Monday, September 17, 2007

True Heroes

Where the hell were these great guys when I was getting the crap kicked out of me in high school?

The Grade 9 student arrived for the first day of school last Wednesday and was set upon by a group of six to 10 older students who mocked him, called him a homosexual for wearing pink and threatened to beat him up.

The next day, Grade 12 students David Shepherd and Travis Price decided something had to be done about bullying. "It’s my last year. I’ve stood around too long and I wanted to do something," said David.

They used the Internet to encourage people to wear pink and bought 75 pink tank tops for male students to wear. They handed out the shirts in the lobby before class last Friday — even the bullied student had one. […]

They also brought a pink basketball to school as well as pink material for headbands and arm bands. David and Travis figure about half the school’s 830 students wore pink. […]

"The bullies got angry," said Travis. "One guy was throwing chairs (in the cafeteria). We’re glad we got the response we wanted."

David said one of the bullies angrily asked him whether he knew pink on a male was a symbol of homosexuality. He told the bully that didn’t matter to him and shouldn’t to anyone.

The Feeling is Mutual

Gotta share this too-sweet-for-words post my pal, partner, and love, Sage Vivant, just posted on her own Sex, Stories and Silliness blog:
M. Christian is more than just a prolific writer. More than just the most original voice in the erotica genre. More than just the man I am lucky enough to call my boyfriend.

He loves boobs!

And so do I, dammit. And what's more, I think that more is better. (Which is good because my own are pretty formidable.)

Anyway, M. Christian has started "reprinting" via his blog the columns he's written for various Web sites over the years. They never fail to entertain, and are yet another testament to his quirky worldview and beautifully twisted perspective on everything from tits to fetishes to politics.

You gotta love this guy. But hey, hands off. He's mine.

Thursday, September 13, 2007

The View From Here: Breasts

(the following is part of an ongoing 'column' I did for Suspect Thoughts, and, no, it's not supposed to make sense: only be weird fun)

I bought a pair of breasts the other day. I’d been putting it off for months – general hemming, hawing, that kind of thing – but then I walked by a body shop, you know, that pseudoskin place down on Maholley Terrace, by the baby fat bakery, and there they were in the window: two of the most gorgeous set of tits you ever did see. Now I know what they say, that bigger isn’t always better, but I’ll tell ya, it’s only the folks who’ve got stuck with little bitty titties are the ones sprouting that kind of stuff. Size, I’ll tell you, is where it’s at.

So I go into the place right, just to get a feel for them – you know what I mean? – and like a pot-bellied nursing fly this sales drone latches right onto me …ssssuuuuccckkk! I had to whip out my pocket knife and ease the blade between his lips and my skull to break the suction. Soon as he’s free – leaving a mean-ass hickey, too – he starts right into it: a hardcore, non-stop, subliminally packed pitch: “Icansee(buy) thatyou’rethe(buy) kindaguy(buy) whoknowsquality(buy) merchandise.”

Lucky for me, my little neighborhood has recently become a spawning group for telemarketers, the ground thick with their gelatinous offal, egg-cases crackling underfoot, so I’d dowsed myself with cheap-ass perfume to ward off their greedy suckers. Once the smell of the stuff got to his ridiculously under-sized brain he’s quivering eyes lost their luster and his lips sagged down to his waist. “Yeah,” he gurgled through his flaccid sucking organ, “what you want?”

I nodded to the hooters in the window. “How much for the tits?”

He signed, his soft body rippling with the action. It was so disgusting I almost wished I hadn’t cheapened myself before becoming – excited he would have sucked by brain out of my skull trying to remove my wallet from my pants but at least he didn’t fart, burble and quiver like three-day-old birthday pudding. “That’s (sigh) the special. Three hundred goobahs.”

I slapped him hard across what passed for his face, sending his sagging organ whipping around his body at least twice – ending with a disgusting smack when his drooling mouth slapped against the side of his head. His cloudy eyes cleared just a bit so I snapped my hand down to his right hip and slugged his secondary sexual organ. Now completely clear, his eyes jerked and buzzed angrily with the stab of pain. You have to teach these parasites whose boss, you know?

“Don’t give me that feculum,” I growled, kicking him in his distended digestive tract. There was obviously a Paramecium World restaurant nearby, because he expelled a good three and a half bowls of wriggling cilia in red sauce: a venerable geyser of clear, watery flesh and crimson fluids that roared up, hit the ceiling, and rained back down -- pelting the entire establishment in greasy, half-digested Catch of the Day.

