Sunday, September 21, 2014

Oh for fuck's sake!

     Here I sit, all broken hearted… not really. Psyche! Basically, I’m just sitting here pondering, getting into trouble, which normally happens when I’m somewhat bored. This is the first day that I’ve actually had to myself in quite some time. I got as much done as I could and am now waiting on edits to come back. Once that happens, it’ll be back to balls to the wall, so I’m going to enjoy this little respite while I can… or so I thought. 

     The phone rang. I didn’t recognize the number, but I answered it anyway. Here is how the call went...

Me:      Hello? 

Caller:  Hello, my name is blah blah. We are with blah blah group and are conducting a survey about the political views concerning blah blah and blah blah. I was about to just hang up on the twit, but there was something about his voice. 

Me:      Oh? Caller: I’d like to ask you a few multiple choice questions. 

Me:      Okay. 

Caller:  Which candidate do you think blah blah blah…(Like I’m really listening to this…) 

Me:      What’s your name again? 

Caller:  Blah blah. So which would best suit your answer? Blah blah blah. 

Me:      So Mr. Blah, what are you wearing? 

Caller:  *quiet hush, then laughs* Oh, like that commercial. I’m supposed to answer khakis, right? 

Me:      Are you? 

Caller:  No, actually jeans. 

Me:      Cool. 

Caller:  Would your answer be A...blah blah, B…blah blah, C…blah blah or D…blah blah. 

Me:      (personally I don’t really give a shit.) “D,” I said, because I liked the way he said it. 

Caller:   Next question: Do you like, A…blah blah blah, B…blah blah blah or C…blah blah blah. 

Me:      Are they tight? 

Caller:  Huh? Are what tight? 

Me:     Your jeans. Are they tight? 

Caller:  Umm…I don’t see… 

Me:     (This is where I go in for the kill.) I bet they’re nice and tight. If you’re going commando I bet I could see the head of your dick. Bet it would taste good too. 

     Can you believe it? He hung up on me! Why do I have the distinct feeling I won’t be hearing back from blah blah group again?

     So… Here I go… into FB world to see what’s going on. Not been on there a lot lately because I really have been very busy. I see that I’m tagged in a post, so I go have a looksee. “…Max doesn’t watch porn.” Well…yeah, that’s pretty true. What’s in my head is usually much better last time I checked. There’s this one memory where a football player was actually…uhhh, I’m gonna save that for another time, I do believe. 

     Anyway, the comment was correct. They were talking about this one porn guy, who I’m sure my Smut Slut friend would know instantly. Of course I was clueless. So I decided to go have a look. 

     Okay…the guys were hot, and yeah, I threw some wood…didn’t last. First off, I really don’t want to look at some kid, who’s all shaved, waxed and plucked within an inch of his life. Hell, I’m pretty sure I had shoes older than this young, young man. Then I noticed something. The kid had no clue as to how to really suck dick. I backed the thing up and watched that small portion again. Yeah, the boy is clueless.

Uhhh, no. Just looks stupid. I'm not a pedophile which is what this reminds me of.

     Meanwhile, the guy, who was a bit older and closer to my type, but not quite, was wailing and caring on, telling the youngster to ‘suck my cock’ and so on and so forth. *YAWN* I was about to just shut it down but I made myself stick with it. 

     They move onto the fucking portion. Start off doggie style… more yawns. Now why is it that I got my balls snatched from a reader because I forgot to do the whole finger stretching thing but these guys are able to just jump right into, the water’s fine, move and no one says a word? Double standards, ya think? 

     So there is more wailing and grunting and carrying on. I swear, if I’d had a bottom making that much fucking noise, I’d find a ball gag, or at least a fucking sock to stuff in his mouth. Listen, I’ve done my share bit of fucking and I’ve yet to hear that much fucking noise while screwing some ass. Trust me…I’d remember that shit. 

     They flip to missionary, butt in the air, more pounding…yawn. Onto the side, then boy is on top, where he pops a load on the other guy’s chest. By this time I’m ready for nap. I’m yawning my fool head off. 

     Other guy flips, the kid starts to blow him, moaning and groaning the whole time, like he was still getting fucked or something. I could just imagine what was going through his head. ‘Won’t this yahoo please just get off so I can go get cleaned up, collect my money and take a nap?’ Moan, moan. Grunt, grunt. The other guy finally takes over jacking off, because the kid seriously can’t suck dick to save his twinkie little life. Busts a nut on the kid’s face, who is still moaning and carrying on like a wanton whore from some cheap dime-store high shelf book. Serious eye-roll. Really? Didn’t even try and lick it up or nothing. Mouth clenched up shut like some five year old refusing to take a dose of cough syrup. Dumb-ass. 

