. The loss and grief is sharp this time of year.

We need each other, Mysterious Reader. We need to hold each other close. Whether we’re aware of it or not, we are completely interdependent with each other. Even the smallest act of our daily lives relies on others in a way so intrinsic, it boggles the mind. Every time you flush the toilet, you’re relying on many, many other people. You know?

You are my blessing, Mysterious Reader. You give so much to my life, in ways you can’t comprehend. Your kindness, your gentleness, your presence… You are a blessing of the Universe, dropped into my tender lap. Come to me with your grief, with your joys, with your secrets. You don’t have to share them all. I respect your mystery, my Mysterious Blessing. I’m ready to share myself with you. Let me be your blessing, too…

“The more unknowable the mystery, the more beautiful it is.” -David Lynch

January 5th, 2025

My Mysterious Blessing…

I welcome all the ways the Universe wants to bless me

I welcome all the ways the Universe wants to bless me

New Moon at Year’s End…

December 30th, 2024

Happy last new moon of the year, Mysterious Reader! I read this morning that in old Nordic animist times, the last new moon was the day to give offerings in the name of Freyr, an old god of fertility, sex, and abundance. It was a day for women to pray for visions of their future partner, and for men to pray to be the best partner they could be (wondering what trans and non-binary people prayed for…or if they were the ones guiding the prayers, receiving the offerings?).

Traditionally, wives would “make sure their husbands were happy” on this day… I think I know a thing or two about that, don’t you, Mysterious Reader? Perhaps we should ask the new client I’m seeing in a few hours here… I’m so glad to have a nice long session today:) It’s the perfect way to honor this ancient tradition. My offering will be of my touch, my presence, my complete acceptance, my container of strong boundaries and complete safety. His offering will be his trust, his vulnerability, his donation, and his pleasure. So when are you going to be my offering, Mysterious Reader? When will you offer yourself to my sweet touch?

Snuggling up in my bed with the heater blasting, I can’t help but think of you out there, Mysterious Reader… prepping for the holidays. Juggling your job, your family obligations, your friends. Are you taking time for yourself, amid all the stressors? It’s shocking to me how little we prioritize self-care. Setting aside for a moment the grand finale promised in my sessions, it just feels so sweet to be close; to genuinely connect on this earthly plane for a moment with a stranger. I’ll be your gentle stranger, Mysterious Reader. Come be putty in my embrace.

the old gods know me by the smell

of my desire

their rough hides never shy

away from my love

-F.K.

December 14th, 2024

Holiday stress?…

December 2nd, 2024

Have you seen me on my soapbox yet?…

Last night was amazing… but before I tell you about it, I have to give you some background into a passion of mine that I haven’t even shared with you yet, Mysterious Reader.

I’m part of a small group of friends and coworkers advocating for the rights and safety of sex workers. Among our goals (including mutual aid and supporting our allied non-profit friends) is the ultimate decriminalization of this work. Decriminalization is so important, my dear reader, because it would enable us to work more openly and be able to access support and services that are currently criminalized. (We’ve made zines detailing how criminalization pushes us into more dangerous working conditions, and the continuum of sex work / why people enter this work…let me know when you book a session if you want to take a zine home with you for further reading:)

Anyway, last night we had a small, private event where we had a salon-type panel of workers from diverse backgrounds and identities talking about their experience in the work and how criminalization has affected them. It was magical, Mysterious Reader. Sex workers are the most interesting, intelligent, creative, beautiful people in the world. When we’re together, you can feel the electricity in the air. I’m still buzzing with it…feeling so inspired and so grateful to be a part of this powerful community. Some of our allied groups are listed on my wishlist, if you’d like to support these efforts!

…but if not, know that by supporting me, you’re also supporting others. Together, we’re a huge network of creatives, survivors, and movers of thought and body. Aren’t you happy to be a part of it, Mysterious Reader? I’m very happy you are.

our arms hold each other when we hold ourselves

our legs move us through this life in tandem, apart

our lungs breathe the same air, warmed by the same blood

we choose to give it to you, you choose to give it to us,

a collaboration:

the oldest dance, to the oldest music

-F.K.

I miss a winter wonderland

I miss the falling snow

I miss the clouded, faded sky

I miss the dormant flow

-F.K.

November 25th, 2024

Sometimes someone else has the words…

Wild nights - Wild nights!

Were I with thee

Wild nights should be

Our luxury!

Futile - the winds -

To a Heart in port -

Done with the Compass -

Done with the Chart!

Rowing in Eden -

Ah - the Sea!

Might I but moor - tonight -

In thee!

-Emily Dickinson

Would love to see you this week, Mysterious Reader… you want to row in Eden with me?

