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After 7 Years Doing this Work, I’m [Re-] Branding. Here’s how I’m making decisions.

Are you considering creating a "brand" for yourself or a project? Maybe this will help.

I got thrown into this. Two-fold.

I got thrown into the work I’ve been doing. And I got thrown into a situation that’s led me to question everything, rethink and restructure, and make decisions that feel like an overall “brand.”

While I’m happy I’m here, one of the strongest forces that’s guiding what I do next is precisely avoiding how I got here: no more being thrown into stuff. Seem easy? Maybe. Probably not.

I’ll get to that in a second, but first the back story.

Continue reading → “After 7 Years Doing this Work, I’m [Re-] Branding. Here’s how I’m making decisions.”

Updates | Status

Totally new site. Slightly new direction.

Howdy! Today marks two turning points: the design of this site has changed (from this to this), and the name has¬†changed (from “Dear World” to “Sam Killermann’s Blog”).

From here on, in addition to things I’ve been writing about before (like happiness & technology), I’ll also be writing about how I DIY (do it myself) in all things social good & online platform related, and posting more personal updates about my work/life.

And totally new: I’ll be creating members-only content! So ūü§ěto a new experiment.

Updates

2016, A Brief Review of Creativity

‚ÄúMost people overestimate what they can do in one year and underestimate what they can do in ten years.‚ÄĚ - Bill Gates

2016 was, well, quite the year.

All in all, I side with what appears to be the consensus that it was, if given only one descriptor, a dumpster fire. That said, it was also more than a dumpster fire, and I want to take a moment to reflect on some of the things I made this year — something I basically never do.

So, with that said, following is what I finished, published, and/or created in 2016.

Continue reading → “2016, A Brief Review of Creativity”
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Meet FacilitatingXYZ: A Free Online Resource for ALL Facilitators

Why I'm so excited about launching this new project (another collab with Meg Bolger)

Updated September 12, 2016: we officially launched this project, after about 11 months in development, production, and ideation. Woohoo!

FacilitatingXYZ is everything I wish I had when I got started as a facilitator ‚ÄĒ and together, we can build it into something that helps us continue to learn, develop, and grow. It’s¬†a free online resource with videos, articles, downloads and (soon!) community to help all facilitators improve their craft.

Continue reading → “Meet FacilitatingXYZ: A Free Online Resource for ALL Facilitators”
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I’m Publishing A Book

And then it sunk in: I get to publish an amazing book. I get to share this with you.

I’m writing from a rooftop in Austin, taking a break from my break — which was part Naomi Klein and part Real Ale — to share a reflection that just sunk in: I’m about to publish my first book, and I couldn’t be more excited.

Now, to be clear: this isn’t me publishing the first book I wrote (that happened a couple years ago, and still hasn’t sunk in); this is me, under the auspices of Impetus Books, publishing my first book someone else wrote (in this case, I’m glowingly happy to say that someone else is Karen Rayne).

Continue reading → “I’m Publishing A Book”
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I’m terrified. I’m a professional performer, but in 90 minutes I’ll be sitting down to my first ever singing lesson.

Here are a few of the reasons why I'm scared.

The lesson will be private. One-on-one. And the instructor, Mady, is, by all accounts, an incredibly delightful, non-intimidating person. I’ve performed on stages in front of 5000+ person crowds. I’ve spoken to hundreds of thousands of people around the US. I’ve done stand-up comedy on a stage in a country where the material I was performing could have landed me in jail, or worse.

So why am I so nervous about this?

Continue reading → “I’m terrified. I’m a professional performer, but in 90 minutes I’ll be sitting down to my first ever singing lesson.”
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Starstruck

"You're in the belly of the beast," she said to me.

I would have replied, but I didn’t know my voice would be so hard to find. You don’t get starstruck, I kept telling myself, but maybe I’d never seen a real star. She felt like a star. A sparkling, ancient light, as beautiful as it is mysterious, sincere but distant.

I knew that I was going to hand her my book and explain why I needed to see her, what she symbolized to me, the support she’d offered without even knowing it. The new best friend who pops into your life right when you need them.

Sincerity is contagious.

I knew I was going to ask her to sign the passage in her book that struck me the hardest. Cut me deep and allowed me to bleed. I wanted to bleed. I was going to tell her that she let me bleed.

Sometimes it helps to hurt.