     I go back to FB and check the thread that I’d seen to make sure it was the same film that they had been discussing. Yep, I had the right one. Really? That’s what y’all think is hot gay sex? Shit…them boys need a man to teach them a thing or two! I thought that maybe this was some of those gay-for-pay type flicks. I go check. Nope, they’re gay. 

     Holy shit, do these kids have a lot to learn and I do mean a LOT.

     What happened to the Joe Gage’s of yesteryear? If y’all want to see some really hot man-sex porn, check out some of the classic, like El Paso Wrecking Company for one. Closed Set might even be better! That had grown men doing the nasty the way it’s supposed to be done! There’s nothing better than hot, sweaty, animalistic sex between real men who know what the fuck they’re doing. It’s dark, sweaty and fucking hot. 

Here it is in it's entirety!

     The older Falcon stuff was also pretty good, once you got through the pretty boy stuff. But damn, even then, those guys knew how to fucking suck dick. Sheesh, at least put some effort into it and quit screaming like some painted-up Barbie wanna-be female porn slut. By the way… I did mute that damn thing before it was done. My eyes were crossing it was so irritating. 

     So, I don’t get it. To me, these are children who need to have their butts wiped and put to bed at 9 p.m. and for sure sent back to school. Get a little life experience under their belts, and then try again. 

     Surely not all gay porn has turned into this…this…pansy ass crap. One day I’ll bolster myself to see if I can’t find something that is a bit more my tastes. Till then, I’ll keep my fantasy about the football play in the locker room that after his shower…okay, gotta go now. 

      Here’s my message. You know what to do. 

     See y’all next week,


Because I fucking like it, that's why!

Sunday, September 14, 2014

Serenading a Mule

     As many of you probably noticed, I didn’t do a blog post last week. I kinda-sorta had one, but it was another depressing thing, and I just didn’t think it was a good idea to do three maudlin posts in a row, so I just left it. I guess it goes back to my mother saying, “If you don’t have anything nice to say, shut the hell up.”

     Of course she is also the one who said, “This isn’t Burger King. You take it my way or do without.” I actually found a trivet one time that had that slogan on it and got it for her. Sorry to say, it got broken years ago. Oh well… moving on. 

     I have no idea where this is going today, so I’m just gonna ramble along and see what pops into my head. 

     Right now, I hear Dante yelling for his breakfast. Now Dante – and I love Dante - is a donkey that lives here. He is so funny. He’s out there with all these really nice horses, and the poor thing tries to keep up. He runs almost like a bunny hops, his ears laid back, and his short, stubby legs just gettin’ it. Just too funny to watch and of course is always the last one there for dinner. 

     Oh… that reminds me of a story about my sister. She also has a donkey, a silver one named Jackson. Now he is a lot like Dante, but not as friendly. Anyway, she was trying to get Jackson from the back pasture to the one in the front. He was having no part of it. We all know what they say about mules, right? Stubborn? Yeah, well he was having a moment. 

     Here is where I have to give you a little background on my sister. First off, she’s a redhead, a true redhead with the temper to match and is as stubborn as that damn donkey. She’s also only about five feet tall. So here she is, pulling and tugging on this damn big-ass donkey and he’s looking at her like “yeah, right.” The more she tries to get him to move, the madder she gets. 

     She gets to the point where she lets him go and stomps into the house. A few minutes later she comes back with MY cattle prod. Yes, I have one. No, you can’t ask why. Anyway, she is trying to zap this damn donkey, but the batteries are low. He just laughs at her, but he still ain’t moving his fat ass. 

     By this time, she is so mad there is steam coming out of her ears. I’m standing there laughing my ass off. She goes back to pulling on the lead she’d put on him. The clasp broke and she went tumbling backwards into a fairly fresh pile of manure. That did it. She lost it. She called that damn mule everything but what he was. Like that fazed him. Not. 

     Finally she got up, her backside covered in crap. Of course I was doubled over, laughing hysterically, which only made matters worse. She gave me such the evil eye. You know the one that says, ‘I wish you were dead right now.’ I’m surprised I didn’t drop dead right then and there. My sister took that cattle prod and hits that donkey so hard on his back side, the damn thing bent. I guess the impact of the hit was enough to shake that battery up to get the last bit of juice out of it. She zapped Jackson with full power and damn, did that donkey move. 

