So... It's been awhile...

     A long, long while it seems. So, yeah… (so Aussie) I’ve been missing in action for a several years. There has been reasons as to why that is. After careful, and anguishing, deliberations, I’ve decided to come clean with the whole story. It was not an easy decision.

Here we go…

     After moving to Australia, I had… issues is about the best way to put it. I think it was depression. Okay, it was depression. I wondered if I’d made a mistake leaving everything and everyone I knew behind. I also felt a bit guilty running off and leaving my country to that lunatic that had recently been elected to the run the damn place. But, I kept moving, slowly, so very slowly.

     Looking back, I didn’t take into account the physical pain I was in. It became worse and worse, so I finally had to do something. I couldn’t walk. I ended up getting a hip replacement.

     The surgeon said it was probably the worst that he’d ever seen. The technical term was bone necrosis. In layman’s terms, it means that the bone had basically died and looked more like honeycomb than bone. He even ended up picking bone shards out of tissue and muscle with tweezers. Oh, and joy of joys, he told me I’d have to have the other one done at some point.

     The reason for the bone deterioration came from being a chef. Apparently, those who stand on their feet on hard services often have the same issue. So, if you’re a hairdresser, chef or checkout chick, make sure you wear good shoes and stand on a mat if possible.

But wait… There’s more!

     Went to the dentist do get a cleaning and she found a small spot. The only reason she spotted it at all, was because I nearly jumped out of the chair when she went to put in those thingies for doing x-rays. She had a good look and said that I needed to see a specialist in Sydney, as soon as possible.

Oh yay! But wait… Yep, there’s more!

     The dentist, such a sweet young woman, said the ‘C’ word. Maybe. Perhaps. A possibility. Lin was so nice, she even gave me a big hug before I left.

     I made an appointment with said specialist and four days before the appointment, they called and cancelled. No dentist or dental specialist were allowed to do any kind of procedures. Covid hit. This was mid-February.

     So… there I sat… waiting for Covid to do whatever the hell it was going to do. Do you have any idea how hard it was to go grocery shopping, with a cane, masked up, gloved up and have a face full of hair? Not fun. It was so itchy, and I felt like I was being smothered to death. All the while thinking… asking… do I have cancer?

     The wait was then finally over, come April. The end of April. Let me tell you, those were some long-ass eleven weeks. Not only dealing with Covid 19, but in the back of my mind I was constantly asking myself if I had cancer. Myself, being the ass that I am, never answered that question.

     Went and saw the dental specialist in Sydney. By the way, that is a six-hour drive from where I live. He told me he needed to get two tissue samples. The good doctor and his staff were hysterical. Such a funny group. We had a good discussion on bourbon. He then loaded me up with novocaine and proceeded to cut pieces out of my mouth. Even with the novocaine, which hurt like hell, the cutting out pieces of my mouth was still painful. I thought I was going to piss myself to be honest. That was a bitch of a day. It also ended with beer and tequila.

     Now the wait. Ugh!

     I returned home the following day and waited. I tried to keep myself occupied but that was futile. My mind kept racing about what would happen and what would I do. I really dislike having anyone mess around in my mouth, nose or ears. I guess that’s why I never jumped on the cocaine bandwagon. I hated anything up my nose. And in my prior career, there was plenty of coke going around as well as other things. Nope, nothing going up my nose!

     The call came at 6:30 p.m. I knew it had to be bad for a doctor to be calling at that time of night, and it was. Bad. Real bad. The nice doctor told me that yes, it was indeed cancer and that he was recommending me to yet another specialist that specialized in this exact type of cancer and had already contacted him. I needed to make an appointment as soon as possible.

     Oh… So much more.

     Back to Sydney I went. The very next week. That was one long drive. It turns out I had a rare type of lymphoma that had attacked most of the lymph nodes in my jaw line and had metastasized to the soft tissue of the bottom of my mouth, which is why it hurt when I had those initial x-rays.

     It was bad, really, really bad. So much worse than I could ever have imagined. I’d never heard of anything like this. My prognosis was if I did nothing, the tumours, yes, more than one, would continue to grow and that I would basically suffocate to death. Or I could undergo a complex surgery that would be… horrific. It would take five different surgeons to do it.

     I’ll put it in simple terms here: What they wanted to do was to slit my throat, peel back my face, knock out all but three of my bottom teeth, chisel away the effected jaw bone, cut my tongue out, cut out all the soft tissue from the bottom of my mouth, cut skin from forearm, stick it into my mouth, oh and if they have to take most of the jaw bone, they’ll cut bone from my right femur and graft it into my jaw. Yippee!

     Here is how they outlined the recovery: I wouldn’t be able to eat any solid foods for several months, meaning at least three months I’d have a feeding tube put into my stomach and I’d have to connect a device and pour some kind of concoction in. I would be able to drink water only at first and then other watery liquids. No milk.

     Now, for those who know me, I love my milk. Always have. Telling me I couldn’t have milk was almost more than I could stand. I didn’t ask about beer, but I figured it was watery enough.

     June 18. Surgery. An eleven-hour surgery with five different surgeons and who knows how many others were in that room. I was told sometime later that it was a difficult surgery and that I was lucky.

Just a little grossness.

That is raw meat exposed!

What they cut out they stuck in my mouth!

