Dec 31, 2010 1
Dec 27, 2010 1
New Essay: Finding Peace at The Facility
My latest essay for SexIs has just been posted. “Sex Positive St. Louis: Finding Peace at The Facility” details SEX+STL’s first fundraiser, which happened to be my first experience with a BDSM club.
(photo by Mike Estes)
On first examination, The Facility resembles a warehouse that’s been abandoned for the weekend. It’s easy to imagine that, come Monday, it will be filled with blue-collared men and women doing an honest day’s work—until you look to the left and see two metal shelving units, utilitarian in their Home Depot design, displaying a dozen or so foam mannequin heads modeling assorted gags. This isn’t your typical warehouse, and you can’t buy those at your local DIY superstore…This may look like an abandoned warehouse, but when we go up to the second story we see two men working to complete a St. Andrew’s Cross, an X-shaped wooden framework for restraining willing victims. Around the room there are various pieces of furniture, each of them designed to facilitate a unique interaction between partners. There are suspension beams, a ladder rack, a whipping post, and a shrink wrapping tool. In one corner, there’s an ordinary bed. We’re not in Kansas anymore, Toto.
We are, in fact, in Missouri, located in what feels like a forgotten part of St. Louis. We’re here because tonight is also a fundraiser for Sex Positive St. Louis. Along with Anna Banana, David Wraith, and Kendra, I’m hoping to create an environment in this city where people can talk about sexuality openly and have a little fun with it. Tonight is supposed to be the fun part, and while I’m excited, I’m also intimidated.
(photo by Mike Estes)
You can read the entire essay at SexIs: Finding Peace at The Facility
Dec 26, 2010 2
Write every day
Last night, while driving home from Christmas celebrations, something like a New Year’s Resolution occurred to me. Resolutions don’t have a lot of appeal for me. They feel very much like a holiday that’s created to sell gift cards, except that they’re created to sell gym memberships or aids to help you stop smoking. Three (four?) years ago, my partner and I decided to become vegans on January 1st, not so much as a resolution but because it set a good date between our decision to go vegan and the practical application of that decision. We went through the house and finished eating everything that wasn’t vegan (we weren’t going to throw food away, what a waste) and visiting all of our favorite restaurants to eat our favorite dishes one last time. That was three (four?) years ago, and now we have new favorite restaurants, and new favorite dishes. We are better off for the decision. If you want to call it a New Year’s Resolution that worked, well, who am I to argue?
This year I’m not going to wait until the 1st to implement my new decision. My decision is a simple one:
Write every day.
It’s something I should have been doing anyway, and there’s nothing I need to do to prepare for it. I haven’t settled on a word-count requirement, yet, and there needs to be one. Cory Doctorow used to recommend 250 words a day. 250 words a day is easy, and it gets you a novel at the end of the year. It’s hard to argue with 250 words a day. Doctorow writes 1,000 words a day, now. He finished his latest novel in 82 days, taking off only for his birthday and for a hospital visit. If I can do 250 words a day, though, I can do 500. I’m not writing a novel (or maybe I am) but wouldn’t twice the productivity be twice as good? Because, really, I’m betting I could do 750 words a day. I tried that once and failed, but I’m a better writer now than I was then. So, maybe I’m really thinking about 1,000 words a day. If I’m going to be serious about this, then I need to be fucking serious.
I haven’t decided yet, though. That last paragraph is the compelling argument that’s going through my head right now. I’m also considering some way to announce my daily word count, something to help with accountability. I’ll let you know when I make my decision.
On Christmas Eve, Natty Soltesz posted a fantastic entry on his blog called “My (Legitimate) Sob Story.” What he writes in it is true for me, it’s true for nearly every other artist you love, whose work you enjoy. Natty vocalized what every artist should be vocalizing. Living costs money, and every artist has to live before they can create. I don’t mean to say that they need to live extravagant lives. I’m a happy blue collar person, and I know that Natty is as well.
The market for writers is disappearing, and it’s already disappeared for gay erotic writers. Probably for gay writers in general. We are our own support structure now, and that’s why we must ask you for money directly. Natty referred to this talk by Amanda Palmer, and I think it’s worth posting here. I think it’s worth shouting from the rooftops.
You should read Natty’s entire post, and you should send him a few bucks. You should think about every artist you love, and you should think about how you can support them as well.