     He brayed his head off and ran for the barn faster than I’d ever seen him run. Yeah, I was still laughing. My poor sister. Her face was so red I thought she was gonna have a stroke. She came at me with that cattle prod and I high-tailed it right after Jackson. I turned to look back, just in time to see my wonderful, loving, kind, sweet sister take a nose dive. And yes, you guessed it…right into a pile of shit. 

     By this time, Jackson had made it to the barn and was standing there as if nothing had happened, braying his fool head off. I swear, it sounded like he was laughing, as was I. Oh hell, was she mad. She came at me with that cattle prod and tried to zap ME with it. Thankfully, that battery was dead as a doornail. 

     She threw it on the ground and stomped off, into the house. When I got there she was in the tub. I could hear her in there just cussing up a storm. Yeah, I was still snickering when she came out. I got another evil eye. She didn’t talk to me the rest of the night. 

     This was some years ago, and we laugh about it now. She’s still never replaced my cattle prod. I think I may give her a new one for her birthday, and then take it back. I think that’s a great idea, don’t you? 

     Uh-oh. Just saw a post on FB about the whole thing about women writers doing M/M genre…again. Will this ever die? I know I’ve touched on this before, but for some reason this subject just always tends to come up. I know I’ve given my opinion before, so I’m not going to go into it again. At least not right now. 

     What I am going to say is that I am an elderly gay man who has been sexually active long before the AIDS epidemic. Fuck, I’m old. I’m fairly sure that I have been as adventurous as most gay men, if not a little bit more. (Oh hush up, Patty-Cakes. I can hear you cackling from here.) Okay… a LOT more. Okay? Now quiet down. 

     The point I was going to make, before I was so rudely interrupted, was that when I write a story, it is from a gay man’s perspective. I basically write for gay men. Now hold on a minute before you get all mad at me. I do try to take into account my entire audience, so there are a few things I do and don’t do, to keep most readers happy. Or I try to, at least. Of course I still get the ‘Ewwww’ factor quite a bit. Yeah, men are pigs. I fully admit that. 

     On another thread this week there was the question raised about the post-sex coital. An author asked, ‘Do you like pillow talk after a sex scene?’ The replies were all over the place. So I stuck my two cents in, of course. I commented, ‘Do you want romance or real? If you want real, then there isn’t much talk after. The poor guy just wants to either eat and/or sleep.’ That’s just the reality of it all. Well, unless they are like eighteen or something, and then give them a few minutes and then they’ll be at it again. Then for sure, sleep. This whole idea of the lovey-dovey after sex cuddles and sweet talk is all from a female perspective. Face it, ladies. After a guy pops a nut, he’s tired. And younger guys are both hungry and tired. That’s just the way it is. 

     I think what really gripes my ass the most though, is women who will leave a review telling me how wrong I got a sex scene. Uhhh, when did you grow a penis, lady? For those of you who know me, you’ll know I’m not a huge porn fan. For the most part I find it pretty boring. So when I write a sex scene, more than likely I’ve been there and done that. I don’t go searching around porn sites for research. Again, been there, done that, have the T-shirts. Yes, plural. So yeah, I kinda know what I’m talking about. So don’t go and try and tell me I got it all wrong. 

     Now then, I’m friends with a lot of female authors. Most of them do a pretty good job in writing M/M erotic romance, including sex scenes. What I find funny is that they start talking about all these porn stars. I’m like, who? One particular friend of mine knows the names of all these guys and about their lives and so on and so forth. I look at her, my eyes blinking, basically stunned. Hell, she knows more about gay porn than most gay men I know. Well, there is this one guy, but he is a total perv, who may know as much as she does. Does that make her a perv too? You’re damn skippy it does! I affectionately call her my little Smut Slut. 

     After reading these two threads, I was chatting with another gay male author. We voiced our own opinions and then he asked, “What do women get out of seeing two men kissing?” My simple answer? Hell if I know. 

     I’m a gay man. I’ve always been a gay man. I know what flips my switches, and that is men. So it only seems natural for me to see men going at it. To me, that is just everyday life and has been for many years. I can only assume that it is like some straight guy that gets off on two females together. Okay, still don’t really get it. 

     So what is it, ladies? What is the attraction of seeing two men together? Come on. Tell me. Who knows, it may go into a story. Call it research, but I’d really like to know. Don’t be shy. Speak up. 

     This past week I helped a friend move. Even though we worked hard we had a good time. We laughed and sweated our asses off. At one point we were laughing so hard we were crying. Hell, we couldn’t tell if the other was crying or sweating. At any rate, we were soaked. It was all good, and we got her and her son all moved. 

