SGL Café

Dancing with Taylor Siluwé

Chatted with Cleavester Brooks for SGL Weekly. Check out the interview as I discuss Dancing with the Devil, activism, and Bugzilla!! SGL Weekly - Dancing with Taylor Siluwé Also, join the Dancing with the Devil Facebook page ~ Stay informed! Be a fan!

Open publication - Free publishing - More taylor siluwe

Exquisite Corpse

Only Poppy Z. Brite could have written it. And its the 2nd novel I dusted off with my new Kindle. Andrew Compton is a London serial killer who fakes his own death to escape prison. He finds himself in New Orleans, in the backyard of his American counterpart, Jay Byrne. After a delicious courtship dance, the two set their sights on a beautiful Asian drug-dealer named Tran. Luke Ransom, Tran's misanthropic ex-lover, may be the only one capable of saving Tran from being their most exquisite corpse ever. This story—well, this tale of interlocking love stories, with two of the principle players being serial-killers obsessed not only with death and pretty boys, but also their freshly deceased remains—has to be the most disturbing love story ever written or told. Not for the faint of heart, for sure. If you like being disturbed, like I do (though there were points where I wanted to put it down to catch my breath), then his is the book for you. I read somewhere that Exquisite Corpse is under option for a film. Don't know if it's been made yet, I haven't heard. But I shudder to think of what the film version would do to this nihilistic tale of lust for "lissome queer boys", blood, and the slow ascension unto death, and yet I'd be there on opening night, as eager and excited as our serial-killing duo was to invite Tran over for 'dinner'. ~~ Interesting tidbits about this amazing author, who I've always wondered why she wrote about gay men so much, and so well.~ from Wikipedia: ...Born a biological female, Brite has written and talked much about her gender dysphoria/gender identity issues. She self-identifies almost completely as male, but makes no attempt to dress or appear male and does not expect to be referred to as "he".[1] Brite is comfortable with the term "non-operative transsexual". Yeah. Blew me away too. I fell in love with her when I read Lost Souls way back when. Her lusty vampires stayed in my subconsious and only recently did I re-discovered Poppy. Her gender issue only makes me love her more. ~

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SGL Café review ~ Basketball Jones, by E. Lynn Harris

The world of professional athletes is ceaselessly fascinating. Because of this we shower our stars of sport with every accolade, but just as quickly devour them for crossing our ever shifting foul line. In his latest page-turner (or button-pusher for us KINDLE owners!), E. Lynn Harris drifts toward basketball and the events surrounding a star player—Dray Jones. Dray, it seems, has a secret. Aldridge James Richardson is the keeper of that secret and our deeply flawed narrator. In the first pages we learn that Aldridge and Dray are a couple, have been for many years, since college actually, before the NBA and the fame and the money and the societally-driven need to slam the closet door shut and bolt it tight. Soon—and, in the prophetic words of Benjamin Franklin, “Three may keep a secret if two of them are dead”—Dray’s secret is uncovered by parties unknown with blackmail on the brain. What ensues is a virtual soap opera of drama, with true E. Lynn flair, which left me exhausted and smiling in the end. I thoroughly enjoyed this romp, and for me it harks back to the E. Lynn we all met in his earliest novels. However, it’s a must-read for fans old and new. With this title, E. Lynn Harris has achieved something no other African American author has to date—10 straight New York Times Best Sellers! Huge kudos are in order. Huge!

Damages ~ by Bazhe

An epic coming-of-age tale, which happens to be true. Damages begins with one man’s journey home to what was once Yugoslavia to bury his adoptive father, only to learn his adoptive mother is also dying. As Bazhe ponders feelings of relief to be free of the abusive Communist party official he’d called his father, the reader is drawn into his past amidst the breathtaking landscapes of a disintegrating Yugoslavia. Damages documents his search for his sexual identity – through his time at the College of National Security where he refused to conform and suffered for it, to his time spent living in Turkey as a transvestite on the arm of a wealthy man - all while his country, Yugoslavia, heaved with nationalism, xenophobia, religious fundamentalism, and of course, homophobia. Bazhe’s journey takes us through it all in flashbacks as he cares for one dying mother while initiating the search for his other one. Damages is also several love stories – the love of mothers and sons that even illness and separation can’t destroy; the love of country despite all its foibles, phobias, –isms and painful history; and ultimately, the love of life itself and the journey we all take to grow and overcome our own individual, and unique, damages. ~~ * Bazhe is a writer, poet, and artist. He has published poems and short stories in Former Yugoslavia and America. His art has been exhibited in New York City. He now lives in New Jersey. He can be reached at www.Bazhe.com *

E. Lynn Harris marks 10th Best Seller!

from blacklightonline: E. Lynn Harris says he no longer does "readings" of his novels. He leaves that up to the reader. Instead, he talked about where the idea came from for the plot of the book,[Basketball Jones] which was rather interesting. A professional basketball player had asked a third party to arrange a meeting with Mr. Harris. The player, “not Don Amechi” [that should be JOHN AMAECHI] noted Harris, was Gay but closeted and being blackmailed by a family member who threatened to expose him if he didn't continue to pay. He wanted to discuss the matter with Mr. Harris. The go-between set up a time for the player to call Mr. Harris but he never called. "I'm glad he didn't call,” Mr. Harris said. "If we had talked I would've been obligated to keep his confidence.” But that situation got his creative mind going and the end result was the new novel. "This is my tenth straight novel to land on The New York Times bestseller list," Mr. Harris said. "No other African American author, male or female, has done that..." —Sidney Brinkley

Mr. Ponytail ...

