by Clare Lagomarsino

Hi! My name is Clare, and I run Combos Press. I started my press back in 2022 when I self-published an anthology, Queer Earth Food. Since, I’ve been publishing books on queerness, agriculture, food, and lesbian lives. I also have a full-time job in media, and I am currently planning our wedding with my fiancé. I’m about to enter a busy season of tabling at book fairs and finalizing two huge book projects, so I’m in heavy prep mode right now. This is a week in my life running Combos Press.

Monday, September 1
I just returned from a solo trip to Provincetown, and I am spending the day tying up some loose ends at Combos. Since it’s Labor Day, I have the day off of work at my media job. I devote a good chunk of time to finalizing some edits for an upcoming cookbook I’m publishing called Queering Mormon Cuisine. This book was pitched to me about a year ago, and currently we’re on the second round of edits. The author, Madi, spent all spring making changes to the manuscript of this book based on my first round of feedback, so the ball has been in my court this summer reviewing their edits. I’ve left some comments for Madi to review. Overall, it’s looking great.

Today also marks day one of the Bay Area Queer Zine Fest (BAQZF). I’m tabling virtually, which means that a link to my website has been published on BAQZF’s site and will be promoted on their Instagram. I’ve never done a virtual zine fest before. I’m hoping that some new folks find their way to my site and resonate with my work.

Tuesday, September 2
Today is a busy day. I’m back to work after the long weekend. Since I work fully remote, I’m able to dip out for quick errands during the day and spend my lunch breaks working on Combos.

This morning, I dip out to feed my neighbor’s cats while they’re away on vacation, and stop by the firehouse to vote in my town’s election. I live in a very small town in upstate New York’s Hudson Valley region; when I slipped my ballot in the machine it told me I was the 34th voter today! My last errand is to the post office to ship out Combos book orders. I’ve been shipping out orders for Burp, a new zine called on fermentation and queerness.

Back home, I knock out a ton of work for my day job, then in the evening I devote some time to responding to Combos emails. I’ve been putting out feelers with two UK-based writers for a new zine, but I’m not sure that anything will come of it just yet. I also responded to a photographer who had sent me an email approving some permissions that I asked for. I’m working on a new book called Nearest & Dearest: an anthology of dyke domesticity. It has turned out to be a beast of a project. One of our writers, Julia of the Dyke Domesticity Substack, wrote a piece for this project which will be accompanied by archival photography. After long discussions with the photographer and some essay edits, we’ve finally secured permission to print a handful of photos alongside Julia’s piece.

Another exciting email: I’ve been accepted to Staple + Stitch, an art book fair happening in Chicago this November! I respond immediately to let their team know that I’ll be there. This made me realize that I haven’t posted yet which fairs I’ll be at this fall on Instagram, and my fall book fair schedule is pretty locked down at this point. I text my friend Paris, an amazing graphic designer, to see if they are able to design me a little tour poster graphic. They get full creative freedom—I trust that whatever they design will turn out amazing.

Wednesday, September 3
After yesterday’s frenzy of errands and emails, today will be gentler for me. I have a full day of work, a therapy session, and a date with my fiancé Emily after work to finally put together the save-the-dates for our wedding. We’re getting married next year, and just received the save-the-date postcards we designed in the mail. We set up a little assembly line: I’m running envelopes through the printer so that I don’t have to handwrite everyone’s name and address, and she’s stuffing the postcards in the envelopes. I’m inviting some really special people that I’ve met through making books to our wedding; I feel so lucky to have made such close friendships doing Combos.

Before going to bed, I submit my table fee to the folks at Staple + Stitch. A half table costs $125, which is pretty standard for book fairs these days.

Thursday, September 4
Now it’s confirmed that I’ll be in Chicago for Staple + Stitch this November, I can finally start booking all my travel and confirming other events related to some books I’ve published. I recently released a book called As Ever, Miriam by my brilliant friend Faythe. It was originally published by a Canadian press called OK Stamp, but I’ve picked up the second edition. Faythe has some programming coming up in Milwaukee this fall, and I’ve just confirmed a book talk at a bookstore in Madison, Wisconsin called A Room of One’s Own. It’s on my to-do list to send the events coordinator Iris the materials they need: Faythe’s bio and author photo, and a description of the book.