“How can I help you, Sir?” he managed to say between loud, sloppy licks of the walls, floor, management, other customers, and me.

“Like I said, I’m interested in the tits in the window,” I said, scraping saliva off my new shark-skin jumper.

“An excellent choice, sir,” he said, belching loudly, the action setting his entire body to quivering with a heavy wave-action. I was momentarily fascinated by him, hypnotized, by the rolls of loose flesh and the way they undulated up to the top of his head – momentarily covering his beady-eyed face with greasy skin. “The finest quality of breast there is.”

“How much?” I repeated, knowing that the ballistic discharge of a meal had most certainly purged his memory as well: our previous conversation just a residue on the harder-to-reach corners of the place.

“For you, fine sir, just two hundred and fifty goobahs,” he said, smiling. The effect was disturbing in the extreme.

I swallowed my revulsion and my own breakfast of immature college graduates and slapped him again. This time his face only wrapped partway around his tiny skull – and I filed away the fact that either these guys were getting tougher or I needed to work out a lot more.

“What was I saying? My goodness, I must have forgotten my brain today! I mean to say that those choice items are currently being offered for the special price of two hundred goobahs.”

Luckily I’d remember to shop armed, so I was able to drop the price down to a hundred and fifty by shooting him in the foot. He made the most delightful piercing scream – shattering every toe and fingernail in the place – as he jumped up and down, thin, yellow blood bubbling disgustedly from the wound.

“Sold,” I told him – pointing my weapon between his tearing eyes in case he had any thoughts about offering insurance or, heaven forbid, gift wrapping. Posthaste, my new boobs were out of the window and into a travel-bubble. The creature was even quite civil as he accepted my squirming pile of goobahs and fed it into the maw of the banking worm.

So that’s how I got my tits. Spectacular, aren’t they? I do have to say that I am quite, quite pleased with them – but, to be honest, while they’re loads of fun, I have to admit that the actually shopping was more fun that the tits ever have been. Funny how that is, ain’t it?

Monday, September 10, 2007

Better Than a Hole -

If you have a bit of time, and want to read about people who like to drill holes in their heads, check out the SF side of the great Dark Roasted Blend site for a little piece I did on trepanation.

Yes, you're expected to wince.

Thursday, September 06, 2007

Someone believes me!

It's gratifying to see that at least one person is giving my situation with the impostor "M.Christian" the severity it deserves! This comes from my pal Thomas S. Roche over at Eroszine:
Being M.Christian

The Very Bloody Marys author M. Christian, who has contributed his unique brand of clever, edgy and inventive erotic fiction to literally hundreds of anthologies, magazines and websites as well as authoring and editing more than a score of books, writes in his blog that someone has been impersonating him.

The counterfeiter has actually gone so far as to publish a book entitled ME2, the cover blurb of which implies that M. Christian is not a real person, but some sort of "house name" for a cadre of pseudonymous ruffians wreaking literary havoc in today's literary universe. This villain goes so far as to first take credit for Christian's vast literary output and then to write himself a blurb in the voice of "The other M. Christian," which would (maybe) all add up to a rousing literary fraud if it were a) funny, b) clever, or c) amusing, or if M. Christian (the only one) was actually the guy behind it. He ain't. How do I know? Because it's not funny, clever or amusing.

Certainly this scoundrel is not the first to think M. Christian couldn't possibly be one person; after all, his literary output boggles the mind with its breadth of both sexual proclivity and stylistic variety, but while I'm sure that Christian could, at least in spiritual terms, be accused of being a "cadre," and a well-armed one at that, he also happens to be an actual person.

Having been, incidentally, accused of being M. Christian myself in the very early days of my writing career (and he, likewise, having been accused of being me, probably because we're both weirdos from San Francisco who don't like you very much), I feel an eerie sense of déjà vu to now find out that a pigfucker thinks he (or she) can run roughshod over someone's career… to what end?

I'm telling you, if this person turns out to be named Laura Albert…. POW! Right to the moon.

Find out more about M. Christian's writing at MChristian.com.