But I didn’t know that I wasn’t going to be able to say words. Or connect dots. She talked about dots, I thought to myself. She knows about the dots. Creativity, art, doing art — it’s all about connected dots. Why am I thinking this? She knows this. I read it in her book. Focus.

“Yeah,” I replied. “I… I don’t often know how to handle it. I’ve considered stopping — just… stopping — more in the past year than I did in the previous five combined. Thank… you. Thank you. For this. For you. I–”

“Don’t stop fighting,” she said. I felt the words.

She leaned her head on my shoulder, kissed me on the cheek. I felt like a child. That we were both children. I felt like I didn’t know how to feel.

I felt na√Įve and confident and terrified and coddled and right. I felt right. I felt like a child.

We were sitting on the playground together. I was the new kid; it was her turf. But I was used to being the new kid. I always landed myself in places I didn’t belong. As a kid, I moved around a lot, but more than that I made spaces up. I created places that I saw fit. As an adult, a lot of my life revolves around creating and occupying spaces that didn’t before exist, at least not for long. It’s lonely work.

I didn’t feel alone in that moment.

“I won’t stop,” I replied. “Please… just… please keep being you.”

I ran away.

I didn’t know how to say goodbye. I couldn’t make words. I hadn’t been that close to a star before. I panicked, a beautiful trainwreck, I got lost on the way out of the bookstore and found myself here, in a bar down the street writing this, because I needed to put these words down. To cherish this moment. To make sure it was real.

It was real.

Updates

InTolerance: Why I’m Writing A New Show About Prejudice, Faith, and Identity

Debuting in Chicago on Thursday, Oct. 23, I'm producing a very-new new show that's open to the public.

In a few short days, I’ll be debuting a new show. To those¬†who have followed my work, I understand that the topic (faith)¬†and setting (a church) feel like they are¬†coming¬†out of left field. And that feeling couldn’t be more right — that’s why I’m doing this show.

Granted, I’ve written about Christianity¬†a bit, both here and at It’s Pronounced Metrosexual,¬†but it would be accurate to say that Faith is not my usual go-to topic when I hop on stage. In fact, I’ve never talked about faith on stage, and, if I’m being completely honest, I feel palpably¬†uncomfortable in churches. But again, that¬†is, in essence, why I’m doing this show.

Christian/Religious people don’t often engage in dialogue with Atheist people. Straight/Cisgender people don’t often engage in dialogue with Queer people. Don’t get me wrong: there is a lot of talking¬†at¬†these different groups,¬†but that’s not the same.

There are a lot of “national conversations” led by members of all four of these groups, but so few actual conversations. And who’s leading those conversations? Who do we have speaking on behalf of us? Are we comfortable with everything those folks say on our behalf? Do we (whatever We you are) really feel that way about them? (whatever Them they might be).

There is this idea that there is no common ground, that we’re all at extremes, we’re against, at odds, “irreconcilably different,”¬†fundamentally opposed.¬†These are identities that are thought to have clear lines in the sand — party lines, political lines, permanent lines. Us. Them. And a big gap between the two.

But here’s the thing: I don’t buy it. Any of it. I think we’re getting duped, that an extremely vocal minority is misrepresenting the majority, and that we’re more alike than we are different — at least where it counts. From my perspective, it’s becoming more and more clear that’s the case. But I’m aware of how odd my perspective is at times. I’m hoping this show will help build a bigger Us and a smaller Them.

There’s this thing about me — about my identity — that mixes people’s signals

I’m not gay and I’m not Christian, and these are two things that people are surprised to find out (if this is news to you right now — surprise!). So many people¬†assume the opposite that I’ve become accustomed to correcting people, sometimes even before they say anything — an anticipatory strike. And when I do that, I never hear “Oh, I didn’t think you were,” but instead “Really?!” or “How did you know I thought that?” or (the most common) “Are you sure?”

I’m sure.

“But what you’re doing with your life is so Christian.” “But you smell so¬†good.” “But…” “But…” But…” The responses to both my not-gay-ness and not-Christian-ness are many and varied¬†and not worth getting into here (so many for the gay assumption that I wrote an entire show about it).

I’m hoping this show to¬†serve as this middle part of the venn diagram that brings these four distinctly different groups together

I’m an atheist who is¬†often¬†assumed to be a Christian, a straight, cisgender man who is often¬†assumed to be queer. ¬†As a result of that, or at least as a result of me engaging with those confusions, I’ve had a¬†ton¬†of conversations with people who fall somewhere into all four of these groups. And what I’ve found is there really aren’t four groups at all. Instead, there are a ton of individual people who align somewhere on, between, beside, or outside of each of those dimensions.

