Have you ever felt like you needed something to feel better, but that thing was terrifying to you? I do, all the time. I’m terrified of getting top surgery. Not because I think I’ll regret it, but because of all of the things that could happen. I’m a non binary 21 year old. I was blessed and cursed with a very femme face, and an ass to boot. (All the puns intended.)
It was 1987, the height of the AIDS epidemic, the US government turning its back on gay and bisexual men, the visible formation of ACT UP, and the coming out of an 18-year-old Catholic, suburban, queer kid with as many hormones as he had guilt.
In the late 1970s and early 1980s, I wrote and published a lot of fiction. Well, “smut,” actually — erotic fiction, although, truth be told, I prefer the term “smut.” My smut appeared in Drummer, Malebox, and Folsom magazines (all of which I also edited for a time) and elsewhere.
Thankfully I made it home safely. I fully expected to be taken into custody when arriving in London. Because I have broken the law.
Way back in 1980 I was living in Pittsburgh, PA. One of the guys I went to high school with was living in Washington, DC and had been begging me for several years to move down there.
I first met Karen through Facebook in August 2010, when Facebook used to suggest friends for you.
I am a woodworker making small boxes and pens.