Wednesday, September 05, 2007

Thomas S. Roche Loves The Very Bloody Marys

Thanks so much, Thomas, for this delightful rave (from ErosZine):
With The Very Bloody Marys, prolific writer and editor M. Christian, best known for his vast contribution to the erotica genre, turns his hand to the melding of the classic San Francisco crime-noir thriller (think The Maltese Falcon) and the steamy, sexy vampire-occult tale (think TV shows Angel or the Dresden Files, or Laurell K. Hamilton's Anita Blake series of novels). That it is also an irreverent entry into the San Francisco canon of queer coming of age novels might be unexpected, given that its protagonist is a centuries-old vampire, but that aspect of The Very Bloody Marys is no less satisfying for the main character's age.

The story opens as vampy Valentino wakes up late from his daily nap and prepares to catch hell from his employer, Pogue, who's pretty practiced at giving Valentino hell. Y'see, Val's learning to be a cop, of a kind, part of a cadre of vamps who keep order in each locality, in this case San Francisco. Pogue is the drill-sergeant of vampires, an abusive surrogate father whose brand of tough love evokes in Valentino fear, respect and hatred with equal measure. Seems Valentino's never quite good enough to satisfy Pogue, and that pisses both of them off.

The plot thickens, though, when Valentino shows up at his despised employer's pad to encounter Ombre, a mysterious Gallic figure from a distant vampiric authority. Ombre informs Valentino that something is rotten in Fogtown: a gang of scooter-riding vamps called The Very Bloody Marys have been wreaking havoc in the Castro and throughout the City. Pogue, meanwhile, is nowhere to be found, and Valentino suspects the Marys may be culpable. Indiscriminate slaying of the brand the Marys engage in is exactly what Pogue and Valentino are there to stop -- drain a few too many honeybears and next thing you know, the mortals get their tighty whiteys in a vamp-staking wad.

Ombre seeks Valentino's assurance that things are under control; Valentino gives it to him, but without Pogue he's in way over his head. He goes after the Marys while trying to figure out what happened to his boss; add in a tragic love story involving the love of Valentino's life, and our vampire protagonist has both a complicated puzzle to unravel and an existential dillemma of his own to work on. He does so through the dark alleys of a San Francisco that's queer in more ways than one, a land where the faeries really fly and the twinks' perfect complexions turn way worse than blotchy when they get too much sun.

Christian is known primarily as an erotica writer, or, more accurately, one of the most widely-published authors ever to assault carnal matters. With Marys, however, that fact is evident only in the briskness of his prose and the frankness with which he treats the dark, sleazy side of the city. Far from being an entry in Christian's mind-boggling output of boldly innovative, irreverently nasty erotica, The Very Bloody Marys is a tight genre thriller with a taste for the absurd and a dry wit. But it's also about coming of age; Valentino, as a centuries-old vamp, still has a lot to learn about being a cop, and when confronted with matters of the heart he's as arrested in his development, as vulnerable and at-risk, as any teenager lost in the byways of human relationships.

Equal parts action and introspection, the 171-page thriller cooks along rapidly, following the formulas of the tried-and-true detective novel while at the same time slyly lampooning it. San Franciscans will recognize the details of their city, the smells and sounds of Fogtown after sunset. If you've walked those streets at midnight, you'll recognize them. If you never have, you'll want to book the next flight and maybe bring a cross and some holy water.

Like all the best noir thrillers, Marys is about being apart, alone, isolated; it's about finding a way to bring evil to justice, even if that justice is uglier than the crime; and first and foremost it's about redemption, as Valentino struggles to find his place in the city's nightside and make things right, while keeping his skin.

The Very Bloody Marys is a divine confection with a steaming load of pulpy goodness. It's also got its boots planted firmly in the noir tradition that crosses every sexual boundary in its search for right and wrong. And perhaps most importantly, or most immediately important, it's a deliciously enjoyable addition to three different, and too, too empty, bookshelves: queer vampires, queer noir, and late-night San Francisco adventure.

Tuesday, September 04, 2007

Confessions of a Literary Streetwalker: Drive

(the following is part of an ongoing series of columns I did for The Erotica Readers & Writers Association on the ins and outs and ins and outs and ins and outs of writing good smut)

A friend of mine recently called me ‘ambitious.’ I’m still not sure what he meant by that -- compliment or criticism? Put-down or praise? It’s made me think, though, and that’s always a good thing. I’d normally describe ambition as a drive to succeed, a persistence to rise in status, income, reputation, so forth. But what does that mean to a writer? It could be money, but when is money the answer to anything? It could be ‘reputation,' but then a lot of bad writers are well though-of, even famous (are you listening Tom Clancy?). Ambition can also mean a cold-heartedness, a reckless disregard towards anything and anyone that’s not directly related to a goal. God, I hope I’m not that.

