Dear gay white males:
When you slide into my DM’s with, “you’re pretty cute for a black guy,” realize this isn’t a compliment. It’s a microagression and worthy of a black eye.
Dear GWMs
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Destiel Denied
Destiel Denied: On Supernatural, Queerbaiting, and Bisexual-erasure
The Road so Far
Recently, Supernatural ended after fifteen seasons, but not without controversy.
For those unaware, Supernatural was a fantasy series about two brothers, Dean and Sam Winchester, who hunted supernatural creatures. Following the monster-of-the-week formula perfected by Buffy and Charmed, Supernatural was a mainstay of the WB network and later the CW network. And its hunky male leads Jared Padalecki and Jensen Ackles drew in female and queer viewers alike year after year.
Continue readingI Am Not Your Ken Doll
I Am Not Your Ken Doll
Introduction
To the uninitiated, the most popular genre of books is romance—stop laughing. These much-derided books rake in billions of dollars each year and have subgenres such as so-called Mommy Porn a la Fifty Shades of Grey, Paranormal Romance featuring werewolves and other creatures, or Portal Fantasies like the Outlander series. In recent years there has been an explosion in male/male romance or M/M Romance to its ardent fans. Heralded as progressive and ground-breaking by some of its readers, these can contain some problematic tropes and themes, which I’ll discuss in this post.
Continue readingA Work In Progress
Introduction
It’s January again, which means a new year filled with new goals and dreams. The first month of the year gets its name from Janus, the two-faced Roman god of beginnings, endings, and transitions, among other things. You can read more about him here.
And it’s at this time of year the days grow longer with the hope of spring on the horizon, that we look to the future.
The Great Reset
After the dumpster fire that was 2020, we could all use a fresh start, right?
Over the last year, our lives underwent a seismic shift as we’ve adapted to social-distancing, increased hand washing, mask-wearing, and staying home as our countries/states shut down.
Like any massive change, it’s brought with it hiccups and setbacks as we’ve adjusted to the new normal of remote working and learning, and the pain of not being able to see loved ones in person.
However, some good has come from this experience. The extra time spent at home has led to more people taking up a new hobby or an old one and learning new skills like coding or writing a book. It has also led to much introspection about what life will be like post-pandemic and our place in the world.
As of this writing, over 357,000 people in the US and nearly 2 million world-wide have died. Sobering numbers to say the least. This pandemic has laid bare all our fears and forced us to confront the fragility of life and its ephemeral nature. Thinking of one’s death is seldom a happy matter, but this experience has made me realize something. Everything is a work in progress
We Are All Works In Progress
If 2020 taught us anything, it’s that when we think we have it all figured out, we’re thrown a curve ball. How many times over the past year have you groaned as the news reported the latest findings about the virus worse than the last? Or just when you had a routine set for work or writing, something happens to disrupt it?
This past summer I was all set to release my debut novel. Then my editor emailed me with their notes. It wasn’t good news. The story I’d poured my heart into wasn’t up to par, and this hurt like an MFer, a feeling I’m sure you know. After nursing my bruised ego, I realized my editor was right and we agreed a rewrite was in order.
While I could have chosen to see this as a failure, instead, I saw it as another chance to writer better story. Because that’s what a work-in progress is: your current best iteration of whatever it is that you do. It is subject to change as you grow and get better at your craft; it’s a growing evolving thing.
And ultimately, that’s life, too.
Life as a Work in progress
Who we were five months ago is vastly different than who we were five years ago. Just when we get comfortable, life changes, and so do we, because change is the only constant in the universe. But growth is seldom linear. Like a river, its path winds back and forth, forking this way and that way. And much like a story, we can lose the plot and need to reorient ourselves. But we’ll get to the end if we persevere.
Due to the virus, writers and other creatives have had their livelihoods disrupted, be it their publishing dates being pushed back, not being able to have in-person book launches, speaking events or book signings; or attending writer’s conferences and book festivals. But like everyone else we’re adapting.
Everyone is now doing virtual events, which means more people can attend and participants in these events, leading to more opportunities for networking, meeting and gaining new fans and new sales. With these changes comes growing pains as people deal with new responsibilities like managing zoom calls, or in my case web design and graphic design, but we’re managing this work in progress.