A lot of good can come from this conversation, if we do it in a healthy, non-threatening, safe way. It’s a conversation that’s already ringing in a lot of folks ears, but by no means the majority. I’m hoping InTolerance¬†will help folks feel more comfortable joining the conversation in their own lives, and nudging that seemingly-silent minority toward a¬†vocal majority.

Hell, or maybe it’ll just be fun to tell stories and laugh for an hour in a church. I know it’ll be a first for me. I hope to see you there.

Updates

What I Miss About Grad School

And what I'd do differently if I could try again.

Earlier tonight, my friend texted me “I‚Äôm over this whole constantly chasing the homework train business.”

She was talking about grad school, and sharing a sentiment I shared back when I was earning¬†my master’s. But, a bit to my surprise, I replied, “I miss grad school. Not to be dismissive of the woes — at all — but I just really miss that feeling. It‚Äôs different. I liked it.”

I’ve been moving so fast in the years since, I don’t spend much time reflecting on those two [intense] years. But there’s a lot to it that I hadn’t named. Our conversation continued from there, and I feel compelled to share what was bobbing around in my brain.

Grad School: The Circus

I often refer to my current life as a circus, with my manager being the ring leader and me the¬†juggler, dancing bear, and tightrope walker. But the circus really began in grad school, and I don’t say that with even the slightest amount of remorse.

In grad school, you’re in a circus with a safety net. You’re walking a tightrope, and you’re constantly pushed outside your comfort zone, encouraged to challenge your assumptions, predispositions, and attitudes toward concepts you may’ve held firmly to your entire life, but when you falter, there are folks there to steady your step. There are professors, advisors, supervisors, and cohortmates who are there to catch you when you fall.

In grad school, you can fall and get back up — and there is a network of people there to help you do so. You get your bruises or encouragement, dust yourself off, and get back on the rope. Or don’t. You choose.

Now I’m in a different circus — not necessarily a competing one, but a different one. A traveling circus. And it’s not that any of the folks who made up my safety net in grad school would want to see me fall, but¬†I don‚Äôt want to impose, because I know how many tightrope walkers they have in their caretaking, relying on that net.

I miss that safety net.

Grad School: If Time Machines Were a Thing

I won’t say “I’d do it all differently” because I wouldn’t. I’d do most of it the same, or similar. I appreciate my time in grad school, and cherish the relationships and influences folks had on me during that period of my life. But there are a few things I’d approach differently:

  • Embrace the safety net, be more daring on the tightrope, and fail often. Grad school, and school in general, is a time where your primary, if not sole, purpose is to learn. There are few better ways to learn than by trying and failing. And there are few safer places to fail than in school.
  • Ask for help more; it’s¬†an invaluable, ephemeral resource.¬†In school, you’re in a social contract with a whole network of people (profs, advisors, supervisors, cohortmates) who are dedicated, willing, and able to help you. That’s not a¬†thing outside of higher ed, at least not in my¬†neck of the woods. It’s not that I didn’t ask for help when I needed it; it’s that I would ask for help when I didn’t, because¬†I could have used it, even if I didn’t realize.
  • Remind myself constantly that I’m a student, not a professional. You’re in this brackish space, practicing what you’re learning (as GAs and RAs) while learning it. It’s important to not shirk responsibilities, but it’s also important not to overcompensate for experience you don’t have. You may be a paraprofessional, but you’re a suprastudent: you’re not just expected to learn, but to learn enough to be able to teach.

I love my traveling circus. I take risks — probably too many — but walk my tightrope with intentional, sure steps. I know that if I fall, I fall. There’s nothing there to catch me. That’s how things are now, but that’s not how they were. I wish I’d realized that then, danced along my rope instead of tip-toeing, focused less on making it to the other side and spent more time falling.

Updates

Gender Expression vs. Cueing, & How Sometimes They’re One-in-the-Same

And why I wasn't pandering when I kept saying how much I loved performing at the Fashion Institute of Technology

Last week I gave three back-to-back shows at the Fashion Institute of Technology in New York. I was their “Diversity Speaker” for orientation,¬†a product of some of the orientation leaders seeing me speak at a conference. I’ve said this a bunch: I loved doing those shows, and I heart FIT. What I haven’t said enough is why.