November 8th, 2024

You are my community, you are my care…

Well, the seemingly inevitable happened. I just hope the grief and bewilderment that I’m seeing liberals express will translate into action and actual community care. The government wasn’t designed to care for its people, especially its most vulnerable; that’s what community is for. How about you, Mysterious Reader? How do you care for your community? How do you allow yourself to be cared for?…

In other news, I finally got on The Other Board! It’s been an intimidating platform for me. To be completely honest, I’m a little afraid of a client-driven site. No offense, Mysterious Reader, but one errant bad review could seriously impact my ability to provide for myself. I’m putting so much trust in my clients to treat me well, with respect, and I take very seriously the trust you all put in me: to represent myself truthfully, to be my best and most present self in our sessions, and to deeply honor your pleasure and your vulnerability. I mean, there’s no reason for a client to give me a bad review… I don’t mean that egotistically, just honestly. I’m so good at what I do and I do all of it out of love; I trust my clients can feel that. Caring for you, Mysterious Reader, is a big part of the community care work that I’m doing. I suppose all I can do is trust that you will care for me, in turn.

But I feel kind of clunky on a new site, especially one so frequented like TOB. I accidentally put my username as “farrahkatz” instead of using proper capitalization/spacing/etc…I’m paranoid that the smallest things will impede my work. But I get squirrely like this whenever work is slow, and man, work is slow! Don’t you miss me, Mysterious Reader? Or for those I’m yet to know…don’t you want to take that plunge and brave these warm waters? Don’t you want to feel my care?

sometimes a poem is just a girl

alone in her room

alone with her books

alone in her mind

sometimes a poem

is just a girl

-F.K.

October 14th, 2024

Oops I keep forgetting to blog…

My goal for myself was to make one new blog post per month and I’ve already missed one, just four months in! Maybe I can sneak in another before October ends…to keep up this pristiiiiine record I’m going for here.

September was a busy blur. Moved out of my beloved apartment of five years and went on a special family trip to finally see the Redwoods. Both of those things took immense energy of very different kinds. Moving is always such a huge stressor, and I’m such a maximalist that it was hard paring down my accumulated belongings to the absolutely necessary. So many stones and sticks and pine cones from other special trips and experiences of my life. I must admit, Mysterious Reader, most of these little creatures came with me to the new place. Boxes of rocks and lovingly packed bone shards and flora…I just feel more comfortable around these little babes than I do around most people. They speak more softly.

This feeling of safety among wild things has always been big for me. When I sat at the foot of the Redwoods, I felt so small and so held. Their grandeur made me think of elephants, reminding me of an article I read about scientists giving an elephant an MRI and discovering that their brains react to seeing (most) humans the same way our brains react to seeing puppies: they think we’re cute. And I felt cute, scrambling around those massive trunks, examining the wrinkled skin, nestling myself into these ancient trees’ embrace. I love feeling so small: makes the rest of my problems seem even smaller in the shadow of how immense it is to be anything at all.

my ancestors are trees: their minds, roots

I was a memory to them before I was even born

they dreamed me into being

they will dream me back into the folds of their bark

someday

-F.K.

August 24th, 2024

Waiting in a still place…

Some months just seem to drag, don’t they? When I was a kid, August was always too fast. The return to school seemed to rush into the end of summer like a wrecking ball. But in this work, August plods along like it has all the time in the world. Everyone is busy cramming the last of their vacations in before the responsibilities of autumn hit. Needless to say, work’s been slow and I’ve been trying not to stress.

But a friend has offered to vouch for me so I can get on TOB finally, and that should help pick things up! Being in this field has taught me how to ride the waves of abundance and stillness with grace and patience. I know you’re out there, Mysterious Reader. I must trust that you’ll find my touch when it’s your time, and not a moment before.

Until then, I’ll wait for you. My heart will simmer in a cool, silent cove. All the pleasure and relaxation of my inner cenote rests so still, waiting for you, Mysterious Reader, to finally return to me (or find me for the first time) to dip your tired, well-worked body in my pool. Don’t wait too long…

I’m not myself without you

I need you under my touch, under my weight

I need to rest my soul in the palm of your hand, for a moment

I need you to give me your warmth from below, that submerged place

where you’re most vulnerable

where I can keep you safe

-F.K.

July 21, 2024

Who even blogs these days anyway…

Well, here I am, exploring the interwebs (and my work…) in new ways. Braver ways. I feel a little awkward and clumsy here, typing out my thoughts for the entire web void to consume. But someone smart told me that a blog will help my clients get to know me, to “hear” my personality better. They told me you would be here to catch my words in your own little net, Mysterious Reader. Are you?

I’ve been working hard on my online presence lately. Yesterday, I went back through my old grad school-era Twitter account and deleted almost everything, remaking it into an account for Farrah to express herself. How surprised and happy I was to find her already there, her voice ever simmering somewhere within me. It felt nostalgic and a little melancholy to see all the books I was reading back then. How enmeshed I was in academia. There’s so much about it I don’t miss…but still there’s plenty to grieve.

If my death studies have taught me anything, it’s that grief shows us who we are through what (and who) we love. And just as Farrah has been waiting within me, coiled in all her power and beauty, the little nerdy schoolgirl who loved Joyce and Angela Carter and Levinas lives in me yet. What a surprise to rediscover her through Farrah. What a gift.

And what about you, Mysterious Reader? Who do you crave to rediscover within yourself? A part of you that’s been tucked away, or forgotten, or shunned? Would they like a little poem for their lonely pocket?

we all send our hearts out into the dark

we give them a jacket, a snack, a well-worn word of love and bravery

we teach them what we know of the wide, bellowing world

we hope they’ll return to us changed

we hope we’ll still recognize them

-F.K.