     Thing is, when we were clearing out the garage, the teenaged son said he didn’t want this bicycle that was stuck in there anymore, and was going to toss it onto the trash pile. I hate waste. I was raised by a depression baby and the last thing we ever did was throw something away that was still usable. I snatched that bike up and put it in the back of my SUV. There’s a little boy down the street whose family is dirt poor. The other kids in the neighborhood pick on him terribly, probably because he is poor. I was thinking I’d get the tires replaced and have it spruced up and bit and give it to him. It really is a nice, expensive bike. 

     I told a good friend and he said I was a special man for even thinking of that. You know what, I never think of things like that. I saw a decent bike and knew of someone who could use it. No big deal. It’s just what I do. So later today, after my ball game, I’ll take it to a bike shop and get that done, and next week I’ll give it to this kid. 

     Y’all know how I keep on about doing for others; well this is just an example. I didn’t think about it, really. I just did it. No biggie. However, y’all can see how these little things can make a difference in someone else’s lives. It is not going to cost me much of anything, monetarily, and only a little bit of my time. 

     Will it make a difference in the young man’s life? I hope so. Perhaps he won’t feel so left out when the other kids go riding down the street on their bikes. Not only will he have one of his own, he’ll have a really nice one. 

     YOU can make a difference. Have a little compassion. Before you start bitching about how bad you have it, think about others who have it a hell of a lot worse and then do something about it. You’ll soon forget about the crap you may be going through and feel better about helping someone else. It doesn’t take much. Trust me. In the long run, you’re doing something for you, not just someone else. It never hurts to put some karma coins in the bank. 

     Till next time, 


Just because I can. ;-)

Monday, September 1, 2014

Dirty Dozen Blog Tour! Yes, there are freebies to be had!

     Hey everyone. Here’s a bonus for you guys. Now who doesn’t like a good ol’ cornfed, beef loving country boy? Yeah, I know I do. Meet Carter Quinn, y’all. A fellow author whom I’m sure you’ll love. He’ll be at GRL this year. 

     This is part of the blog hop that some of us supporting authors have going for GRL. A lot of talent here, so follow along and keep up. Oh and yeah, there’s free stuff too! 

     Okay, Carter, you owe me a beer and that kiss you know where… And heeerrrreeeee’s Carter! 

     Bio: Carter Quinn was born and raised in a very small Western Kansas town where cattle vastly outnumber humans. He began spinning tales in fourth grade. After high school, he shelved his creativity in favor of a career. Now that he knows gay fiction doesn’t have to be depressing, he’s told Corporate America to kiss his books. Carter lives in the Denver area, near his beloved Colorado Avalanche. 

     Dirty Dozen questions & giveaway items… 


TM ~ What inspires you most when you are writing? 
CQ; Being outside and having music playing. One or the other is essential. If I can get both, I’m a happy boy. 

Tempeste ~ What brought you to write m/m? What keeps you writing in this genre? CQ: As a gay man, my mind has always worked with m/m pairings. I think this genre is big enough for me to explore all sorts of stories between two men who are or have fallen in love. 

Carter ~ Of all the characters you've written, who is your favorite and why? 
CQ: Do I answer my own question? I love Avery (Out of the Blackness). When he first whispered to me, he was so incredibly wounded and shy. To be able to help him come out of that state and learn to love was a tremendous gift. I’m looking forward to seeing him again in his sequel. 

LE ~ Many of us have pen names that we use and there are an infinite number of ways and reasons behind them, but I doubt many of them reflect the names we wish we’d been born with. If you could micro-manage the ultimate do-over, what birth name do you want? What nickname? 
CQ: I was named after my father and his baby brother, so I’ve actually never felt my name belonged to me. I’m sure if you’d asked me this five years ago I could have had an answer, but now that I’m also Carter Quinn, I don’t feel the need to alter my own. 

Morticia ~ Name one unusual fact about yourself that you think your readers would be surprised to learn. 
CQ: I studied Russian History and World War I 

Rafe Haze: "What do you do that most injurs the progress of your writing, and why do you do it?" 
CQ: Not doing it. Because I have an avoidant personality, so if I have a problem with a plotline or a character, I’d rather ignore it until it works itself out in my head. 

Jeff ~ If you had to trade writing for another creative pursuit, what would it be? 
CQ: I would love to be able to sing or paint. 

Max ~ In one sentence, write the beginning of a sex scene using some kind of food. Think of it as your hook. 
CQ: “Honey, do we have any cherries?” (I know. I’m a tease.) 