Change—whether spurred on by external forces such as COVID-19, or internal ones, such as insights from meditation or therapy session-—can be scary. Often it is the fear of failure that stops us from even trying, but the epiphany I’ve had during quarantine is this: life is a work in progress. Regardless of failure or success, keep growing into the best version of yourself and creating the best work you can at your current skill level.
Conclusion
January is also the time when we make New Year’s resolutions aimed at improving ourselves, most often by losing weight/getting in shape. My top resolution this year is to become a published author and to establish myself as a freelance writer and editor.
To that endure, I’ve revived this blog and have worked to redesign this site. This process hasn’t been easy.
Many times, I’ve given up in frustration at trying to style it exactly how I want it, but I keep at it until I find a solution or jury rig one. It’s not perfect, but it’s a work in progress. Gradually, I plan to dip my toes in the water of freelance writing and editing.
As most of you probably know, resolutions fail to stick because people lack accountability, so I’m asking you to hold me accountable.
If I don’t post at least once a week, send me an email or message me on social media and tell me to get back to work. I’ll do the same.
COVID-19 is a plot twist most of us didn’t see coming. There will more pandemics and natural disasters as climate change intensifies. No one knows the future, but none of that matters, because there is always hope.
Ultimately, our lives are our greatest work in progress. And regardless of what will or has happened to us, if we hold the pen, then we determine how our story ends.
Thanks for reading.
Call to Action
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Let me know in the comments.
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Heartless
I make ice scorching.
My heart has forgotten love,
It cuts diamonds.
Untitled Love Poem
Always and forever,
Though I endeavor,
I’ll never do better.
I’ll do whatever
To get us back together.
I miss your kiss,
A ghost on my lips,
Light as a feather
Against my skin.
This love is a battle I know I can win,
So I’ll fight to the end
And never surrender.
Long Time no Post
Hey, everyone,
Sorry for the lack of updates. I bought a new car and to help with payments I got a job, which doesn’t leave me as much time to write, let alone blog.
So, I’m going to experiment with writing shorter posts, say a few hundred words, post more poems, post book reviews, and try splitting longer post into smaller ones.
I’ll also be posting updates about Palingenesis, my dark fantasy/ sci-fi WIP.
Sex
Knees bent,
But cheeks spread,
Look out prostate,
Here I come.
Afternoon delight.
An Ode to Physics
Physics is the poetry of motion.
Apply a force (F) to a mass (M), and you’ll produce an acceleration (A) every day, per Newton’s Second Law.
Once in motion, that mass will have kinetic energy, per K.E.= 1/2 M V^2, where V is velocity.
See, physics is the conductor of the cosmos, per Einstein’s Field Equations, which I won’t list here for the sake of those of a less science persuasion.
It’s the pied piper of particles, master of the ocean’s motion via Newton’s Law of Universal Gravity (F= G [M1*M2/ r^2], where G is the gravitation constant and r is the radial distance between the masses.
Physics is the destroyer of worlds, the cracker of the atom per Einstein’s Theory of Special Relativity (his famous equation E=MC^2).
Physics lays bare the heart of the universe.
I don’t mean to geek, but we are all children of star dust.
And once we shuffle off this mortal coil, we will return from whence we came to continue the great comic dance.
For the First Law of Thermodynamics states: energy can neither be created nor destroyed, merely transferred or converted from one form to another.
From one star brother to the another, the beauty and elegance of reducing the universe to a series of equations has no parallel in heaven or hell.
It’s the music of creation and makes my heart swell, the ringing of the universal bell and knowing exactly for whom it tolls.
Word to your mother, there’s no limit to the wonders physics can produce with a few formulas and numbers.
Update and a Poem
Hey, sorry I haven’t updated in a while. I’ve been dealing with some mental health issues, but I’ve talked with my psychiatrist and am doing better now.
To make up for not posting, I’ll post a new poem every day as part of National Poem Writing Month.
So here’s the first one called “An Ode to Summer.”
I can hardly breathe or believe you’re lying next to me.
You are summer personified, your legs entwined with mine.
I’ll never forget your meteor-shower hair, your sunflower-scent
Your eyes aglow, fireflies dancing to a song only we know.
Your skin, caramel ice cream; your face, a vision from a dream.
Your watermelon lips, kisses so sweet they ought-ta be a felon.
Your smile, radiant as the sun shining on us as we strolled, hand in hand, sand beneath our feet.