After taking some meetings at work, I book my hotel for Staple + Stitch, flights to and from Minneapolis for the Midwest Queer & Trans Zine Fest, and Amtrak tickets. I’m charging this to my business credit card—I’ll pay it off later once I’ve done the fairs and can earn the money back for all the travel. Usually I break even or make a tiny profit at these things, but it’s worth it for me to travel to new places and meet people that I otherwise wouldn’t have. Maybe some day I’ll make big bucks!

I realize that I had missed a call from my friend and Nearest & Dearest co-editor, Nina, the other day while working on save-the-dates with my fiancé. I call Nina back, and we chat for an hour on FaceTime. They’re at the New Mexico state fair and show me all the quilts in the art pavilion. Back when we were working on publishing their memoir Squelch, we used to talk on the phone for hours on end multiple times a week. It’s nice to catch up about life and the projects we’re working on.

Friday, September 5
I’m taking today off from Combos. I finish all my day job tasks, and then my fiancé and I are headed to a friend’s house for a pizza party. We belong to a little supper club here in the town we live in. Tonight it’s Nicole’s turn. She’s made pizza dough and prepared tons of toppings. Emily and I bring the ingredients for a blueberry cocktail and stay up chatting and eating with our friends until we all get tired.

Saturday, September 6
Emily usually works weekends, but she has the day off today. We plan to get bagels for lunch, then drive 2 hours to the Brimfield Antiques Flea Market in Massachusetts.

Before heading out, I stop by the post office to pop a check and our save-the-dates in the mail. I’m sending my friend and collaborator Tig a check. Tig made a zine called Playing in the Dirt that I published last year. The project has a mutual aid aspect: we’re redistributing profits from the sales of the zine to queer midwestern farmers. I’ve been holding on to all the profit that we’ve made, and since it’s almost the one year anniversary of the zine, Tig is finally launching a system to get the money out to farmers. The check is the $4k profit we’ve made in just under a year.

Paris texts me the Combos Press Fall Tour graphic. It’s perfect. I post it on Instagram immediately.

Sunday, September 7
I try to keep Sunday intentionally slow. I drop Emily off at work, pick up a birthday gift in town for my mom, and finish some chores around the house before sitting down at my computer to fire off a long email to Faythe. We’re traveling to the midwest together this fall for some book-related events. It’s been on my to-do list since booking my flights to write a detailed itinerary for her, just so she has it. I prepped my to-do list for the upcoming week as well: I have to book one last hotel, drop some boxes of books off at my storage unit, make the last payment on my accommodation in Pittsburgh for the upcoming Pittsburgh Art Book Fair, schedule updated Covid/flu shots, and make sure I’m stocked up on masks before heading into this busy fair season.

Clare is a publisher and designer based in the Hudson Valley region of New York. She is the founder of Combos Press. When she’s not reading or trying to track down a queer beekeeper to write a zine for Combos (please hit her up), she’s probably at a restaurant ordering a roast chicken.

by Mel Oliver

A feminist, lesbian, anti-consumer ad for a dyke’s most reliable situationship.

Some lovers are fleeting.
Some lovers require a U-Haul.
Some lovers are non-monogamous paramours who find joy with complex calendars.

And some… are vibrators.

I’ve chased the luxury ones—the ninety-five-dollar waterproof swans with twelve settings and an LED light show. They’re pretty. They purr like your favorite kitty. But too often, they faint halfway through the party, leaving me staring at their satin pouch like an item plucked out from a “Free” Box on the side of the road.

$8 vibe,
She’s loyal.
She’s humble.
She hums like the quietest revolution.

I’ve seen her kind on the bottom shelf of the pharmacy aisle, blushing under fluorescent lights. No sleek packaging. No luxury promises.
Just a small, knowing smirk in blister plastic.

These eight-dollar jawns are a ten if you ask me—a queer fantasy: affordable, reliable, practical, and finishes the job—.

Reclaiming vs Transaction

Transaction in a consumer society such as The United States—will make business impersonal. I say it's always personal and that it’s all our business to get the most pleasure out of it as possible!

History has a funny way of humming. In the 1960s, the Hitachi Magic Wand showed up on the market as an innocent “back massager.” But in the hands of legends like Betty Dodson and Joani Blank, it buzzed its way out of medical gray zones and into feminist workshops, lesbian bedrooms, and storefronts like Good Vibrations and Eve’s Garden. Suddenly, this wasn’t just a machine—it was a revolution in plastic casing: a tool of sovereignty, pleasure, and a little economic rebellion.