Wade ~ Name one of your favorite characters of all time that someone else wrote. Can be M/M or any genre. 
CQ: Unquestionably Matt from Marie Sexton’s Promises. He makes me quiver. 

JC ~ If you could be one of your characters, who would you be and why? 
CQ: Trick. He’s an NHL goalie. What’s not to love? 

Diana ~ How many versions of a book do you usually write before you arrive at ‘the one’, and how does your editor impact that? 
CQ: The characters change my initial idea of the story as I write so the final product is never exactly what I intended. I’d say I have an ugly first draft, then a more polished second and it’s done. 

Ethan ~ If you came with a warning label, what would it be? 
CQ: Warning: Boring in real life 

Giveaway: Carter ~ ebook copy, winners choice 

Upcoming Release: Vanished, coming September 17 Henry Cooley has good friends and a good life. He’s secure in his job and his relationship. He and Tom, the love of his life, are about to celebrate their twenty-first anniversary as a couple. Their son, CJ, is in his second year at Cal Arts. Henry's only problems are his growing dissatisfaction with his job and the fact that Tom's parents still hate him, even after all these years. At least those are his only problems until the morning he wakes up to discover Tom has vanished. 

Available for pre-order here: 

Out of the Blackness 
The Way Back In the Crease (free read on website) 
I’m Every Goalie (free read on website) 
 Contact Info 
On Twitter: @Carter_Quinn 

     There are three different Prize Packs up for grabs for this giveaway. Enter below via Rafflecopter, winners to be chosen and contacted at the time the blog hop ends. Good luck everyone! 
     E-book Extravaganza Prize Pack! Authors JC Wallace, TM Smith, Tempeste O'Riley, Max Voss, Diana Copland, Ethan Stone, Morticia Knight, Wade Kelly and Carter Quinn are each donating ONE e-book (winner's choice) to this pack!! 

     Triple Hitter Prize Pack (all e-books.. Hat Trick from Jeff Adams, Dare to Love Forever from JC Wallace, The Library from TM Smith) 

     Don't go home empty handed! e-book copy of Dare to Love Forever from JC Wallace

Click the link below to enter.

Saturday, August 30, 2014

It's a sad, sad day...

     I didn’t do a blog post last week mainly because I was just so busy and I ran out of time. My time seems to evaporate right before my eyes. Where does it go? Why am I not getting all the things done that I really need to get done? I think I’ve caught the ‘squirrel syndrome’. See something shiny, and I’m off to the races. Not today though. 

     Today, I’m sitting here looking at this vast amount of white space and my mind starts to wander. Right now, I’m just sad. Why? I think that there is just so much hurt, violence, political crap whirling about me that I just want to turn the world off. 

     Those who know me know that I tend to be a bit of a news junky. I like to know what is going on around the world. I know first-hand that what happens halfway across the world can have an effect on me and the way I live, as well as others around me. Today it just makes me sad. 

     I’m sad that our education system is now a complete train wreck because of this ‘No Child Left Behind’ crap. It was doomed to fail, and it has. No one wants to admit it because of the billions of dollars spent on it. Again, it comes down to money. Bonuses for teachers, administrators and others only cause cheating in the system, which it has. So sad. They have sold out our kids is the way I see it. Our poor teachers are suffering terribly because of it as well. 

     I’m sad that a longtime friend felt it was okay to lie to me and break a trust that took years to build. Not only is the foundation of that friendship now cracked, I feel used on top of it. That is a real bummer. I guess it wouldn’t have been quite so bad if it hadn’t happened with another friend, or who I thought was a friend, earlier this summer. Perhaps I trust to easily? Probably. 

     I’m sad that someone pointed me to one of the pirate sites where I saw several of my books had been downloaded, more than I’ve sold, for free of course. I guess these people don’t know that I need new brakes on my car. I’m sad because people are making hats and scarves for homeless kids in Chicago for Gay Rom Lit. Isn’t growing up hard enough without having been tossed out like yesterday’s trash, by those who you are supposed to be able to trust? To have what should have been unconditional love withdrawn, leaving them vulnerable and perhaps open to abuse for the rest of their lives. Not only does it make me sad, it sickens me. 

     I’m sad that some people do not want to open themselves up to new experiences, to learn, taste, hear or feel new things. To constantly gravitate or keep a death grip on things that are comfortable, refusing change. I’ve always said that knowledge is power. It is a power that no one can ever take away from you. Yes, my head is full of useless trivia, things that I will probably never need, but I cherish those bits of information. To me, it is part of life’s little experiences that makes living fun. 