While I could praise your booty–I mean beauty from here to eternity, this poem has come to an end.
But summer will come again.
The Man Who Cried MAGA
Introduction
For those who haven’t been following the Jussie Smollett case, several weeks ago, the Empire star claimed two hooded men wearing “Make America Great Again” hats assaulted him late one night, while he was on this way back from a Subway shop in Chicago.
He claimed the men called him racial and gay slurs, made reference to this being “MAGA country,” fought him, and then poured bleach on him and put a noose around his neck.
However, in the weeks since he first made this claim, police have arrested two men in connection with this crime, whom it turns out were Nigerian extras on the show Empire and knew Mr. Smollett.
Furthermore, these men allege Mr. Smollett paid them $3500 to fake the attack because he wasn’t happy with what he was being paid.
Now, I’ll reserve judgement until more facts come out about this case, but it doesn’t look good for Mr. Smollett.
IF He Lied
If this incident does turns out to be a hoax, then Mr. Smollett should not only serve jail time for making a false police report, but he should pay restitution, plus interest t to the Chicago Police Department for all the resources they wasted on his case.
Moreover, by lying about this incident, it makes it less likely that investigators will believe the victims of actual hate crimes, and more likely that people will carry out hate crimes based on the belief they won’t get caught, and if they do, they can just say their victims are lying.
He owes an apology to the Black community and the LGBTQ+ community, two marginalized groups with overlap that continue to be victimized.
By playing upon both racial fears and homophobia in this attack, Mr. Smollett ratcheted up the already tense mental states of people from these and other marginalized groups who have been on edge ever since Mr. Trump’s election, which combined with his inflammatory rhetoric and support of white supremacists and neo-Nazis, has led to a sharp increase in hate crimes.
Now every marginalized person will have the worry at the back of their minds that if they are the victim of a hate crime, will they believed? And all because Jussie Smollett wasn’t happy with his paycheck and cried wolf.
Furthermore, if Mr. Smollett lied about this attack, he will have played right into the narratives some on the right have about liberals being unscrupulous liars who will say and do anything to denigrate Mr. Trump and his supporters, and then play the victim card when things don’t go their way.
Conclusion
I don’t claim to speak for either the black or LGBTQ+ communities. I’m simply stating my frustrations at Mr. Smollett’s alleged actions. As a queer black person, I could readily put myself in his shoes, and I know many others could as well, which is why the possibility of his lying is so infuriating.
If this was all about money, he could have taken many other routes that didn’t involve staging a hate crime.
He could have held out until the end of his contract with Fox, and then played hard with them, or he could have left Empire and joined a show that valued his talents.
Leveraging social media, he could have had his fans threaten to boycott Empire and Fox unless they paid him what he thought he was worth.
Crowd founding a project starring him for Hulu, Amazon Prime, or Netflix is another route he could have taken.
Mr. Smollett could have also started a patreon account and shared exclusive demos and songs with his followers if he was so strapped for cash.
He didn’t have to pull this hoax, if that’s what this turns out to be. And he didn’t have to play on people’s fears in such a visceral and heinous way.
So if this is a hoax, then I say to him, “Fuck you!”
Call to Action
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T
Living While Black
You throw on your favorite hoodie, gather your things, and go to the corner store to get a few days’ worth of groceries.
Even though the store owner jacks the price up on everything, you still shop there because the closest grocery story is twenty minutes away and you don’t have a car.
And even if you did, you couldn’t afford the car payment, insurance, and gas because even though you work two jobs and a side hustle, you’re broke two days after payday.
On the way to the store, you pass a white woman; she glares at you, pulls her purse tight, and then crosses the street. It’s not the first time this has happened to you, nor will it be the last.
You shrug and carry on, but then a cop car passes and you slow your step, holding your breath until it drives by.
You pick up the pace until you get to the store, where you remove your hoodie, but the person behind the register still eyes you cautiously.
You ignore him, get your stuff, and add a bag of skittles and an ice tea to your order.
After paying, you’re down to twenty dollars until next Friday.
You go home to find a message from your mother saying your uncle Jules has died and the funeral will be in three days. It’s too late to request a day off from your jobs, and you couldn’t afford the greyhound ride there and back, so you ask your mother to take plenty of pictures and send them to you.