Yeah, right. So lucky. Pfft.

     I spent ten days in an ICU with nurses constantly poking a specialized thermometer and pulse monitor into my mouth every hour. I had so many wires and tubes running in and out of me it wasn’t funny. I bet I could have wired an entire house with all that wire.

     And as if that weren’t enough, the IV needles stuck into me kept failing. Now, admittedly, I am a hard stick. Whenever I have blood drawn it usually take two or three tries to get any out. So, at one point I had an IV stuck into my leg because that was the only place they could get it. Oh, and after that one crapped itself, they put in a PICC line, which goes directly into your body. Don’t ask me how that works but they had to do it with some big x-ray type machine.

     I think it was around day three or four after that surgery that I was praying for death. I even asked one of the nurses to just kill me. I asked several people to please just kill me. I couldn’t talk. I had a breathing tube and other tubes either running into my mouth or my nose. I couldn’t drink. I really did want to just die. I remember thinking why I’d ever have agreed to this.

Oh yeah, there’s a whole lot more…

     Post ICU wasn’t much better. I was in that hospital for three weeks after ICU. Every morning, I had those doctors poking and prodding me, and yes, I do mean all of them. I still couldn’t speak, so I was using my phone to communicate as best I could. A few days later I was able to get my computer brough to me, so I then used that.

     That’s when it came to my attention that I was immune to morphine. They were trying to manage my pain with morphine or morphine based drugs. I kept telling them (typing) that I was in constant pain. It wasn’t until I completely lambasted them that they took me serious enough to change the pain medication. It took a few trial and error tries, but they finally managed it. After about four days, post ICU, I had a lot less pain. There was always some pain, but it was at least tolerable. Those were the longest days of my life, I do believe.

     In that month, I felt that I had experienced hell. There was no way I could have ever imagined such a horrifying time in my life. It was beyond measure.

Yep, there is more…

     After I was discharged from the hospital, I swapped one nightmare for another. Radiation and chemotherapy are no joke. Three days a week I was carted off to get a round of radiation and chemotherapy. I understood what it must feel like to be a piece of chicken frying. I was fortunate to not have to have large does of chemo, and that was only for about a month. It was the radiation that did me in. Six weeks of that shit. I lost the bottom of my beard. It has never grown back.

     I was never so glad to get home. I could sit in my recliner with a dog on my lap. I couldn’t pick the dog up, but at least I was home. At the point I could at least speak, although not very well. There was still a lot of swelling and having most of the lymph nodes removed from my neck, I had a lot of fluid back up that had to be massaged out. That was three or more times a day. That was fun.

     Feeding myself, via the tube poking out of my stomach was also such a joy. NOT. It smelled bad, it was messy and a royal pain. By this point I’d lost so much weight that I had to get new sweatpants. At one point I used suspenders to keep those up. I was so weak. I could barely make it to the bathroom. I was living in my worst nightmare.

     The recover was very long and painful. When I was finally able to put food in my mouth, it was like baby food, and nothing tasted right or not at all. My entire life had been constructed over what I could taste. It was how I identified myself. Defined myself. I was a chef with an exceptional palate. What I was left with was close to nothing.

     To me, it felt like someone had pulled the rug out from under my feet and a grand piano fell on me. There were times when I couldn’t breathe. Who and what was I now? Why in the hell did I ever agree to this torture?

     I was on so much pain relief that there were times I found myself staring off into space, drooling. I again prayed for death. I even tried to kill myself a few times. The only thing that happened was I barfed a lot. Talk about pain!

     Did it get better? Eventually. It took well over a year and even then, I wasn’t… me. I was lost. I saw no end and I didn’t see much of a future either. I tried to write and failed. I tried to cook and failed. I couldn’t taste much of anything. White wine still to this day tastes more like vinegar.

     I became more and more reclusive. I felt no joy. I was living in a perpetual fog. I couldn’t remember things. It was like I was living in a world of grey. That lasted for several years.

     To this day my palate is probably about seventy-five percent of what it was pre-cancer. There are times it really pisses me off. I’ve always preached about having balance in food, but when you can’t taste everything, it’s very had to achieve that. That is still the case today.

     Is there more? Well, of course there is…

     Remember that whole hip thing? Yep, the other one finally crapped itself. Broke would be a better word I suppose. Got that done without any complication. I was now the proud owner of not one, but two titanium hips! Yippee, look at me go. I have to carry a little card with me when I go to the airport declaring I have metal in my body. Woot!

     That was November of last year. I was up and walking about but still using a cane. Which leaves me to telling you about my feet. After all those years of standing in a kitchen on hard floors, it was my hips and feet that paid the ultimate price.

     Now, my feet were never all that great. I abused the hell out of them my whole life. And now it is time to pay the piper. My feet… let’s just say that it would be easier to tell you what’s not wrong with them. This year has been the worst ever though. The neuropathy has gotten so much worse and cold weather kills me. I stumble around like an old drunk.

     But I need to go back a bit. After I had the remarkable hip surgery I contracted bacterial pneumonia early in December. Another week in hospital, three of which were in ICU. I almost didn’t make it.