     I’m sad that some people think power comes from money, position or social status. Real power comes from what you know and those you love and for those you help along the way. Real empowerment comes from what is inside of us, not what comes out of our wallets or what we are wearing or even who we know. 

     Earlier this year I received a hug from another male author, a big burly bear of a man. His not quite scruff, not quite beard, rasped against my own bearded face. His large muscular arms enveloped me, pulling me against his firm chest. He had a clean masculine scent that surrounded me. For that brief moment I closed my eyes and sighed, the world fading away. It was over way too fast. I wish I could have that same hug right now, only longer. Never underestimate the power of a hug! 

     What I would like to do today is lie on the couch, eat a bunch of junk food and maybe watch some really depressing movies with my razorblade charm bracelets on. Let the dogs curl up around me, feeding them popcorn while lying beneath a thick black blanket trimmed in dark blue. Keep all the blinds closed, blocking out the rest of the world, but I’m not going to do that. Instead I’m going to go out and pick up a few things for a small care package that I’d started putting together for a family in need, who could really use a little moral uplifting. If that doesn’t improve my mood then I’ll think about making scarves and hats to take to Chicago. 

     Never do unto others what you would not like done to you. Live with your eyes open to others needs. Never stop learning new things, no matter how trivial they may seem at the time. Always remember to stop and take in the wondrous beauty of nature’s gift to us. Remember to be kind or at least respect all living things. Make sure to tell those you love that you do indeed love them. Instead of saying ‘I need’, look to see who may need it more and then try and give it. It is a gift to yourself as well as to who may receive it. 

     Until next week, 


Sunday, August 17, 2014

Oh What a Week!

**NOTE: After writing this I had some doubts as to whether to post this or not. I had a few people read it through. Some said no, but most said yes. I didn’t want to come off as whiney. I am so not that. I don’t like to whine and no one likes a whiner. Anyway, here goes. 
Thanks everyone.** 

     Howdy y’all. Here goes another week and yet another blog. Funny how last week I struggled with coming up with a topic, and this week, it…well it came rather quickly, unfortunately. It’s been a rough week. 

     I happened to read another blog which addressed some things that spurred me to remember things that I’d rather not remember, but that wasn’t happening. It is like turning on a light and then trying to recapture that light. That isn’t possible, and neither was the rush of memories that came and hammered my head into submission. 

     What did I read you ask? It was about a young boy who was gay bashed in high school. I could relate. I was also. I also happened to get thrown into the dumpster next to the kitchen. Eeewww. But that was where the similarity ended. He somehow thought it was his fault. I never felt that way. Of course, being outted in the seventies was no picnic either. It was pretty rough there for a long time. Tires slashed. Locker painted pink. Another dumpster visit. A good ass kicking. Yeah, it was tough, but at no time did I think it was my fault. Never even crossed my mind. 

     I’m not saying that he wasn’t justified in his feelings. We each have our own way of dealing with the crap other people put us through. I felt very sad that he thought that way. Of course it wasn’t his fault. It was a bunch of insecure youths doing stuff that hopefully they will regret the rest of their lives. Oh, and trust me, they do. They have a huge amount of guilt, well most of them, for a very long time. Karma’s a bitch that way.  

     I also told a longtime friend, for the first time, of my sexual abuse. I think I mentioned it here briefly a long time ago. Well, only touched on it. It isn’t that I’m ashamed of it, or try to hide it. It was a long time ago and it happened and that’s kinda all she wrote. Not something I go back to remember. Why? It wasn’t pleasant. It isn’t something that pushes its way into my conscious. It…just happened. Move on, and I did. My friend gently pushed for details, so I told her. When I was 6 my parents divorced. My father knocked up my sister’s best friend and then married the girl. His third marriage. So he left us. He didn’t pay child support or alimony or the car payment. Things were tight for a while, but my mother trudged on. Anyway, I went to spend the summer with him when I was eleven. 

     He was doing the track circuit by that time, racing horses. He needed to take his horses and the ones that he was training to Montreal. We were currently in Maine. So he basically dumped me with these two college age guys, the sons of someone he knew, for two weeks. Yep, you guessed it. It was a long two weeks. In case I need to explain it to you; I was raped repeated during those two weeks. Orally and anally. The day he was supposed to pick me up he called and said that he wasn’t coming. That the two guys were going to take me to the airport and send me on home so I’d be sure to get there in time for school to start. They did take me to the airport. Of course there was one more ‘party time’ to be had first. I didn’t see my father again until I was sixteen, and that was the last time I saw him. I told him what had happened and he called me a liar. Yep, last time. Never saw him again. 