I do know that writing is important to me, probably the most important thing in my life. Because of that, I look for opportunities to do it, to get it seen. I rarely let opportunities pass me by: markets, genres, experiments, anything to get the spark going, juice up my creativity, to get my work published. Erotica was one of those things, an opportunity that crossed my path, and that has been very good to me. I didn’t think I could edit a book, but then I had a chance to do that as well, and now have done 18 (or so) of the suckers.

The fact is, opportunities never find you, you have to find them. The fantasy of some agent, or publisher, or agent, who picks up a phone and just calls you out of the blue is just that or so rare it might as well be just a fantasy: certainly not dependable as a way of getting published. Writing is something that thrives on challenge, growth, change: some of that can certainly come from within, but sometimes it takes something from the outside: some push to do better and better, or just different work. Sending work out, proposing projects, working at maintaining good relationships with editors, publishers and other writers is a way of being involved, in getting potential work to at least come within earshot. It takes time, it certainly takes energy, but it’s worth it. The work will always be the bottom line, but sometimes it needs help to develop, get out, and be seen.

Remember, though: “Ambition can also mean a cold-heartedness, a reckless disregard towards anything and anyone that’s not directly related to a goal.” Drive is one thing, but when it becomes an obsession with nothing but the ‘politics’ of writing and not the work itself, it takes away rather than adds. Being on both sides of the fence (as an editor as well as a writer) I’ve know how being determined, ambitious, can help as well as hinder in getting the work out. Being invisible, hoping opportunity will find out, won’t get you anything but ignominy, but being pushy, arrogant, caring only for what someone can do for you and not that you’re dealing with a person who has their own lives and issues, can close doors rather than open them.

I like working with people who know about ‘Chris’ and not just the person who can publish their work, just as I like writing for publications that are run by kind, supportive, just-plain-nice folks. Rejections always hurt, but when that person is someone I genuinely like or respect then I’ll always do something better next time. As I’ve said before, writing can be a very tough life: having friends or connections that can help, both professionally as well as psychologically can mean a world of difference. Determination to be published, to make pro connections at the cost of potentials comrades is not a good trade-off. I’d much rather have writing friends than sales, because in the long-run having good relationships is much more advantageous than just the credit. Books, magazines, websites, come and go, but people are here for a very long time.

I also think that sacrificing the love of writing, the struggle to create good work, is more important than anything else. Someone who has all the friends in the world, a black book full of agents and publishers, but who is lazy or more concerned with getting published than doing as good a work as possible is doing those friends and markets (as well as themselves) a serious disservice. Getting out there is important, and determination can help that, but if what gets out there is not worthy of you ... then why get out there in the first place? It might take some time, might take some work, but good work will usually find a home, a place to be seen, but bad work forced or just dumped out there is no good for anyone, especially the writer.

The bottom line, I guess, is that I really do believe in ambition, both for work and to find places to get exposed, but more importantly I believe in remembering the bottom line: the writing: that the drive to be a better and better writer is the best kind of ambition of all.

Great time -

Not to put the private out in public, but I just wanted to share the great breakfast I had over the weekend with the fantastic Kathleen Bradean. One thing that always delights me about the 'literate erotic' world is the kindness and warmth of the people involved and Kathleen is a wonderful example of that.

Wednesday, August 29, 2007

No Insult At All

The very wonderful Jolie du Pre mentioned The Very Bloody Marys on her blog as part of her Iridescence reading tour:
Instead of heading straight to my sister's loft, once I got to New York, I took a cab to Strand. I never miss Strand. I also never miss their racks of dollar books that stretch around the building. I found M. Christian's The Very Bloody Marys and one of my favorite authors - Shirley Jackson's Just An Ordinary Day. M. Christian's didn't have a dollar sticker on it, but I convinced the boy behind the counter to give it to me for a dollar because I love a bargain and I'm willing to fight for one. (No offense to M. Christian. The cost of the book doesn't equal the cost of his talent. I'm just cheap - that's all.)
I just hope that Jolie gets more than a buck's worth of entertainment out of my little novel.

