Lapse In Memory (Jump)… (1-22) – Commentary

Lapse In Memory (Jump) is me putting my archivist brain and my kink brain in the same room and asking:

“What deserves to be preserved forever…
and what deserves the right to disappear?”

It’s not a sexy piece. It’s an ethical one.

Which, in this space, is rarer than it should be.

The preservationist who deletes on purpose

Early on, I tell you:

“I am a preservationist of art, entertainment, and historical knowledge.”

So on one side, you have me as:

  • the person who believes deeply archiving,
  • wants art and culture preserved,
  • believes some things should outlive us.

On the other side, I draw a very hard line:

“I do not believe that every type of information and media should be kept, viewed, and shared freely.”

That tension is the whole point:

  • I want films restored, all music accessible, lost video games found, books reprinted, art works preserved.
  • I do not want your nudes, your DMs, your trauma confessions
    treated like trading cards people hoard and share for sport.

The piece is me saying:

“I love keeping cultural history alive.
I don’t want to be your historian.”

Nudes, secrets, and the “no receipts” rule

I’m very clear that I’m sex-positive:

“I find enjoyment, even a level of arousal, when someone I enjoy speaking to shares a private photo with me – especially if it was taken solely for me.”

Same goes for dirty secrets, dark fantasies, and late-night confessions of the mind and body that spill out in text, audio, or video.

I’m not pretending those things aren’t hot as fuck to me.

Then I draw the line:

“I embrace the idea that those who want to send and receive material of a personal nature should be able to do so freely and without it later becoming ammunition – blackmail, revenge porn, ‘private collection’ trophies.”

Three big “no’s” there:

  1. Blackmail – “Do X or I leak this.”
  2. Revenge porn – “You hurt me, so I hurt you publicly.”
  3. Trophies – “I keep this as proof I ‘had’ you.”

So I say:

“I am not one to keep ‘receipts’ of my interactions with those who are no longer in my life.”

And I don’t soften it.

If we’re done:

  • chats go,
  • photos go,
  • private recordings go.

Unless there’s abuse or safety involved (I carve that out on purpose), I believe:

“Everyone should have the right to be forgotten, completely, without fear, retaliation, or regret for oversharing in a moment that has long passed.”

That’s not just politeness. That’s ethic.

It also means, if someone ever decides to rewrite history about me, clout chase, or just make my life a bit more difficult than it already can be, I’m technically “cooked” — I’ve already deleted the texts, photos, and/or videos that could bail me out.

I’d rather take the moral high ground than hoard trophies of people who trusted me with pieces of themselves that are personal and sacred.

So, if I say I didn’t do something extra scandalous: trust me, bro.

Tech reality vs intent

I’m not naive about the tools:

“Texts, photos, and files we send back and forth are always being stored, at rest, somewhere in between the devices we use every day.”

So I admit:

  • even if I delete my side,
  • the platform, ISP, cloud, or other person may not.

That’s why I frame it as:

“I make a casual effort to protect not only myself, but any other person who entrusts me with pieces of themselves.”

Not “perfect security,” but:

  • using better channels where possible,
  • minimizing what lingers,
  • not casually forwarding or stockpiling someone’s body and secrets.

It’s about my side of the street:

“I can’t erase the whole internet.
I can refuse to be one more person hoarding evidence of a version of you that doesn’t exist anymore.”

Souvenirs vs shackles

I talk about:

“From an emotional standpoint, it can sometimes be hard to move on from the ‘souvenirs’ one has acquired.”

Those are:

  • folder of old nudes,
  • saved chat logs,
  • screenshots,
  • little alt accounts you lurk from,
  • songs and playlists you never stopped associating with them.

They’re not always malicious. Sometimes they’re:

  • comfort,
  • nostalgia,
  • proof that it “meant something” once.

But they can turn into:

  • anchors that keep you stuck in past dynamics,
  • fuel for bad decisions,
  • or quiet, ongoing violations — especially if the other person assumes you wiped them years ago.

So I end up here:

“We should always be able to freely leap to our next interactions without carrying the weight of frozen memories from a dead one.”

That’s the emotional thesis:

  • You’re allowed to move on without keeping trophies.
  • The person you were in that scene, with that body, in that phase, doesn’t owe lifetime rent in anyone’s gallery.

The one big exception

I deliberately carve this out:

“Now, while this should often hold true, there are situations where this is not the approach to take – such as abuse, harassment, or harm where evidence is needed to protect oneself and others.”

That’s important.

This is not:

  • “Delete everything, no matter what, or you’re immoral.”

It’s:

  • “Delete the things that no longer matter and no longer belong to you.”
  • “Keep the things that protect you or someone else from actual harm.”

If you’re holding onto proof of abuse:

  • that’s not a souvenir,
  • that’s a shield.

The piece is not asking you to shred your armor.

It’s asking:

“Do you still need this, or are you just afraid to let an old version of yourself finally die?”

On the companion track: “Jump” – Madonna

“Jump” is the right track here because it’s literally about:

  • leaving a stuck place,
  • trusting your own legs,
  • building the muscle to move on.

It has that:

  • confidence-building,
  • “you can do this,”
  • “if you want it, get up and go”

energy — without pretending it’s easy.

Paired with this piece, it’s basically the soundtrack to:

  • hitting “delete,”
  • closing old chats,
  • removing someone from your hidden albums,
  • and choosing not to keep proof of who you once were for someone who isn’t here anymore.

The leap isn’t:

  • into a new Dom, Master, sub, or partner.

The leap is:

  • into the next version of you that doesn’t have to keep holding that particular ghost.

Cycle I – Coming on Strong · 22 · Commentary (v1.00)

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