I want to get into that, but to do it I need to address the difference between gender expression and gender cueing.

First, let’s do some show and tell.

Below (and above) are a few photos of me on stage over the past¬†year.¬†Something that most people would never realize is how intentional I am about how I dress, depending on the audience, the content of the talk, and where in the country I am. These three photos are helpful in demonstrating the full range of decisions I’ll make in this regard, so let me talk about them for a moment each.

(Sidenote: the nice thing about these photos is my hair/grooming is about identical in all three, so we can just focus on the threads)

The first photo is me during my keynote at the National Sex Ed Conference.

sam-killermann-masculine What I’m wearing:¬†this is a fairly¬†masculine expression¬†for me (super important distinction). I’m wearing a dark blue blazer, lavender v-neck, solid dark-plum pants, and cap-toe brown shoes (not pictured).

Why:¬†I dressed more conservatively/traditionally because I wasn’t sure what to expect at this event, and I didn’t want my clothing to conflict¬†with my message (which was fairly serious, direct, and provocative). Further, I wasn’t going to be spending much time addressing my own gender, or perceptions of my gender/sexuality (something that’s a part of my show), so I didn’t want people to be pondering that while I was talking about other things.

The second photo is me performing S.E.X.¬†(yeah I was…) in my hometown Austin, TX

sam-killermann-androgynousWhat I’m wearing:¬†I’d consider this outfit to be a bit more androgynous. I’ve got the typical mainstays of man-fashion on — the jacket, the button down shirt, the pants — but with a twist. The jacket is glittery silver. The pants are a muted leopard print. My shoes (not pictured) are the same black step-in moccasins as in the third picture, and my socks vibrantly striped in cool colors.

Why: this was a show I put together with a friend (Karen Rayne), and people were coming to see us. Like, on purpose. This, combined with the material I was performing (all super personal & anecdotal), made me feel comfortable pushing things a little bit more out of Handsometown toward Prettyville.

The third photo is me last week doing one of my shows at the Fashion Institute of Technology in NYC

sam-killermann-feminineWhat I’m wearing:¬†This is one of the most feminine outfits I’ve ever gotten onstage wearing (and by onstage I of course mean “on-mean-girls-esque-gym-floor”). Same shoes and pants as the S.E.X. outfit, but sockless and rolled a bit. And combined with a dark-plum scoop-neck shirt and a warm-color medley summer scarf.

Why:¬†because I could. This is the Fashion Institute of Technology, folks, and I assumed (correctly) that I couldn’t go too far in any direction with how I wanted to dress. The audience members presented a wonderful array of gender expressions and styles, so I was just one of the bunch in this instance.

Why any of this matters: Gender Expression vs. Gender Cueing

For a brief understanding of gender expression and gender cueing, the way I use and distinguish between the two terms is in these ways: gender expression is the various ways you intentionally and unintentionally display gender, through your dress, actions, and demeanor (based on the traditional expectations of what those displays mean); gender cueing is the various ways you demonstrate your gender, through your dress, actions, and demeanor (with the intention of helping other people gauge or understand you as a gendered person).

Gender expression is sometimes gender cueing, but gender cueing is always gender expression. Or, in non-words, like this:

gender-expression-vs-cueing-by-sam-killermann

 

Both can be thought of as performances

For some folks, they aren’t aware of the fact that they’re constantly playing a [series of] role[s] in the play called Gender! They don’t hear the director’s calls, realize they’re reading a script, or pay attention to the stage they’re sharing with other actors.

But if you’re as aware of gender as I am, it’s hard to not be cognizant of the idea that you’re constantly performing gender. I am aware of this on some level¬†constantly, particularly when I’m literally on a stage.

Neither can be truly avoided

If you live in a society that relies on gender as a social construct, whether you’re aware of it or not, you’re constantly expressing and cueing gender. Even by choosing to try not to express gender, for example by wearing more neutral clothing or¬†behaving in ways that you might think of as non-gendered, you’re marking your gender by unmarking it.

Now, to be sure, in our society’s Play feminine-presenting people, and women in general, are much more often “onstage” for their gender.¬†If this is an idea that you don’t immediately grasp, read this amazing article by Deborah Tannen: Marked Women,¬†Unmarked Men.