     Which leads to another thing that pissed me off: I found out that a father was willing to leave his family, destitute, for another woman. Some men are just pigs. As if that wasn’t bad enough, the mother has decided that her eldest son is to raise the youngest son. The father said okay. He wouldn’t fight for him. H just wanted him every other Christmas. 

     Sorry, but I came unglued. Wasn’t even willing to fight for his own son? Really? When will people realize that children are not disposable? Now, realize I think that this probably for the best, since the jerk has done what he has in the first place, but still. I can’t even wrap my head around that one. Just, okay. That’s fine? Yep. He didn’t even flinch I was told. I actually had to go and take a nitroglycerin pill my blood pressure shot up so high. I’m sorry, but that man needs to be neutered. 

    Then I get some more news that just made me see red. I blind Army Veteran is being put out of his mother’s house by the stepfather because he is gay. Right. Not so fast there. It gets better. Not so much because of that, but because this guy wasn’t willing to hand over every cent he had. Yeah, it came down to the money. Yeah, well, he is leaving and keeping his money. He will be much better off without having to deal with that dangling, bleeding hemorrhoid. 

     The topper to my week? Oh, yeah, there’s more. Told you it was a bad week. A friend of mine blatantly lied to my face. I can take all kinds of things. I really am a strong person. But when someone can so easily lie to me, and break that trust, then I’m pretty much done. Not only is that trust gone, but there is the hurt and that is far worse. For me, when I trust and love someone, I do it all the way. But when that is violated, it fucking hurts. I’ve already been through this once this summer, and then to have it happen again? Yeah, I’ve not been so pleasant to be around this week. I think this is why I’ve become such a recluse. 

     I honestly will give anyone just about anything they want if they truly need it. Hell, I’ve even given the shirt, coat and socks off my body for someone in the middle of winter! I really will try and help anyone who needs the help. However, they need to be willing to help themselves also. At least make the effort. I’m all for giving a hand up. I’m not going to do handouts. 

     Yes, I am strong. I never thought about it. Never had to. I take of myself and anyone else who needs me, as much as I can. But do not take advantage. I guess I take after my grandmother and my mother in that regard. My sister is the same way. We are strong individuals. We were a strong family. My sister and I are still very close. Actually, we scare my brother-in-law, which I find rather amusing. Just don’t try and fuck us over. I’m warning you, she’s red-headed and can shoot a twelve-gage from the hip! 

     Even with everything that has gone to shit this week, I am still optimistic. I will still go out and try and do something good for someone else. It is as much for me as it is for them. It makes me feel like I’m a better person. Who knows, maybe I’m earning Karma bonus points, like I get gas points at Winn Dixie! 

     There is a song that has been going through my head today, and I’m going to share it. Here is a link with Tennessee Ernest Ford, who I met as a youngster. There's another story for another time. I also found the sheet music. Maybe some of you will be able to sight read it or play it for yourselves. It was my grandmother’s favorite hymn and she told me that if I lived my life like this, everything would work out. I still believe her.
In case this link doesn't work.
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     So just do it. Go forth and do something good for yourself and someone else. Amen. 

     Here’s to a better week, y’all! 


 Sorry, no sexy picts this week.

Sunday, August 10, 2014

A New Beginning

     Well here we are again and here I sit wondering what the hell to write about today. I haven’t had a clue until a reader asked how long I’ve been writing. As most of you know I have pretty much covered this, a few times. Maybe what I haven’t covered is why I retired. Some know, some don’t.
Yeah, I wish I looked like this.
     I am now just shy of my fifty-fifth birthday and I am retired. That may be over simplifying it. I was forced to stop working and go on disability. Now, before everyone jumps to conclusions, I did everything within my power to not stop working. I went to doctor after doctor. I did the acupuncturist. I did massage therapist. I followed every doctor recommendation. Nothing was working. My feet were simply shot from standing on them for over thirty-two years on concrete.

     Years ago, when I first started working in professional kitchens, and I use the term loosely for some of the places I worked, there were no such things as fancy pads to stand on. No one warned us to get better shoes, other than sneakers. Of course, in your teens and early twenties, you know everything anyway, so most of us probably wouldn’t have listened. It wasn’t until many years later when I went to culinary school that it sunk in that I was killing my feet. What I didn’t realize was the damage was already done, I just didn’t know it yet.

     Side note here: I went to culinary school years later because for me to advance, I needed that little piece of paper. I may need to do a separate blog about going to school so late in life. I had a blast, and that is all I am going to say for now. 

