Event: Litquake Reading in the Castro

Scott James, whom you should all remember from interviewing me for that story in the NY Times and for coming on to Magnet Book Club to talk about his novel SoMa, has invited me to do a reading as part of Litquake, San Francisco’s weeklong literary festival.

Litquake in the Castro takes place on Saturday, October 6 at 1pm (the day before Castro Street Fair). I will be joined by fellow LGBT writers and poets Meg Day, Daphne Gottlieb, Brontez Purnell and Rob Rosen.

The cool thing about this reading is that it’s going to take place outside in the midst of the Castro, Jane Warner Plaza, where the F train turns and the nudists sunbathe. And since this will probably be the only time I will ever be asked to do an event outdoors, I am contemplating doing a very special reading of Confessions of a Boy Toy. You’ll have to come check it out.

Litquake in the Castro: Saturday, October 6 at 1pm in Jane Warner Plaza in the Castro.

Excerpt: We Shouldn’t Do This

A few seconds later he began rubbing his butt up against my thigh and caressing my lower leg with his feet. And when I rolled over and started spooning him and running my cold hands up and down his torso, he didn’t flinch away. I heard him exhale. Not only had he taken off his shoes before slipping into bed, way before the movie even began, he had also taken off his shirt and jeans. Meanwhile fully clothed I laid, even though you know how much I hate sleeping with my socks on.

Andrew exhaled again, and I started fingering the elastic on his boxer briefs and getting down close to his crotch. But then I stopped. He noticed I stopped. And I turned over and closed my eyes — tired, drunk and stoned. But then he rolled over and got so close to me that I could feel him breathing on my cheek as he poked my hips with his knees. And when I turned my head to look at him, waiting for an explanation, he didn’t look away. So I kissed him, and he kissed me back briefly, softly, before he closed his mouth, recoiled back gently and said, ‘We shouldn’t do this.’ 

Excerpt, Confessions of a Boy Toy