As I watched him prepare to shoot up on the bathroom floor, I felt a mix of fear, horror, fascination and arousal. He didn’t tie that rubber thingy around his arm like I’d seen Diana Ross do in Lady Sings the Blues. Then again, this was no movie. “You’re beautiful,” I said. “So fuckin’ beautiful. Anyone ever tell you that?” His eyes cut up to me and sparkled; his thuggish craftiness faded. He could have been a wholesome, doe-eyed Norman Rockwell painting. “Yeah," he smiled, displaying teeth surprisingly white. “Sometimes.” He wasn’t a junkie anymore, just a beautiful young man sitting on the floor next to my toilet. Or maybe a handsome leading man, playing the hell out of his junkie role: Wardrobe had done a great job of making him disheveled, and make-up was on point too, giving him that hollow, hungry look. But as our eyes locked, I saw the real José. I wanted to bend down and kiss those lips, stroke that angular cheekbone. I wanted to peel that dirty oversized shirt from his lanky frame, massage him with lavender oil; wanted to loosen that ponytail, so I could brush his black mane until it gleamed like it was meant to. And then his hair could hang wild, savage, and tickle my flesh as I held him close, kissed him, made love to him, again and again. “Why you wanna watch this shit, pa?” “I don’t know,” I responded. He was so young, so classically handsome. I heard myself saying, “With your looks, you could be . . . do anything you want. Why this?” His innocence faded, the cameras stopped and the leading man stormed off the set. He slapped his arm like a baby’s butt and said, “Same reason you wanna watch.” ~~

excerpt from Dancing with the Devil Available 02.26.09 Press Release www.ChumaSpiritEBooks.com

Dancing with the Devil

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Charlie Vazquez ~ NYC reading / Fighting Homophobia

I got to meet Charlie Vazquez when we shared the pages of Best Gay Erotica 2008 and came together for a reading. Now, Charlie has hit 2009 running. In his own words ....

NYC reading: HISPANIC PANIC! at Nowhere in NYC ... The witch hunt is still on and I wanted to share some eye-opening discoveries I’ve made in the last few days - my newest New Year’s resolution is to become more involved, as this affects more people than one would think at first. I’ll let the piece speak for itself and wish you all the best for 2009 ~ http://charlievazquez.wordpress.com/ Charlie Vazquez

Dean Johnson's reading for Filth: Best Gay Erotica 2008

WEDNESDAY, FEBRUARY 20, 2008 8PM ~~ FREE DEAN JOHNSON'S READING FOR FILTH: BEST GAY EROTICA 2008 RAPTURE CAFE & BOOKS 200 AVENUE A http://www.rapturecafe.com/
	The queer reading series celebrates the release of BEST GAY EROTICA 2008 with editor and host Emanuel Xavier and featured contributors Lee Houck, Taylor Siluwé, Andrew McCarthy, Charlie Vasquez, Tom Cardamore and Sam J. Miller. Books will be available for sale and signing. Sponsored by NEXT and Christiania Vodka. Open bar 7-8pm.

For every Boy who ever cringed when he heard 'Faggot'

(My review of The Affectation: Overcoming Shame and Removing the Mask, by Chuma Whahid Rasul.) For every Boy who ever cringed when he heard ‘Faggot’. By Taylor Siluwé An affectation can be a mannerism, a ruse, or a grander more destructive deception. When a same-gender-lover pretends to be otherwise, for family, for friends, for church—whether for a lifetime or a single tour of duty—something unseen shivers unloved and alone. There are moments though, rare moments, when we encounter things that tap into the unseen. It can be a movie, a book, or even a soul which arrives with a cold and knowing tingle down the spine. In her best-selling memoir, Find Me, Rosie O’Donnell called it a ‘spingle’ – when your deeper consciousness knows something profound just happened. Something spiritual. I was on the PATH train reading a book ... sorta. I’d just started and I wasn’t into it yet. My mind wandered. My eyes followed. A young Latino kat got on, catching my eye, confused if he should take the one remaining seat which happened to be next to me. His eyes were warm and feminine and relinquished things he tried to keep hidden beneath a façade of thuggish masculinity. I nodded almost imperceptibly and moved my bag off the seat. I wanted him to sit. I wanted him to stay where he was. I wanted him. But he averted his gaze, leaned against the door and remained standing. I was happy and pissed and returned to my reading ... sorta. The experience was hardly unusual and not at all profound. I got no spingles. Days later I finished reading that book – The Affectation: Overcoming Shame and Removing the Mask, by Chuma Whahid Rasul. Once I’d set aside my desire to capture that beauty on the train, to fulfill a need almost as old as my birthday—to be loved by those who won’t truly love me back—I spread my mind and let Chuma have his way with it. Yeah. He fucked my head. Not in a ‘wham bam’ internet hook-up kinda way between strangers afraid to look at each other ... no, this was a slow, sweet coupling of souls who shared similar scars, similar persuasions maligned and marginalized through time. Ancient lost loves sweating in the dark and gasping for air. The Affectation is a salve for the soul of every boy who ever cringed when he heard the word faggot. It’s a book, a memoir, a fantasy, a theatrical ride conspired by Gods long forgotten. Yeah—Gods who knew me even before I did, one’s who still snuggle up to me at night, whisper in my ear and expect great things from me. It’s a seduction which aroused ideas, stroked emotions and exploded possibilities about my past and future that, let’s just say, left me panting and glowing like no hot boy on a train ever has. Well, a few, but that’s another tale. Do yourself a favor though, pour a glass of something special, set the mood and curl up with The Affectation. Let Chuma lubricate your mind with forgotten Gods and lost loves ... but prepare to gasp for air. mySpace.com/ChumaSpirit ChumaSpirit.com