Okay, you know me by now… yes… there is more…

     While getting all the chest x-rays anyone could ever want, they found something else. What they refer to as a triple A. Abdominal Aorta Aneurysm. Not just one. No, I had to be the over achiever once again. There were two. The big one was five centimetres, and the other was only two. The recommendation is to do a surgery when it is three centimetres. Ya gotta hand it to me. I don’t do little shit. I have to go for everything in a big way.

     I spent four days in the hospital, between Christmas and New Year’s getting tests run. So many tests. I had three different doctors on this go round. They finally said I was fit to have heart surgery. Whoopie!

     January 3. I had heart surgery. Only one surgeon this time. In the hospital another four days. I am sooo over hospitals, let me tell ya. Now I’m being told that all that radiation therapy I had fried my thyroid. Here I am, about to have heart surgery and now I have no thyroid. More medication. I feel like I’m a walking pharmacy already, so why not load up another pill or three for me to take.

     I’m home. Still a little weak and recovering. I have to go and get a check up at the little local hospital. When I say little, I do mean tiny. Nice doctor does the usual blood draw, and I go home. Yay!

     Phone call. I need to go back to the hospital. They need to double check something. They do a quick RAT test for Covid. Pretty standard protocol these days. You guessed it. I had Covid. Not only did I have Covid, but I had a blood Staph infection to go along with it. Fuck my life.

     Back into the hospital. Intravenous antibiotics and quarantine. I was told I was lucky, again. It could have been worse had I not had the Covid vaccinations. To be honest, I had no clue I had Covid. Had zero symptom’s. There for four days.

     Came home. Something wasn’t right. I had no appetite. I ate very little. I’d lost a lot more weight. I had no energy. I started doing smoothies with protein powder, hoping that would bring my energy level up. I need to say here, that after cancer, my energy level was never the same. But now, a dead slug would have more energy that I do.

     Oh! I left out all the oral reconstructions that I had to have. Remember me saying I hated having someone in my mouth? Think of me in a dental chair for six-hour stints at a time. Yeah, that happened.

     So, this is my life now. I’m an old man who stumbles about with very little energy and almost a total recluse. I go days without speaking. I eat very little, and it takes me forever to eat it seems. Very slow. I may leave the house once a week to get groceries. My social contact is the check out chick at the local grocery store. That’s pretty much it.

Now what?...

     Well, I had this story that I’d been working on, or off, mostly off, for a number of years. I think I started it back in 2018. I decided since I couldn’t really do much, it was time to buckle down and get it done. So I did. It’s finished.

     Release date is September 8, 2025. It can be purchased via my website for one week and then general release on September 11, 2025.

Just a little tease.

Yup, you guessed it… there’s more…

     I am more than halfway done with another book. It seems I missed writing and now it’s flowing like no body’s business! This is another story I’ve wanted to get out of my head for a number of years. It’s a story that is very close to my heart. There’s a lot of me in this story. This story revolves around food and a small diner. A grandmother and people around are composed of many people I’ve had in my life.

And yes, more…

     I’ve also decided to finally sit down and write a cookbook. I have so many recipes I’ve developed over the years. Many passed down from my grandmother and my mother, who was a good cook. Couldn’t bake anything to save her life, but a good general cook.

A birthday cake I made for a neighbor.

Everything but the Happy Birthday thing is edible.

All made from sugar!

     Many chefs and cooks that I’ve worked with over the years helping me to develop my own voice with food. The last few years I’ve even taken to baking, which was something I never liked to do. But now… I have the time. The pastry chef I had in culinary school would be so proud of me. I can do one hell of a cake these days.

     These days, my life consists of me writing for a few hours each day. I putz around the house a bit. I do a little gardening when I’m not like a dead slug. I still enjoy playing in the dirt, just not to the extent I used to or want to. Little bit at a time is better than nothing. I have a big lawnmower, so I do get to ride on that. I’ve become a big fan of audio books for that reason. Now I even do laundry with headphones on!

Time to wrap this up I suppose…

     I had a hard time writing all this. I have never been one to tell my business, but this… felt like it needed to be said. I know I cut everyone out of my life, but I hope this explains part of it. A big part of it. I’ve been through hell and back a few times over the last eight years. I’m still here. I’m still kicking, admittedly, not very high.

     I’m afraid I’ve used up most of my good karma coins by now, and I don’t have much opportunity to replenish the purse, but I do when I can. I hope everyone who reads this remembers to do something nice for at least one person a day. It doesn’t take much. Sometimes, just a smile will do the trick.

     I don’t think I’ll be doing this blog once a week anymore. I don’t have that much energy to spend on it. Maybe I’ll try and aim for once a month.

Till next time…

Max

A Follow Up...