     Anyway, back to the story at hand. I really was at the pentacle of my career and having the time of my life. I’d gotten much further that I had ever thought I could go. I loved my job. I was doing something that I truly loved. It didn’t hurt that I was finally making really good money. It’s amazing what a difference that little piece of paper did. Yet another reason I push education. 

     Yeah, well that ended and rather abruptly. I had my first heart attack at age forty-nine. That set me on my ass for a while. Between that and the feet, I was done. I might need to also say here, that it isn’t just my feet but my knees also, although not as bad. Oh, and now the ticker. I had my second heart attack three years later. It was worse than the first. 
Yeah, I wish my doctor looked like that!
     My doctor sent me to a Social Worker and she got me all fixed up and sent off all the forms to Social Security. Now I had been warned that it sometimes took several times to apply and that I may have to appeal the decision, not only from the Social Worker herself, but from others who had been unfortunate to go through the process. One guy told me, while sitting in a wheelchair, that it took a year for him to get approved. To prove how bad a shape I was in, I got a positive response in only six weeks. Yep. I have a train wreck for a body. 

     I was damn lucky. I had already emptied my savings with paying all the doctor bills. I then cashed in my 401K to pay other bills and to have a little something to live on. That first year after quitting work was the worst year of my life. Not only did I feel like crap from the heart attack but I was depressed because I really missed my job, and the money. 

     Like most jobs, once you leave, the friends you had slowly start to fade away. After all, you’re not part of the group anymore. You don’t know about the daily grind and the things that went on “at work”. Yeah, I had a few friends outside of work, but the majority of colleagues I had been working with or had worked with in the past. Trust me when I say that the people in the food industry are a tight-knit group. Well, tight-knit until you’re no longer part of the group. 

     Basically, what I’m saying here is, I was looking at losing everything I had worked for because I didn’t have a paycheck. I was sitting in a house that was quickly going downhill because I couldn’t take care of it, alone. I became so depressed I truly thought of suicide several times. I felt worthless. I couldn’t do anything and I am the type that can’t just sit still and do nothing. I later moved into an apartment, which was killing me. I hated it. 

     That is when I was contacted by an online friend (about the only friends I had at the time) who said there was a woman who needed some advice and a beta reader for a book she was writing. It was a crime/romance type thing that had a couple of gay guys in it. She wanted to make sure that the two gay guys were true to life. 

     That day changed my life. I felt somewhat useful for a change. We became friends and she sent me a few books. Then she said that there was a whole M/M genre and that I should check it out. I did. What I found was a plethora of books that I could relate to. Okay, for the most part. Many of them made the same mistake as my new friend had made and tried to put a dick on a chick. There were some good ones out there and then some really rank ones. I became a reviewer for a short while. I wasn’t very good at it. I have a tendency to speak my mind and I don’t hold back. Not a good thing if you’re reviewing books, I found out. 

     So this friend pushed me into writing. She really pushed me. Made me join a writing group which pushed me into writing very short shorts. I’m talking five hundred words or less. That was tough. BUT I did master that. I got very good at it actually. I then wrote a short story and the moderator of the group pushed me to see about publishing it. Yeah, right. That’s going to happen. Well I’ll be damned if they didn’t take it. I made $25.00! Woo-hoo! 

     Hey, it wasn’t much, but it gave me some hope. I was pushed some more, this time from another woman. This little English woman pushed, and pushed, and then pushed some more. See, I had written several other short stories and a novel of sorts. Okay, maybe it was more of a novella than an actual novel. Anyway, she pushed me to self-publish a short story and then another one. I wrote another novel and it went over pretty big. Oh hell, it was number one on Amazon for a short while in gay romance. I was over the moon! 

Now this is the way to celebrate!
     That first published short story saved my life. Even though this hasn’t been the easiest last few years, I’ve learned a lot. Made a lot of new friends and have had a good time. I also was able to go to Paris, a lifelong dream of mine. I must have gained ten pounds in a week! 

     I would just like to thank those who pushed me, encouraged me and took the time to help me. Without you, I don’t know that I would be here. 

     This is a good time to say it. You know what I’m gonna say, don’t you? Yep, it’s that time again. If this doesn’t prove to you that what you do can help someone along the way can make a difference, I don’t know what will. Even the smallest of things can give someone hope. Lift them up just enough to get through another day. May even safe a life. I know this to be true. So please, take just a moment to do something nice for someone. It doesn’t have to cost anything except a little time. Believe me, you will benefit from it as much as the recipient, if not more! 

     Have a great week, y’all! 


Yep, just because I can!