The Situation with the other M.Christian

Sorry for the seriousness of this post but I feel I need to clarify something. A couple of people have expressed dismay over my recent newsletter where I brought up the very distressing situation concerning someone who is impersonating me and my work. Let me assure you that this is not a stunt (though it would be a very clever one) or a sign of mental imbalance on my part (even though that wouldn't be unexpected considering my life of wild hedonism): there actually is a person out there, somewhere, attempting to steal my literary identity, particularly by authoring a book called Me2.

To give you an idea of this person's chutzpah, here's a draft of the book's back cover copy where he copies my style, goes so far as to use my biography as his own, credits me with a blurb and further insults me by saying I'm not a writer!

He looks just like you. He acts exactly like you. He takes away your job. He steals your friends. He seduces your lover.

Every day he becomes more and more like you, pushing you out of your own life, taking away that was yours … until there’s nothing left. Where did he come from? What does he want? Robot? Alien? Clone? Doppelganger? Evil twin? Long lost brother?

You’ve never read a novel like Me2. You may think you have, but you haven’t. You may think it’s like every other wild, witty, sexy, twisted, strange, scary, creepy, funny, bizarre, and haunting suspense, comedy, horror, novel about identity and existence but you haven’t. You may think you know what’s going on, but you don’t – not until the final page.

A new view of queer identity, Me2 is a groundbreaking and wildly twisted novel full of surprises, shocks, and delightfully quirky writing. A book you’ll remember for a long time – no matter who you are, or who you think you may be.

#

For the last decade M.Christian has proven himself to be a true literary chameleon, establishing himself as a master of multi-orientation erotica with stories in such anthologies as Best American Erotica, Best Gay Erotica, Best Lesbian Erotica, and so on and so forth as well as with the collections Dirty Words, Speaking Parts, The Bachelor Machine, and Filthy. Recently he has also shown himself to be a master of humor and suspense with such novels as Running Dry, and The Very Bloody Marys.

Some, however, suspect that M.Christian may be more than one person. The other “M.Christian” adamantly denies this rumor.

#

One of the best novels I’ve ever read. Full of strange humor, thoroughly warped horror, and a unique ending that will leave you sleepless for days. Highly recommended.”
- M.Christian (not the writer: the other one)


Please help me with this outrageous situation by keeping an eye out for this impostor and keeping me informed of any further attempts by him to steal my identity.

Thursday, August 23, 2007

Confessions of a Literary Streetwalker: Risks

(the following is part of an ongoing series of columns I did for The Erotica Readers & Writers Association on the ins and outs and ins and outs and ins and outs of writing good smut)

"The shock of September 11 is subsiding. Each day adds distance. Distance diminishes fear. Cautiously our lives are returning to normal. But "normal" will never be the same again. We have seen the enemy and the enemy is among us .... the publishers, producers, peddlers and purveyors of pornography."

It didn't take me long to find that quote, just a few minutes of searching. It came from an LDS Web site, Meridian Magazine, but I could have picked fifty others. Maybe it's because of the election, or because of a few horror stories that have recently come my way, but I think it's time to have a chat about what it can mean to ... well, do what we do.

We write pornography. Say it with me: por-nog-ra-phy. Not 'erotica' -- a word too many writers use to distance themselves, or even elevate themselves, from the down and dirty stuff on most adult bookstore shelves -- but smut, filth ... and so forth.

I've mentioned before how it's dangerous to draw a line in the sand, putting fellow writers on the side of 'smut' and others in 'erotica.' The Supreme Court couldn't decide where to scrawl that mark -- what chance do we have?

What good are our petty semantics when too many people would love to see us out of business, thrown in jail, or much, much worse? They don't see a bit of difference between what I write and what you write. We can sit and argue all we like over who's innocent and who's guilty until our last meals arrive, but we'll still hang together.

I think it's time to face some serious facts about what we do. 'Swinging from a rope' hyperbole aside, we face some serious risks for putting pen to paper or file to disk. I know far too many people who have been fired, stalked, threatened, had their writing used against them in divorces and child custody cases, and much worse.

People hate us. Not everyone, certainly, but even in oases like San Francisco people who write about sex can suffer tremendous difficulties. Even the most -- supposedly -- tolerant companies have a hard time with an employee who writes smut. A liberal court will still look down on a defendant who's published stories in Naughty Nurses. The religious fanatic will most certainly throw the first, second, third stone -- or as many as it takes -- at a filth peddler.