     So… It’s been a week since I kind of dropped the bomb shell with that Special Blog Post. I’m happy to announce that I’ve received nothing but support. To be honest, I did expect a little push back, but no, there was none. Thank you one and all for that. I’m not so sure how I would have handled that.
     As I stated, there are so many readers who are wonderful people and quite of few of whom I call friends. It does seem unfair that I withdrew myself from them, but I really did need to take some time for me. Betrayal is a horrible thing and that’s how I felt. Completely betrayed.
     Last year I took an unofficial type poll and asked about betrayal. It was in the form of a multiple choice. What surprised me was 99% of those who answered immediately went to the form of cheating on a spouse, lover or partner. That was somewhat telling if you ask me. What I was really hoping to see a little more of was the betrayal of friendship which was the purpose of the poll. I only got one response that mentioned that one. I found that a little unsettling.
     For me personally, I think I could handle and get over a partner cheating on me sexually more so than a betrayal of a friendship. Hell, I’ve dealt with the sexual cheating thing, and yes, while I made him pay dearly through the nose, I got over it. And yes, I did enjoy torturing his butt.
     I don’t know… there is just something that really digs deep inside me, really hurts my soul when there is a friend that I trust, confide in, open myself up to who treats that trust so casually. Or in one particular case totally trashed it and then hoped I’d forgive her. Had that been the first time, I might have done that. The last time was worse, so much more worse that I cut that person out of my life totally. I don’t want that type of person close to me. It’s just not worth it in the long run.
     Remember, there are at least two sides to every story. I was so surprised when I got the cold shoulder or completely ignored afterwards by people in the M/M community. Now, just so you know, there were only two people who I told about this break. To me, that’s something that is nobody else’s business. Obviously the other party didn’t think so. It felt like highschool all over again. I’m still not going to go into it. It hurt. It hurt a lot, but life goes on.
     Stepping back…
     I have to admit, stepping away from all social media did me a world of good. There was no drama, no bad things glaring at me, no politics and no badly behaving authors. If there some big blow up going on, I was blissfully unaware. Did I suffer from withdrawal? Nope. Not one little bit.
     Since last week I did sneak on and just have a wee look around. What I saw made me want to run away. There is was. Rants, politics, hate, angst and all the things that make me want to recede back into my hermit shell. What is one to do? How do you avoid all this stuff? Sadly, you can’t. I have yet to figure out how to return to social media without seeing all the stuff I don’t want to see. I am still undecided whether I want to jump back in. I guess time will tell.
     Other stuff…
     We had record temperature lows last week. I’m talking 27F degrees! I was freezing my butt off. My poor feet suffered the worst. I didn’t think they would ever thaw out. Unfortunately they weren’t the only casualties. Many of my poor tropical plants didn’t survive. I was so heartbroken when I saw all the brown leaves or my ornamental ginger lying on the ground, withered beyond recognition. I am hoping that I can trim some things back and they might come back. All I can do is try. Thankfully, the weather has improved and we are back to a more normal climate.
     I have this little space heater that I keep around just for my feet. The dogs and I fought over who was going to be closer. It seems they didn’t much care for that cold-ass weather either. Today, they are all outside sunning themselves out on the deck. I keep asking them if they need sunscreen. Damn dogs… they never answer. I might as well have been talking to the wind.
     The big stuff…
     Over the past few years I’ve been collecting stuff for a new kitchen: cabinets, handles, tile and other stuff. Did you know it’s expensive to redo a kitchen? If not, let me tell you, it is! But finally, I got the project started. I wasn’t able to do any of the work myself, which was the intention. However, I was able to find a good handyman who was able to get the job done. It has been long and tedious, a lot of dust, a lot of sandwiches, but finally, there is light at the end of the tunnel. Only a few more things and it will be completely done!
     When this project is completely finished, I’m going to do some serious cooking. A friend’s birthday is coming up so I think I may just have to have a little party. Can’t decide on all I want to cook, but that’s half the fun of it if you ask me. I am seriously considering throwing down a good ol’ fashioned BBQ. What’cha think?
     Around the first of the month I was able to order a case of snacks for one of my LGBT youth centers through Smile.Amazon.com. It was only $26.00, so what the hell, right? It will help with those afterschool munchies I’m sure. What have you done recently to earn some of those good Karma coins?
     Y’all have a great week,
     Max

An Explanation

     So… I guess I owe everyone an explanation as to why I disappeared for a while.

     There has been a lot going on in my life, some good and some not so good. The hurricane really did more damage that I’d initially thought, so I had to deal with all of that. I was without power for 11 days, and it was hotter than hell. Talk about grumpy.

     Then I’ve had some pretty significant health issues. I think things are going fairly well on that front for now, but having to work at it.

     I guess the big thing is I’m just tired of all the hate within the M/M community. Most of this comes from other authors, and as much as I hate to say it, it seems, for the most part, come from female authors. I’m not quite sure why, but it seems that some authors are either threatened by male authors or just don’t like me personally. I have spoken to a few other men who are writing in this genre and there are a few who have had the same experience that I have. Perhaps it is just a combination thereof. I’m not sure. All I know is that I’m pretty sick of it.

     Initially I thought of listing each time I felt slighted or treated badly, but I didn’t want to come off as some whiney bitch. What I will say is that I’ve been used, misled, lied to, catfished, slandered, accused of sexual assault, called a racist, a bigot and let’s not forget anti-Semitic! For the record, I am not any of these things. Then I was lied to and stolen from by not one but two publishers. So… yeah, I’m pretty fed up with the whole business.

     I’ve not written anything in ages. I’m talking months and months and months. Each time I’ve tried, my stomach turns into knots and I just can’t seem to do it. Hell, I’ve sat down to write this blog so many times I can’t even count how many times I’ve started. I’ve got drafts all over my desktop. I’m not even sure that this one will ever see the light of day.