Why I loved FIT so much is encapsulated in that third picture

Whenever I get on stage I’m putting on a gender costume. I’m not a snowflake¬†in this regard — we all do it. As I commented above, I’m hyper-intentional about that costume, what it might mean, and try to control, as much as possible, the ways I express gender and the cues the audience receives.

But what most folks don’t realize is that this costume I’m wearing is 99-times-out-of-100 a more masculine representation of gender than I would prefer to express, and is generally¬†not¬†cueing how I feel as a gendered person. That is, the costume I wear is toning it down, not dressing it up. And this is a weight I bear when I’m performing, because I’m aware of how I’m doing several performances at once (a performance in a performance — the Inception of stand-up comedy).

A lot of folks asked me if I felt the pressure to dress more fashionably at FIT after they saw that photo on Facebook¬†or Instagram. Don’t get me wrong, I did spend [an embarrassing amount of] time thinking about what I’d wear, but that question is working from patently-wrong assumption about why.

The why that led to me dressing how I did that day was a special feeling, and one that I had, until last week, never experienced leading up to a show or talk. It was something I rarely experience at all, despite my wants for it.

In truth, I didn’t feel pressured to dress in¬†any way¬†for that show at FIT: I¬†felt liberated to be myself.

Technolophizing

How I Keep Track of 50 Projects at Once (& Maintain Some Sanity)

A friend wrote me and asked how I make sense of everything. This is what I replied.

I’m currently in the process of finishing¬†two books, starting¬†another, publishing¬†two new sexuality models, three new live social justice comedy shows, running half a dozen volunteer-based initiatives, building I’m-not-even-sure-how-many websites, and the list goes on. It’s a lot. And as I type that, it’s easy to feel overwhelmed. But I’ve found a way to make sense of it all, to not lose any of my little ducklings, and to retain¬†a semblance of peace of mind.

It’s just a matter of coming up with a way of not losing track of ideas before they¬†develop into things.

I want to first say that I’m not very good at this — I’m just good enough. And if you’re a notebook/physical thing person, you’re not going to like this, because I’m all digital, baby (in the cloud! disruptive! innoventive!).¬†I keep track of ideas, actions, and¬†creation¬†using [mostly] Evernote, Wunderlist, and Google Drive. I also have a pile¬†of external hard drives. Below is how¬†I specifically use each.

All of these things are [or can be] free, other than the hard drives. They are great for collaborating. And they work on my phone, tablet, computer, and web browser.

To remember ideas, I use Evernote

Evernote is amazing, but it can easily get unmanageable. The trick is to effectively use tags and journals.

I have different journals for different ideations within Evernote (e.g., a comedy one, an IPM one, one for my forthcoming EP, one for each of my books, etc.) but use the same universal tag system for everything. That way, everything has its own place, but with the tags I can draw connections between otherwise unrelated projects.

For example, I originally wrote my gender TEDx talk to be a song, so I tagged it “lyrics” and while it changed from there, it still comes up when I’m looking at “lyrics” to see all the songs I’ve written, which I like (cuz it could be easily changed back).

To remember actions, I use Wunderlist

Wunderlist is almost as powerful as Evernote in its ability to organize, but it far surpasses Evernote’s ability to push me to get tasks done. You can have separate lists for different projects, assign tasks to people, or just have an inbox of incoming assignments (I use this feature a lot with my¬†manager & project coordinator, Chum and Bethany, where we assign tasks to one another on¬†share lists).

I have about 60 – 70 Wunderlists going at any given time. I have one for each of my live personal projects (things like IPM site, Jack and/or Jill, etc., which is about 30ish), one for each of my collaborations that are still ongoing (like the Safe Zone Project), for every freelance gig I have open, and then I have some general life ones (e.g., “Rainy Day in Austin,” “Things I Need to Buy”).

Some of the tasks have due dates, which makes it easy to know what I have to get done today, if anything (by browsing the due “Today” tab). But if that’s not absolutely necessary, they don’t. And I just open a list and work through it when I’m inspired to work on that project.

I also recently started doing “pre” and “post” lists for speaking/shows/trips, and I’ve really liked that idea. “Pre” is things to pack, print, buy, etc. “Post” is all follow-ups I accumulate while I’m there. And I have those forever until they’re complete, like the one from a trip I did back in January that is still not complete. Gotta get on that.