I feel there’s something inherently wrong about posting something blatantly commercial after making an emotional appeal in that last section, but that’s the point, isn’t it? I’m one of the people I’m talking about above, too. So here’s my post-Christmas pitch:
Did you get a Kindle for Christmas? Did you know that I have not one, but two items available for download for the Kindle? The latest is a Kindle edition of my Blowjob zines. Titled Rough Love and other stories, it includes the four stories found in Blowjob issues one and two, and a new introduction. The other is the Kindle edition of The Horror in Dunwich Hall. You can buy them by click on the covers below
Also, if you don’t have a Kindle, you can still get Kindle apps for your iPhone, iPad, or iPod. They’re all available as .PDFs, too.
Speaking of being vegan, my partner has just made me what smells like an awesome vegan brunch, so I’m going to stop, now. I didn’t even have a chance to touch on so many topics I want to discuss, so you’ll be hearing more from me soon.
This post was 799 words long.
Dec 16, 2010 1
Wordcloud in Motion
This is the word cloud for my Best Gay Erotica 2011 story, Bodies in Motion. I was inspired by (meaning: I stole the idea from) Rob Wolfsham, who posted his this morning, to make one of these. Mine changes somewhat drastically if you remove the character’s name, but Nathan is the center of this story’s universe so it feels good to have his name in bold, centered there.
I read Rob’s story the day I got the anthology and loved it. I’ve always been a huge fan of his work. It was interesting to find that his story plays with some of the same themes as mine, but the two stories have very different perspectives. Both stories play with the jock/nerd conundrum that seems to reoccur so much with gay men in America.
Dec 13, 2010 0
Today was a good mail day…
Today’s mail brought my author copies of Best Gay Erotica 2011. I’m obviously chuffed to have a story included in pretty much the end-all-be-all of gay erotica collections (at least as far as 2010/11 is concerned), and my two best writer buddies (Rob Wolfsham and Natty Soltesz) both have stories included as well. More importantly, though, I’m also just really proud of my story. “Bodies in Motion” is, hands-down, the best story I’ve ever written.
Guest editor Kevin Killian spoke kindly of it in the introduction:
Here’s an excerpt:
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Two weeks before school started, I went to teacher orientation and found myself staring at Nathan Derricks, the new assistant coach. Nathan wasn’t new to me. Eight years ago, we both attended this very high school. He was on the football team. Everyone in school knew him. Almost everyone in school wanted to be with him. Including me. He was that guy. In a small town, teacher orientation is something of a class reunion. Most people run away from their high school, their hometown, but some of us come back. We become the teachers. The parents. The ones who couldn’t stay away. There’s Marcia Tungsten, who wrote every boy’s name on her binder with a heart around it well into high school: music teacher. Bill Dyson, who played guitar in the quad to a small circle of tone-deaf groupies: English teacher. Davie Strunk, former bully who I had a crush on even after he slammed me into my locker: sociology teacher. Carol Jacobs, who used to give blow jobs beneath the bleachers to anyone who would take his dick out in front of her. I should know, because she gave me one. She’s the school nurse now. Then there’s Nathan. And me. I was a nobody, and now I’m a science teacher. Over the summer, I grew my beard out. It makes me look older and, I think, more teacher-like. Students have a hard time paying attention to someone who looks more like an older brother than a teacher. So I grew the beard, and I let my dark hair grow longer than usual, so that it curls. I’ve been fighting the curls all my life, but for now I let them go. “Are you married?” my students ask me. “No,” I say, not lying. “Do you have a girlfriend?” they ask. “No,” I say, not lying. To class, I wear a dress shirt and a sports coat. I’m a high school teacher wearing college professor drag. During the day, I lose the jacket, and I roll my sleeves up. I talk loudly, but I give my students a chance to speak, as well. I do my best to bring science to them not as an idea in a textbook but as a set of rules for questioning. “Who is that man in that picture?” a student asks, pointing to the framed portrait on my desk. “He your dad?” “No. That’s Carl Sagan,” I say. “Who’s Carl Sagan?” he asks. “He’s the reason I love science,” I say. After fourth period, I duck into the break room, hoping to have the place to myself. Instead, sitting at