This is what we have to accept. Sure, things are better than they have been before and, if we're lucky, they will slowly progress despite the fundamentalism of the current government, but we all have to open our eyes to the ugly truths that can accompany a decision to write pornography.

What can we do? Well, aside from joining the ACLU (www.aclu.org) there isn't a lot to we can directly do to protect ourselves if the law, or Bible-wielding fanatics, break down our doors, but there are a few relatively simple techniques we can employ to be safe. Take these as you will, and keep in mind that I'm not an expert in the law, but most importantly, try to accept that what you are doing is dangerous.

Assess your risks. If you have kids, if you have a sensitive job, if you own a house, if you have touchy parents, if you live in a conservative city or state, you should be extra careful about your identity and what you are writing. Even if you think you have nothing to lose, you do -- your freedom. Many cities and states have very loose pornography laws, and all it would take is a cop, a sheriff, or a district attorney to decide you needed to be behind bars to put you there.

Hide. Yes, I think we should all be proud of what we do, what we create, but use some common sense about how easily you can be identified or found. If you have anything to lose, use a pseudonym, a post office box, never post your picture, and so forth. Women, especially, should be extra careful. I know far too many female writers who have been stalked or Internet-attacked because of what they do.

Keep your yap shut. Don't tell your bank, your boss, your accountant, your plumber, or anyone at all, what you do -- unless you know them very well. When someone asks, I say I'm a writer. If I know them better, I say I write all kinds of things -- including smut. If I know them very, very, very well then maybe I'll show them my newest book. People, it shouldn't have to be said, are very weird. Just because you like someone doesn't mean you should divulge that you just sold a story to Truckstop Transsexuals.

Remember that line we drew between 'pornography' and 'erotica'? Well, here's another. You might be straight, you might be bi, but in the eyes of those who despise pornography you are just as damned and perverted as a filthy sodomite. It makes me furious to meet a homophobic pornographer. Every strike against gay rights is another blow to your civil liberties and is a step closer to you being censored, out of a job, out of your house, or in jail. You can argue this all you want, but I've yet to see a hysterical homophobe who isn't anti-smut. For you to be anti-gay isn't just an idiotic prejudice, it's giving the forces of puritanical righteousness even more ammunition for their war -- on all of us.

I could go on, but I think I've given you enough to chew on. I believe that writing about sex is something that no one should be ashamed of, but I also think that we all need to recognize and accept that there are many out there who do not share those feelings. Write what you want, say what you believe, but do it with your eyes open. Understand the risks, accept the risks and be smart about what you do -- so you can keep working and growing as a writer for many years to come.

The View From Here: Songball

(the following is part of an ongoing 'column' I did for Suspect Thoughts, and, no, it's not supposed to make sense: only be weird fun)

The neighborhood kids are playing songball again. I don’t mind - except when that poor hydrocephalic kid from down at the Corporate Dormitories plays. His voice just grates on me -- and three times now he’s hit just the right frequency, causing my precious candyglass trinkets from that wonderful Summer at Bronze Beach to explode like kitsch-shrapnel hand grenades.

Last time I thought I’d escaped unscathed, that his screeching rendition of Baldwin’s new hit “Peacocks on my Mind” had somehow bypassed those mnemonic souvenirs of firm breasts and multicolored pubic hairs against a backdrop of pure, blue sands and a crashing champagne sea -- but after one drop, then two of blood on the manuscript pages I was laboring over, I reached up to find a sliver of cheaply spun crystal at the end of a wicked slice of skin.

I have to admit that when I heard their tunes drift up from the alley, I jerked my head to my little shelf of erotic brick-a-brack, waiting for one to detonate -- mentally running my apartment full of crap for something suitably heavy, but not too weighty, to drop on the poor little spud’s head.

Luckily for him and for my criminal record -- the Magistrates being tightly wound that Summer as the League of Handsome Prostitutes had decided to attend their Convention of Postures in unusual droves -- my kitsch stayed intact on my little shelf, the swollen-headed fry obviously having something better to do that screech and therefore inflict minor flesh wounds on lowly writers.

A writer lives for distractions. Anything will do. Messages suddenly crying to be composed, a stubborn pillow under the ass that cries to be fluffed and then fluffed again, a speck of grit on a window, a cup that simply looks out of place, a candletip that needs trimming, a fingernail just a shade too long -- or, in my case that afternoon, the local spawn playing songball in the alley.