I’ve learned to hold space for anti-capitalism in hyperconsumerism:

1. Take pleasure in spending money on yourself.
2. Spend your money on working-class, queer, and small businesses when you can.
3. And sometimes? Find the cheapest, most durable option—more bang for your buck.

Because as technology advances, batteries and chips get smaller, pricier, and more extractive, the humble vibe reminds me there’s another path. Every orgasm is also a reminder: this body is mine. My wallet, my choices, my joy.

That spirit still vibrates today. Queer sex educators keep showing us that pleasure—whether sparked by breath, hands, or your favorite eight-dollar jawn—isn’t frivolous. It’s a guidepost, a kind of queer spirituality. A reminder that even the simplest hum can carry us back to ourselves.

Current queer-owned sex shops you might not mind spreading the love for:

Oakland-based and Black-owned FeelMore
Chicago's North Side’s, Early to Bed
Black and Queer small business, New York Toy Collective
Queer, Trans and Disabled-owned, Cute Little Fuckers

What once hid behind clinical marketing is now out in the open: a joy machine, buzzing with revolution…

Self Reclamation Workshop

Reclamation does not end with the body but also your bank account.

Praise be, $8 vibe!

She doesn’t care if I’m fresh from the gym or traveling across oceans. When I take her in my hand—steady, certain—patient and unblinking—a working-class hero in pastel casing… She doesn’t need charging, she doesn’t overpromise, she doesn’t try to sell me a lifestyle. She just shows up, does her thing, and lets me bask in warmth and good vibrations..

Maybe, rooted in that same radical lineage, my lesbian wisdom summons the underdog. I choose what works and honors my body.

In these economic times, our pleasure doesn't need to cost a fortune. The simple, unpretentious things—the eight-dollar jawns—can bring the fiercest joy. I imagine dykes everywhere, grinning in solidarity, fingers curled, celebrating that sometimes the cheapest item on the shelf is the richest gift you’ll ever give yourself.

References

● Best Vibrator (Vibrator Review)
● Oh Joy Sex Toy – Hitachi
● The Conversation – Vibrators and Medical Quackery
● Them – Magic Wand Fun Facts
● Buzzfeed - 19 Queer-Owned Sex Toy Shops To Support

Mel Oliver, is a Black Chahta-Indian Lesbian, Environmental Educator, Storyteller, and Healer who spends her time consuming sapphic media, serving community, gardening and hiking with her Carolina Dingo, Louie. She is also Sinister Wisdom's assistant event producer for 2025-2026!

Dear Sinister Wisdom Family,

Hello! My name is Sydney; I’m a writer/musicologist/classical musician, and I had the pleasure of interning for Sinister Wisdom this past summer.

Throughout the internship, I gained experience in reviewing, copy-editing, and research, amongst other things. This was an incredibly beneficial experience (if you’re considering interning, do it, it’s fun) that gave me some Serious Editorial Skills. But anytime I went onto the Sinister Wisdom website, something caught my eye, nagged at me, kept me up at night.

The Blog Button.

I love a blog. It is my guilty pleasure—actually, that’s not true, I’m very proud of my blog addiction. The personal element gives me a fix of parasocial relationships and I love reading different styles of writing. When I clicked on The Blog Button, I was met with the various book lists, which are fantastic (go check them out), but not your typical blog post. I yearned for a space in Sinister Wisdom for slice of life, fun, casual posts. Naturally I reached out to our editor, Julie, asking if we could start this blog back up again.

She was enthusiastic and gave the green light. Huzzah!

Without further ado, I would like to introduce the rebooted Sinister Wisdom Blog. For all you Substackers, prolific journalers, or anyone who wants to share their stories: we are open to pitches!

What are we looking for: Any personal writing with a casual tone. Some examples: a day or week in the life, a behind-the-scenes look on a project you are working on, or a stream of consciousness piece. Anything outside the box is highly encouraged. Remember, the personal tone is what differentiates this from other Sinister Wisdom publications.

What we are not looking for: Works of fiction; hyperbole is more than welcome, but must be rooted in fact. Traditional reviews; you can go visit our friends at Wild Shrew Literary Review for that. Academic works; while posts can relate to academia, they should not be academic in nature.

How to pitch: Email blog@sinisterwisdom.org with any pitches or inquiries. Feel free to send a paragraph describing what you would like to write about, or full pieces for consideration.

We here at the Sinister Wisdom Blog look forward to hearing from you!

With love,

Sydney