     One thing that really bothers me is how badly some readers have been treated by authors. I’ve always held readers in the highest regard, or at least I’ve tried. It should surprise no author that sales are down. Personally, I think those who shell out their hard earned cash are just as tired of authors behaving badly as I am and who can blame them? I’ve heard from several readers who won’t buy an author just because of the way they’ve acted on public forums!

     I do feel bad for cutting myself off from readers, but honestly, I just needed a break from everything. Will I be able to write again? I can’t promise anything there. I’m not sure I have it in me.

     Just when I thought I was ready to try and dip my toe in the water and push myself back into things, my good friend James Vanzant committed suicide. I took this pretty hard. He’d sent out a message that bothered me so I responded and got nothing back. I called the police for a wellness check but they were too late. That is something that is going to haunt me for some time to come. I can’t help but wonder if there was something I could have done. Said something, anything? Who knows? What I do know is that I miss him each and every day.

     I have also made a life-changing decision that I am sure will shock a lot of people and more than likely piss a lot of people off. Sorry in advance for that, but it is my life and I need to choose things that are going to be best for me. I will discuss more about this at a later date.

     I knew as soon at Donald Trump was elected that my health care would be in jeopardy, and sure as shit, it has come to pass. There are so many things radically wrong with our healthcare system. Two years ago I saw a doctor in Australia with NO insurance for the same price as I see one here WITH health insurance. I’m not even going to go into medications. I will say that my medications this past year was slightly over $50,000.00 and I had to pay a hefty portion of that, or will be paying I should say.

     I’d like to thank everyone who has supported me while I lived what seems like a dream. Never in my wildest imaginations would I have thought I’d have written a book, much less several. They were stories that I enjoyed writing and I had a wonderful time doing it. It saddens me to feel like that has been taken away from me, but things change. Life is change and I will do my best to go with the flow. Will I write again? I just don’t know. Maybe one day. IF I do, I will continue to write for me first, a proud gay man.

     I hope that everyone has a healthy and prosperous new year. I also hope that we can all remember those who are less fortunate than ourselves and do something kind for your fellow human beings.

     Finally, I would like to thank everyone who has been there for me and supported me on this wild journey. It has been a blast. I’ve been able to do things that I’d never thought I’d be able to do. I’ve made many friends along the way who I will always cherish.

     Thank you all so much,
     
     Max

Moving On...

     So… these past few weeks have been a tad stressful. I can’t believe all the support I’ve received and just how much love there is in this small community. Keep it coming y ‘all. Give it all you have and then some. I think we all need these virtual hugs.

     I’d like to say to ignore those who seem hell bent on causing all this drama, but at the same time, I think they need to be called out on their crap. I don’t know. I just had to step away for a bit before I blew my top. But anyway, it’s time to move on. I know that I am.
     It’s a busy time…
     I have been so busy it isn’t even funny. I have a new audio book coming out that is just amazing. Greg Boudreaux (Greg Tremblay) has done The V Unit for me. I knew that he would be the only one who could pull this one off and wow has he blown it right out of the water. Simply amazing. It is so good I didn’t even recognize the story as one I wrote. It is that good. I could actually see the characters come to life in my mind.
     To celebrate the event, I had a new cover designed for the book. I have to admit, the old cover was pretty much crap and heavens knows, I sure caught crap for it. The French readers especially hated it, so… ta-da! A new masterpiece by the fabulous A.J. Corza. And here it is!

     Don’t ya just love it? I know I do. It fits the book so much better. I’ll let you know when it has been approved by ACX and up for purchase.
     On top of that great bit of news, I also have a new book coming out. It will be release on May 13th, so very soon. The cover reveal with me May 1st, something else for me to look forward to. I think it is a great story. Hope everyone will think so as well. I always tend to hold my breath before release day. It’s a wonder I ain’t dead. 
     What else…
     Oh, I will be doing a bit of traveling this year. I’m very excited about that. I’m looking forward to seeing old friends and making some new. I can’t wait to go back to Paris. Major book signing there on May 13th, release day. I dedicated the new book to the French readers since they were so good to me. Oh, and my absolute favorite composer lived there and is buried there. Felt natural to write a book in his and their honour.
     I will spend a few days in London. Hopefully I will have a nice surprise for everyone if things go well. It’s a secret for now, but keep your fingers crossed!
     I’m so looking forward to attending Euro Pride Con in Berlin. I’ve never been to Germany, so that is exciting. Not exactly sure what to expect, but I know others who will be going so I know that I will have a good time. Hope that a lot of readers will attend. It is always nice to put a face to those who I’ve befriended online.
     Then I will be at ShiMMer in Birmingham, UK. I know that will be a lot of fun. Sean Kerr and Joseph Lance Tonlet are already planning something. Bring it on boys. I am more than ready and can handle it. (famous last words.) Should be a blast.
     Since I have house guests this week, I’m going to cut it short today. That and I really need more coffee. Go out and attack the world with a fierceness. Do something for someone else. Remember, Santa is always watching!
     Have a grrreat week, y’all.
     Max
     p.s. Thank you everyone for the nice comments and support of the last two weeks.
            XOXO

Hurt or Pissed?