After eating a meal of over-processed food, you shower and change for work, then walk to the bus stop; you’ll spend the next two hours transferring from bus to bus before getting to your first job, working minimum wage at a big box store.
Your coworkers are mostly lower middle-class white people, and when they don’t think you’re in earshot, they let loose nigger jokes, only to be all smiles to your face.
You’ve been at this job the longest but have only received a twenty-five- cent raise. Meanwhile, Joe, who has only been there two months, was promoted to assistant store manager.
You shake your head but continue stocking the shelves until your boss tells you to go work the register because Leanne is out sick with another of her “family emergencies.” Given that it’s Monday, you surmise that said family emergency had something to do with her friends Jack Daniels and Natty Light.
She’s come to work hungover several times, yet when you came in a only few minutes late, your boss ripped you a new one and docked your pay for the day.
You force a smile as you ring up customers, ignoring their rude behavior and condescending attitudes because you’re not moving fast enough for them.
You get through your shift without killing someone, and thank God for small miracles.
You clock out, walk to the fast food joint across the street, and get two items off their dollar menu.
You finish eating, catch the bus home, shower, and then head out to your next job working sanitation engineering for a hospital. It’s just a fancy way of saying you’re a janitor.
You do your job without complaint, only to come home and find a past-due notice for your student loans.
Life wasn’t always like this.
You did well in school and had dreams of becoming a mogul Like Russel Simmons, Diddy, Or Jay-Z. However, you quickly found that if you weren’t willing to suck up to the old-moneyed white establishment and play the roles they deemed you were worthy of, you got nowhere.
So, you told your boss to shove it up his ass and quit.
But all those years of business classes didn’t go to waste; you’ve used your marketing skills to build a brand as the go-to weed dealer in the tri-county area, and you’ve been saving up to start your own medical marijuana dispensary, and selling weed on the side until then.
You know that if the police catch you, there won’t be any community service, probation, or house arrest. You’ll just be another statistic of the Prison-Industrial Complex.
But what choice do you have?
Even when you were hobnobbing with the upper crust in your $5,000-suits and custom-made Italian Leather loafers, people looked down on you and assumed you were a server.
You have ramen noodles and a candy bar for dinner. Afterwards, you turn on the news to learn white police officers have killed yet another unarmed black person.
Sure, people will protest, but yet again, the cops will get off. Assuming they’re even charged in the first place.
Not for the first time you wonder how a country that was founded upon the words, “We hold these truths to be self-evident, that all men are created equal, that they are endowed by their Creator with certain unalienable Rights, that among these are Life, Liberty and the pursuit of Happiness,” could treat you and others less than dirt.
Then you remember when Thomas Jefferson wrote those words he was rapping Sally Hemmings, one of his slaves, and that blacks were only three-fifths a person for the purpose of the census.
Like many, you thought the election of Obama would have eased racial tensions and marked an end to America racist past. However, all it did was give racists a convenient target to project their hate upon.
And now when you or other black people bring up things like institutional racism or the school to prison pipe line, you’re told you’re stirring the pot because if America was so racist why did they elect and then re-elect a black man president?
You shake your head.
One black president doesn’t make up for the centuries of slavery, Jim Crow, red lining, and the continued discrimination and bigotry against black people.
You turn the TV off and go to bed, hoping tomorrow will be better.
Conclusion
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Update
Introduction
Hey there, you’re probably just as shocked as I am that I updated this blog (assuming you’re not a spammer, in which case welcome to the new improved blog. But more on that in a minute).
The Road so Far
When I started this blog, I had no idea what I wanted to write about or even what type of writer I wanted to be, and consequently posted any old thing on here. To disastrous effect, I might add.
However, the thing is, I’m not a professional blogger, nor do I want to be. My interests lie in fiction and creative nonfiction, and that’s what I’ve been busy writing over the past few years.
However, I need to build an author platform, a part of which is this blog. So rather than half-ass things by posting a bunch of shit I’m not interested in writing and you’re not interested in reading, I want to post quality stuff that I’m passionate about and which I hope you’re passionate about, too.
What’s Next?
Here’s my game plan going forwards. Fiction and creative nonfiction will still be my jam, but I’ll post at least once a week on Wednesdays.
What to Expect
I’m passionate about geeky queer stuff and diversity in the media, so you can expect reviews of books, movies, video games, comics, animated films, manga, and anime.