To get started on writing and creation, I use Google Drive

Google Drive is amazing because you can create, share, edit, and publish [limited, but not bad] all from one place. It’s as much a shared drive as it is a studio, and because of the universality of google accounts, it’s perfect for collaboration.

Right now, I have 22 top level folders in my Google Drive. As you’re starting to likely get the sense, I use these separations to help me stay organized. But for Google Drive, I don’t separate just by project, but also by collaborators. I give Chum and Bethany access to all of my personal projects, so there’s just a “CHUM & BETHANY & SAM” folder. I share access to that folder with them once, then they have everything inside, which includes everything from new articles I’m writing for a variety of sites, to bios, to show schedules, to contracts, to budgets.

Some of my other top level folders are more broad, but all with the same goal of making the sharing easy. The only reason I’m writing and making things on Google Drive instead of my laptop is because I can click a button and allow someone else access (to edit, provide feedback, take over, etc.). So it’s with that in mind that I choose how I will organize what goes where.

To finalize and publish, I use my laptop

Granted, I’m using my laptop for a lot of the things above as well, but here I mostly mean Adobe Creative Suite (for all the design and print stuff) and Sublime Text 2 (for programming web stuff). And I back up all of the finished products of everything on external hard drives.

To organize my computer, I created a new top level folder (on the same par as “Documents” and “Movies”) called “Projects.” In Projects, I have a subfolder for everything I’m currently actively working on. Everything finished or dormant stowed away on an external drive. The nice thing about the Projects folder is that now I can still use the Documents folder for what, I think, it was meant to be: a hodge-podge of personal things (like tax returns) and other files you’re not sure where to put (like resumes, animated .gifs of Ellen dancing, etc.).

As far as backing things up, I have separate external hard drives for three different divisions of my work: photo/video (all on one hard drive), design, and organizational. So I know that if I need the raw video clip of a testimonial from a keynote that I gave three years ago, I plug in my blue hard drive where it’ll be organized hierarchically by type and date, and I can find it in 2 minutes. Ditto with a poster I made four years ago and haven’t thought of since (just happened as I was redesigning Dear World). Or an organizational structure and position descriptions for something I did in 2012. All on separate hard drives, waiting to be resurrected.

Each of those hard drives is backed up as well, of course. And my computer (with all of my live projects) gets backed up every couple of days on a separate hard drive altogether.

This is how I do it, not how you should

The above system works really well [enough] for me. But I came to it through a ton of trial and error. And the best advice I can give to anyone is exactly that: try things, try different things, then try some other things.

You can start with the things above, but don’t stop until you’ve found a system of techniques, software, writing on your hand, pinning notes to your shirtt, whatever, that feels¬†right. You’ll know when you find it. Or, rather, you’ll know when you haven’t, so keep experimenting until you hit your stride.

Updates

My First Live S.E.X. Show

Don't worry! It's not just me. I'm doing it with my friend Karen.

A couple months ago my friends Karen Rayne¬†and Heather Ross approached me with an idea. I don’t remember the wording, but I don’t think it was anything less tongue-in-cheek than “Wanna do a sex show in Austin?”

Um. Yes.

I’ve been wanting to find a way to bring what I do — the social justice comedy-ness of it all — to a more¬†adult crowd (if you will) for a couple years now. When I first moved to Austin the plan was to produce my show,¬†It’s Pronounced Metrosexual,¬†in town as a standing gig, then take it on the road to colleges. That fell through for a ton of in-the-end beneficial reasons, and I ended up rewriting the show into what it is now: something that’s perfect for colleges, but not so perfect for ATX.

Enter S.E.X.

The idea behind the show is that I get to tell a bunch of stories I rarely/never¬†get to tell¬†(like my orgy story, or this new one about a massage in Dahab), and Karen gets to answer questions that adults [in Texas, or, really, most places] have never been able to ask (like, “How does fisting work?“). And we’re doing it on stage.

It’s a perfect date night. Great for 20s, 30s, and 40+s couples, getting away from the kids, or just opening your mind to something new.

Every month, the show will have a different theme, and for the first one, it’s [obviously] Our First Time.¬†It’s going to be a blast, an adventure, and a bit terrifying; awkward, clumsy, messy; I’m definitely not going to¬†tell my parents about it¬†— but above all it’s going to be perfectly¬†Austin.

Below is a little video we put together that might help make it all make sense. Further below is an interview I did with a delightful person that was supposed to be about the show.

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