     So… today I sit and I cry. This Easter Sunday, the time of rebirth, the time of rising, I sit and I cry. I remember… I remember my Jim who lost his battle with AIDS. I remember the time… I remember…
     Because…
     Today I was so upset, so angry, so… just so persecuted. I feel so hurt and betrayed. I feel marginalized by a lesbian, a person that I fought for, a person who I was arrested for. This person told me to sit down and to shut up; a person who told me that my opinion didn’t matter and who hurt me to my very core. Me. I let this happen. It is my fault that I let this person into my inner sanctum.
     I am better than this! I am stronger than this… or so I thought. It is harder to fight the fight when it comes from within I guess. I fought for all our rights, gay, lesbian and bi. I stood, I protested, I yelled and I screamed. I passed out pamphlets; I gave out condoms, I… I was there. I… thought… I felt… my voice mattered.
     And now, I’m told that within the M/M genre to sit down and shut up? I’m told that my history, my feelings, my… existence does not matter. My contribution, the love that I had for another man, my Jim, our romance, our love that lasted for seventeen years is… is immaterial… is what? Not worthy of your acceptance? That you write about gay men and make money off our lives and you have the unmitigated gall to tell me to sit down and shut up?
     My start…
     I began writing gay fiction to supplement my income that was forced upon me because of a disability. I needed this money. I wrote because I needed to do something. Anything. I did not start writing gay romance as romance. I wrote what I know. I wrote stories that I wanted told. I wrote from my heart and the things that I’d experienced. I wrote… I wrote to keep me alive. I wrote because I needed a new purpose. I wrote because it was fun and exciting. I wrote because it gave me life. I wrote for me. I wrote my life.
     And now…
     I write for what? To be spit on from some cis heterosexual who has no clue what I’ve been through as a gay man? I write for some lesbian who I was arrested for so that she and her wife could have equal rights under the law? What cause did I give so much time to, to be treated as a lower class person, in a genre that I know so much about?
     Note: Gordon Merrick – The Lord Won’t Mind – sixteen weeks on the New York Times bestseller list in 1970. A gay romance, the first of a three part series. The M/M genre started by who? You have a degree? In what… fantasy?
     I turned my computer off. I turned my phone off. I turned… off…
     I watched ‘Milk’ with Sean Penn. I cried. I remembered all that suffering. I felt again everything that I experienced over thirty years ago. I knew what I was fighting for and this was all pre-AIDS. And then AIDS destroyed my life and ended so many lives.
     I am sorry that you, Ms. Megan Derr had such a bad experience. I’m sorry that a gay men made you feel… less than… whatever. However, how dare you tell ME to sit down and shut up? How dare you tell me and countless others to be silent when it was we, those of us who gave our time, our lives, so that you could marry a person of the same sex? How dare you put men down in your obvious hatred of anyone with a penis? How dare you lump every gay man or is it men in general, into your realm of hatred?
     In the end…
     I feel pity. I feel sorry for this poor unfortunate soul who knows so little of gay history. I feel sorry for anyone who buys into this shame, this abomination, because that is what is it. This self-gratification of sexual titillation of gay men’s lives is nothing more than voyeurism if the reader has no respect for others personal lives, the struggles, the battle that was and is still being fought just to be able to love who we love.
     Execution is still the penalty for homosexuality in numerous countries. Today, in Chechnya, they are rounding up gay men and torturing them to give up the names of other gay men, meanwhile stating that there are NO gays in that country.
     Meanwhile, the Kindle Alexander’s are quite okay with gays being rounded up and dumped into the Outback of Australia and let them kill each other off while THEY make money off very intimate details of their/our lives, not very realistically if I may add.
     I will say this…
     Tragically, it only goes to show how much we have lagged behind. We, the gay male community and those who support us have to go to truly gain equal rights. Not gay rights, but equal and human rights to be who we are. To be able to love those who want to be able to love and not be ashamed by the simple gesture of holding hands, to sneak the quick kiss, to exchange those special glances without being bashed in the head, or in this case, the gut-wrenching forums of social media by those WE have supported, by those who we thought were standing with us. NOT standing behind us, ready to push us in front of the proverbial bus.
     In closing…
     I weep because I see how far we as a human race have come and how far we have regressed. Lives matter, no matter the race, the gender or the… ____ YOU fill in the blank. Correct me if I’m wrong: ‘Love Thy Neighbor’. We are everywhere, no matter the gender, no matter the race.

NOTE: I wanted to really rant and give y’all a good what-for’ but… 
That’s all I’ve got… for now. I am going to be taking some time off since I have house guests coming this week and quite frankly, I just need to step back. 

Let Me Piss Some People Off..

     So… I’m sitting here as it’s about to turn midnight and I can’t sleep. There has been something gnawing at me for the better part of a week and I think I’m go to throw caution to the wind and just speak my mind. I know I’m going to piss some people off and well… tough. Suck it up buttercup.

     NOTE: I have said it before and I’m going to say it again. If you want stop bullying towards LGBT kids, then gay history needs to be taught. Only when ignorance is shown to be just that, only then will it be stopped.