You’ll also find posts about writing and writing related stuff such as snippets from my works-in-progress; characters sketches, aesthetics, and play lists; short stories, poems, and essays.
Call to Action
If this sounds like a blog you’re interested in following, click here to sign up for my mailing list, or you can follow me on Twitter
Thanks for reading this and have a Happy New Year!
The Box
Introduction
The following piece came about due to a particularly bad bout with depression about three years ago. I’ve had other depressive episodes since then but am doing much better now thanks to medication and therapy .
One again I sit here, some procedural cop drama or reality show blares on the TV, but it’s just white noise to fill the void. I tried sleeping but the chaotic energy coursing through me won’t let my brain shut off. Three years have gone past in an instant, but what do I have to show for it? Hour after hour I wait. For what, I don’t know.
Another night spent at a bar downing cheap beer just so I can feel normal for awhile, but in the end I wound up in the corner, as everyone else had fun. Why do I do this to myself? Why do I bother going out when I could be surrounded by a million people, but still feel as if I’m an alien.
It’s 3AM and I click on another profile. Why bother, girl or guy it makes no difference. Sorry not interested; sorry not into chubby guys; sorry, insert excuse here. Not smooth enough, young enough, hung enough, or the right hue for you to screw—oh go spew. Here’s something new: I want more than a paramour or to be your whore. Sex is great, but how about a date? How about a life mate? Who am I shitting? It’s my wrists I should be slitting.
Not like I haven’t thought about it before, not like anyone would care. Sure, they would be sad, but no one would miss me. What’s the point of living if I never participate, but then why do I hesitate?
I look down at the scare along my arm and the answer is clear. Fear of everything: being different, rejected, alone, and being a failure. A brief moment of pain and it’ll all go away, but no. I trace the scar and remember the operation: thirty seven stitches, no anesthesia or pain killers, and too many blackouts to recall.
But I survived it and countless other operations. Six months in a comma, months more learning how to walk and talk again. Through it all I survived. Even when every breath was a battle I never gave in and if I do now then it was all for nothing. I can’t, I won’t. Because then they’d win and I won’t allow that.
I will stand and fight for a place of my own. And if I’m the only in it then so be it. I’m so much more than the characters in a box, then my stats or pictures. They can try to label me, but I’m done caring what anyone thinks, I’m going to be me.
If I fail then it won’t be because I didn’t give it my best. If no one ever reads a word I write then so what. I still wrote them and they will always be a reminder that I existed and, Goddamn it, I mattered. Yes it’ll be hard and I won’t always know what to do, but I’ve spent too long in this box already. Yeah I’m scared, but I’ll take one step and then another until I get to where I’m going.
If you or someone you know is contemplating hurting themselves contact the National suicide prevention lifeline at 18002738255 or on the web at suicidepreventionlifeline.org
How Music Can get Your Creative Juices Flowing
Introduction
I don’t know about you, but when I write I need some background noise to keep me going. And when thi
ngs aren’t flowing right, or a scene isn’t coming together like I want it to I listen to some music and usually that does the trick.
One track mind
But it has to be the right track for the scene. For angsty scenes my go to is Linkin Park and I’m transported back to my teenage years. For fight scenes I like to listen to hard rock and metal tracks to amp the energy up.
Often I’ll listen to a song on repeat until I’m done, the music painting a mental picture in my head that I try to translate onto the page. I’ve found that certain songs evoke specific emotions like sadness, anger, joy, etc and that helps to get into my characters’ head.
Change It Up
When I get sick of a song or when it isn’t working its magic I hit shuffled on my Iphone and just write. Often I find this helps to break up the monotony and get me to focus on the scene in question as the music fades into the background.
When the Music Stops
For me the best writing is done after getting in the groove. Usually this is after I’ve been writing for awhile and the whole world fades away, and it’s just me and my laptop. Then I don’t need the music anymore. The words just flow from my fingers and all is right with the world. Those are the days you live for but sometimes they are few and far between.
On the days you struggle to write try listening to music and coming up with stories to go along with the song. I find this gets the creative juices flowing and helps you to ease into your writing session.
Conclusion
The right type of music to make you soar, or bring you to our knees. It can help you make out a scene or give you that creative spark that you’re lacking. So next time you’re in a rut pop on some music and get to writing. For more tips on writing click here.