the table in the middle of the room, I find Nathan Derricks. “Hey, Johnson,” he says, calling me by my last name. “Nathan,” I say. Nathan Derricks has never said more than four words to me in my life. “How’s it going?” he asks. Seven words, now. “Good,” I say, turning my back to him, somehow instinctively wanting him to leave me alone. Eight years later, and I fall back into the nerd roll, casting Derricks in the jock role. I focus on pouring coffee into my mug. The coffee is several hours old and smells like it. As I stir in a packet of sugar, I realize that Derricks is standing directly behind me. He sits his coffee cup next to mine. “Johnson, I’ve been meaning to ask you something,” he says. “What’s up?” “I was wondering—” “Yeah?” “All those rumors back in high school: were they true?” My heart thumps hard in my chest. Did I really come back to school just so that I could get bullied again? I take a couple of deep breaths, try to calm down. “Which rumors would those be, Nathan?” “That you were gay.” I don’t say anything. “If so, then I bet you had a pretty big hard-on for me, didn’t you? All the girls did.” I turn to face him. He’s standing only inches away, practically on top of me. I breathe in, replacing the smell of burnt coffee with the smell of Nathan Derricks: sweat and deodorant. My dick thickens in my pants. “Nate,” I say, “what are you talking about?” “I’m just curious,” he says. Did he just move in closer? “That was a long time ago.” I sidestep him and manage to avoid bumping into him as he makes half a gesture to stand in my way. I leave the break room without saying anything else. That night, in my empty apartment, I masturbate without looking at porn for the first time in years. |
Dec 10, 2010 2
“I can even fuck him in the ass…”
Dec 9, 2010 0
Runaway, Kanye
The other night we had friends over and they sat with us and watched Kanye West’s thirty-five minute long short film, Runaway. It’s easy to laugh at parts of the short (and we did) but I think it’s also strangely compelling, and borders on brilliance more than once. Do yourself a favor and check it out. If you don’t want to watch all thirty-five minutes of it, at least check out the performance of the song Runaway, which starts at the 13:40 mark:
Dec 9, 2010 0
It only takes thirty seconds…
If you’re friends with me on Facebook, or read my blog post regarding the issue on SEX+STL, you know that I’m passionate about the repeal of Don’t Ask, Don’t Tell. A vote could come as soon as today on the National Defense Authorization Act. I called my Senators to urge them to vote for the repeal of DADT last week. If you live in one of the following states, you should call them today:
KEY SENATORS WHO NEED TO HEAR FROM REPEAL SUPPORTERS NOW:
–Susan Collins (R-ME): 202-224-2523 @SenatorCollins
–Olympia Snowe (R-ME): 202-224-5344
–Richard Lugar (R-IN): 202-224-4814
–Judd Gregg (R-NH): 202-224-3324
–Scott Brown (R-MA): 202-224-4543 @USSenScottBrown
–George Voinovich (R-OH): 202-224-3353
–Lisa Murkowski (R-AK): 202-224-6665 @lisamurkowski
–Mark Kirk (R-IL): 202-224-2854 @Kirk4Senate
–Joe Manchin (D-WV): 202-224-3954 @JoeManchinWV
Seriously, it only takes about thirty seconds to make the phone call. A lot of people write letters, e-mails, or sign petitions. A phone call can make a bigger difference, and takes less effort. Take the time, make the call. It’s as simple as saying “Hi, I’m ___________, and I live in ____city_____, ____state____ and I would like to urge Senator _________ to vote for the repeal of DADT.” Their office aide will thank you, and promise to pass the message along. These messages get heard, and it’s never been more important to call than it is right this second.
Dec 5, 2010 2
Jack Ballas’ beautiful paintings
I started writing something, and then my brain went on a new tangent that started with a search for French gay contemporary novels (know any good ones that have been translated into English?) and then moved on to gay paintings. Finding great gay artists can be tough because, while so many great ones exist, so many bad ones exist, too. That’s why I was so happy to find the work of Jack Ballas.
I wish I could share all of his paintings with you right now, but I’m limiting my selection because, let’s be honest, Ballas would probably rather you check out his website. And you should. Really.
It’s more than just the beautiful men that he paints, it’s also the wonderful mixtures of styles, and the text. I don’t want to sound too hokey, but if you took a snapshot of the way my erotic landscape works, I bet it might look something like these paintings.
Dec 4, 2010 0
You’re welcome, Kevin Killian
-Kevin Killian, from the introduction to Best Gay Erotica 2011.
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