     There was something said by a M/M author this week that at first, I shrugged and said, “Well, that’s nothing new.” and proceeded to go on my merry way. Mostly because I was really busy this week and didn’t give it much thought. But… it lingered there in the back of mind. And as I was lying in bed, trying to get to sleep, it just kept making me more and more angry to the point where I gave myself a headache and got up to write this.
     Now then, let me be perfectly clear here: I am in no means attacking this author for making this identity statement. However, I would like to point out a few things to all the women, and there have been quite a few, who have said to me that they identify as a gay man, especially in this genre.
     They clearly have no clue as to how insulting this can be to gay men, especially those who are as long in the tooth as I am. I am going to try and temper this and be as logical and as forthcoming as I possibly can and not insult too many people, which I seem to be able to do without even trying. It seems I have that talent, or so I’ve been told.
     First off, there have been gay people for as long as well… there have been people. I am only going to give the bit of history that I can attest to, since I lived it.
     Back in the sixties there was a group, founded out of San Francisco, if you can imagine that, who decided that homosexuals deserved to be treated equally and basically get homosexuality off the list of mental illnesses. They dressed in business attire and walked around carrying signs stating that they were not sick and that this was not a life style choice and blah, blah, blah. They got a little recognition but mostly they were pretty much ignored.
     They implored gay people (this was before lesbians broke off and decided they didn’t want to be lumped in with the men) to not try and shove their sexuality down people’s throats and to act like the normal moral population around them. Yeah… well, I think we all know that didn’t work.
     Here come the ‘70’s and the revolution was upon the establishment. Kent State happened, Viet Nam was in full swing and young people were really tired of being told they were wrong and basically immoral. Bras were burned, Roe v Wade was judged and damn if our country wasn’t changing and fast.
 Then Stonewall happened. Drag queens were on the national news, riots happening and… there you have it. It got right up in everyone’s face, drag queens, butches on bikes and the whole sordid queer community got right up in America’s face. The fight was on and let me tell you, it wasn’t pretty.
     I can attest that being chased down 10th Street in Atlanta by rednecks with baseball bats wasn’t exactly on my agenda that particular Saturday night, but it was on theirs. By the way, those aluminum bats hurt just as much as those wooden ones, in case you wanted to know. Eggs, rotten veggies, stones, bricks… yep, those hurt too.
     I can’t even tell you how many gay murders happened that were never reported by any news agency. Who cared? It was just another dirty faggot. Many gay bashings were never reported because there was just no use in it, so why bother. We learned to deal with it. We fought back when we could, but most of the time it was by cowards who ganged up on one or two gays and beat the every-loving shit out of them. For them, it was just sport.
     I don’t know of a gay man alive who hasn’t at one time or another held their breath, afraid that they may have said the wrong thing, or were terrified of… being themselves. Oh there may be a few who maybe in the twenties and never had to be afraid, but chances are, those are a very few.
     Back in the ‘70’s, ‘80’s and even 90’s there was a good chance of losing your job, getting kicked out of your apartment or disowned by your family if it was found out you were gay. This was a real fear and justifiably so. It happened. I saw it. I was there.
     Then we had AIDS. The President of the United States refused to say the word. During his whole term, he only said the word once and that was because he was shamed into it. But he only said it that one time.
     Our government turned their backs on us. Health insurers turned their backs on us and refused to cover AIDS. Families, friends turned away and those who didn’t were just afraid of us. Hairdressers started losing customers. Waiters were no longer needed. Not that they were sick, they just happened to be gay. People were terrified of catching ‘the gay disease’.
     It was the gay and lesbian community that pulled together and supported each other. That’s not to say there weren’t some good straight people who stood there with us, but they were a very small minority. I knew some fantastic nurses who tended to our sick and dying who went far beyond the call of duty. They became family and fought the fight right alongside us. But as I said, they were very few and very brave souls. They also lost a lot during those years, just by association.
     It was our own community who had fundraisers to pay for rent, food and medications. It was the gay community that educated and looked out for one another. Not the government. Not our neighbors and in many cases, not our families. It was us, our own that took on that job and quite often that was all.
     I cannot begin to tell you how many friends and loved ones that I lost during those years. As many of you who know me, I don’t even send out Christmas cards because of it. (This past year I did send out a few for the first time since 1990.) That is how hard it was for me personally.
     So when a woman, who is my age or younger who says to me “I identify as a gay man,” I cringe. What I want to say is… have you ever been beaten with a bat? Have you had to sit there and hold the hand of the man you’ve loved for the past seventeen years die, drowning, his lungs full of pneumonia, for which there is no cure for and no one but you gives a whole goddamn? Have you ever attended a funeral once a week for a full year? Have you ever had to call all your friends and see if you couldn’t find a place for a young kid to live because his parents just kicked him out or left on the side of he rode because his parents found out there were gay? Have you ever been afraid twenty-four hours of the day, looking over your shoulder constantly?
     This was a very real life for me and for many gay men. So when you want to say so casually, that you identify or feel like a gay man, I would really appreciate it if you would consider all the things I’ve said and think long and hard first. Does the reality of history still make you feel the same?
     I think the thing that really struck a nerve with me and what got to me the most was this one author did a semi-apology after the identify thing and then bragged about their book sales going up; book sales that depict gay men’s lives.. sort of. Of course this was only after they got called on the carpet for it. I felt as if someone had just spit in my face. Yeah, that hurt and pissed me off.
     Now, I think that I can safely say that we, the LGBT community greatly appreciate all the support that our friends and allies give us. We truly do. Our communities are stronger and much better for it. We feel safer now than ever before… for now. (I’m still holding my breath on that one for the time being.) We thank you. I thank you from the bottom of my heart, I really, really do. But please, before you make such a broad and casual statement, think about what you’re saying and who your audience is. There is a lot more to gay men than just a rosy romance with a lot of fucking in it.
     Normally, this is where I tell everyone to go and do something nice for someone else. Today, I’d think I’d like for everyone to just take a step back and do a little self-reflection. Gain a little peace, as I plan on doing.
     Have a grrreat week y’all,
     Max

Let Me Explain...

