The pieces are what I’m willing to say out loud.
The commentaries are what I’m willing to admit about what I just said.
The Commentaries
- Cycle I — The Commentaries
- Cycle II — The Commentaries
- Cycle III — The Commentaries (In Development)
- Cycle IV — The Commentaries (Planning Stages)
If the front-facing work is the clean line on the page—the voice, the hunger, the ethics, the authority—then the commentaries are me stepping back from the piece and telling you what’s actually happening under the craft: why I made the choice, what I meant to do with that pivot, what I refused to do even when it would’ve been easier, and what I’m trying to leave in your hands when the last paragraph ends.
They’re not “bonus content.” They’re not a recap. They’re not me explaining the joke.
They’re the receipts.
What You’ll Find Here
Sometimes I break down a piece like a director’s commentary—where the tension is coming from, why a certain line has bite, why a softer version would’ve been dishonest, why I let a moment breathe instead of rushing to make it land “right.”
Sometimes it means I name what the piece is really about—even when the surface story looks like something else.
Sometimes it means I tell you what I was protecting: the reader, the subject, myself, the integrity of the role. And sometimes it’s me saying, plainly, here’s the boundary line—the one I won’t cross for clicks, praise, or easy arousal.
Because the truth is: people don’t just react to what’s written.
They react to what they think it means.
The commentaries exist for the readers who can feel there’s a second layer—who sense the structure underneath the sensuality, the restraint underneath the threat, the care underneath the mark—and want to understand the build.
I’m explicit about what a line is doing to you.
Why certain themes keep showing up.
Why certain themes repeat on purpose.
Why consent and choice aren’t decorations in my work—they’re the frame everything sits on.
And if you’re the kind of person who reads me because you like the power… you’ll like this too, because the commentaries show you the discipline behind the power. The part that doesn’t need applause. The part that’s built, not performed.
How It’s Organized
Each commentary is paired to a piece, and it keeps the same overall DNA: direct, psychological, and sometimes funny.
You’ll also find breakdowns of companion tracks show up here—how they exist not just as decoration, but as calibration for each piece.
And even though these are dense—rich with intent and information—they’re not a cheat code. I’m not handing you every secret, every connection, every meaning. Some things stay open on purpose. Some truths aren’t stated because they’re meant to echo, or return later, when the work is ready to say them out loud.
Read them in order if you want the slow accumulation—or in bursts if you want to binge the mind behind the voice.
This world rewards attention.
If you’re looking for the main body of work—not the receipts, not the understructure, not the director’s cut—you want The Cycles: the primary run of pieces where the voice lives on the page, the pressure builds in sequence, and the record is written in full.
The Cycles
- The Cycles (Overview)
- Cycle I — Coming on Strong (The Hidden Voice)
- Cycle II — Coming of Age (The Hidden Life)
- Cycle III — Coming to Light (The Hidden World) (In Development)
- Cycle IV — Coming to Terms (The Hidden Ghost) (Planning Stages)
If you want the full effect, read a piece and then its commentary—back to back. The commentary doesn’t soften the impact—it clarifies the standard. If you’re paying attention, you’ll understand why I write the way I write.
Companion track: “Talk About the Blues” – The Jon Spencer Blues Explosion