     So… I’ve not posted a blog in a few weeks. Why? Well, to be honest, I didn’t have much to say. There is so much political upheaval and discourse around that I haven’t felt like doing much of anything. That and I’ve been on a diet and that always makes me grumpier than I already am.
     But...
     There’s been something going on recently that makes me want pick up my biggest cast iron skillet and bonk someone over the head with it. Grrr… there are times when I’m afraid I’m going to chew my tongue off from staying quiet. This whole being nice goes against my grain. Hell, I’ve always had a hard time sticking to the rule of ‘if you can’t say nothing nice, keep your fucking mouth shut.” That really is difficult for me.
     Let me explain…
     Thursday and Friday of this week, I asked two simple questions and asked for feedback. The question on Thursday was:
So, let's talk cheating...
is cheating...
a. having sex with someone other than your partner?
b. going behind your best friend's back and stealing their ideas?
c. copying others work?
d. convincing others that your side is the only true side when having a dispute with someone else.
     Wow… I wasn’t expecting such a response. The majority of you said all of the above. A lot of you delved in a bit on the first one with it being an open relationship. Some said that while D was underhanded, dirty, gaslighting (whatever that is) and just wrong, but didn’t think it was cheating. Of all the responses, only two (I think) were men. That’s a pretty overwhelming majority saying that all would be considered cheating.
     Then on Friday I followed up with this question: Okay, so yesterday I asked about cheating, that got a lot of good response, Thanks for that! Here is a follow up question.
     Once that trust has been broken, can you get it back? How willing would you be to trust them again?
     Whaooo Nelly, old onto yer horses!
     Damn, when y’all git your dander up, you sure enough go for it. At this precise moment, (with only two men chiming in) 98% of you said that trust could not be regained. Wow! I think most of you jumped to the conclusion of cheating sexually on a partner. Some of you gals are harsh. LOL
     Now I’ll explain…
     Sometime ago, I had a friend, someone I considered a close friend do me dirty. Of course she doesn’t get it, or does she. Deep down, I think she does. Anyway, it was a real breach of trust, especially under the circumstances and previous conversations. It was backhanded, underhanded and even sidehanded if you ask me. Backstabbing? Maybe not quite that far… at that point, but yes before all was said and done, I’d say it was.
     Now, let me also add that this wasn’t necessarily the first time either. I shared a story idea and I’ll be damned if she didn’t turn right around and write the damn thing. I let it go. I didn’t say anything. But from that point on, I didn’t share story ideas with her. For the most part, I just felt used, used on sooo many different levels. With so many of you saying that trust is a major issue for you, I don’t feel quite so bad in turning my back on this person. I actually feel even more justified.
     What the…?
     ‘Sigh’ This person has started making overtures to win me back over. It’s not going to happen. Fool me once, shame on you. Fool me twice and your ass is done. Unfortunately, I’m just too trusting a person. It has come to bite me in the ass so many times, and I never seem to learn. But once it does, I’m done.
     The funny part…
     Oh hell, you would not believe the private messages I got after that first post. Lawd have mercy… LMAO Ya gotta love people in this genre. They can be so kind and so loyal. I do love y’all. Some thought I had somehow slipped up and gotten a boyfriend who then cheated on me. Yeah… no that didn’t happen. I’m tellin’ y’all now, I’m almost virginal! I promise you that!
     Then some thought I was going to write a book about it. It wasn’t an idea at the time, but now… I’m not sure. Maybe? I had one fellow author just up and tell me not to do it! It’s be a huge mistake. I’d never recover from it! Yeah, well I was told that about doing a book about incest too. Funny that the thing was a huge success and still sales well. Anyway, now y’all know the whole story.
     Moving right along now…
     Is there anyone out there who doesn’t know I’m going to be doing a book tour? Well if you didn’t, I’ll tell you now. Hey, y’all, I’m doing a little book tour. Upcoming Travel Schedule:
London – May 5 thru 10
Paris – May 11 thru 17 I will be doing a book signing on the 13th so please, come find me.
Venice May 18 thru 23 – Party with readers on the 20th (strippers appreciated! He he he)
Me time May 23 thru June 19)
Barcelona June 16 thru 19
Berlin June 20 thru 25 Euro Pride Con. Hope to see a lot of y’all there!
Birmingham, UK – July 1 for ShiMMer book con. If you would like to pre-order books for any of the cities listed, please follow this link. I cannot guarantee books will be available if you don’t.

Book Preorder Form

     So there ya go. If you want to find me in any of these fine cities, just let me know and we’ll do a little get together. Y’all know I’m always up for a cup of coffee.
     That’s about all I got for now. Go be happy. Make someone else happy. Have sex.      Have a grrreat week, y’all,
     Max