I’m not a fan. Oh, sure, I like swingtag like most good Franciscans, but frankly I just don’t have the pitch or pipes to do anything but get teammates and adversaries to gag on their laughter or fall over backwards. So a lot of nuances of the game are lost on me.

But ... writers and their distractions, so I took my favorite cup, full of deepest black and wondered over to sip and stare -- anything but face that damned blank page.

Songball? Really? I had no idea what I was looking at. Oh, sure, I saw the alley, a battered couple of charcoal bins, a few flutters of litter, and the half-dozen or so scruffy (and sometimes not) local kids standing there on the soiled pavement, marked the usual cubic patterns of places and HOME, cheering, jeering, and chanting. I thought I knew the basics of the game, but either somehow I lost what little knowledge I’d had or the game had evolved on the street into something totally unique. The pitch was the same, that’s what I’d first heard, but the delivery, the spin, was strange and new.

I kept looking, listening, trying to figure out the play but just when I thought I had a grip on the rules, the behavior, it slipped away. Songs seemed to change and evolve totally at random as one child skipped forward and another skipped back. An outstanding performance -- like when a copper-headed sprite in Naval Greens belted out what I thought to be a perfect rendition of Carol’s “Death of Summer” -- brought catcalls and squeals of disappointment, and then when one of the little urchins tore up the air with what seemed to be just random squawks and squeals they got applause, cheers and to progress up five, and even seven squares

Fear started to niggle at the back of my mind, as if the world has suddenly twisted out of whack. Had I set down to my work in one world, with one version of songball only to look up somewhere else where the rules were completely different?

I thought about yelling down at the insufferable brats, either to get then to stop playing their game with my mind -- or at least key me in with the damned rules. I also thought about grabbing my shawl and rollers and just getting out of there -- maybe to the library where the books would hopefully still be books and the clerks as rude as ever.

I felt a shiver of panic, imaging a trip out my door -- down suddenly unfamiliar roads, past unfamiliar buildings, neighborhood commonalties having shifted into not-quite right, and what-the-hell? Would menus be nothing but puzzling heliographics and impenetrable encryptions? Would signs become a dance of squiggles and stylish ciphers? Was the city outside the city I remembered?

Just then, right when I was really starting to worry, one of my trinkets blasted away into a rainbow cascade of cheap materials -- and I knew, much to my satisfaction -- that the more things change, the more they stay the same.

Friday, August 10, 2007

Don't forget: Very Bloody Marys Reading in San Francisco tomorrow!

Just a reminder for all you folks in San Francisco:
On August 11th at 3:00PM you’ll have the rare opportunity to meet and greet me, a reclusive author who shuns sunlight, at a special *daytime* event at Borderlands Books:

Borderlands Books
866 Valencia St.
San Francisco CA 94110

(415) 824.8203
Toll-Free Phone Number: (888) 893.4008
Email: webmail@borderlands-books.com

Come for the reading, stay for basking in my literary glow (caution: only visible at night)!

Wednesday, August 08, 2007

Apex Science Fiction Loves Very Bloody Marys

Check out this wonderful review of The Very Bloody Marys by the delightful Mari Adkins from Apex Science Fiction:

Valentino is a 200-year-old gay vampire cop who drinks his blood with vodka. He's inept, clumsy, but can see himself in a mirror. Told in first person, Valentino takes three tries to get the story started--in three different, but amusing, styles. He does this now and again as he tries to filter certain events through his mind, as he tries to make sense of the world and life around him.

Valentino has trained with his mentor, Pogue, in martial arts and law enforcement for years, enough to call himself a cop. But we don't find out exactly for whom until the end of the story, although we suspect. His job is enforcing the law of the San Franciscan "vampire underground". But then Pogue disappears and Valentino must remember what little he thinks he recalls of his training while relying upon his limited sources for help.

The title of the book comes from a Vespa-riding gang of rogue vampires who kill with so little discrimination as to threaten to local vampires' food supply and also threaten outing vampires worldwide. But after encountering the gang and being locked on a roof to burn in the morning sunlight, Valentino begins to suspect the whereabouts of Pogue.

M. Christian is the author of the novel Running Dry, and the critically acclaimed and best selling collections Dirty Words, Speaking Parts, The Bachelor Machine, and Filthy. He is the editor of The Burning Pen, Guilty Pleasures, the Best S/M Erotica series, The Mammoth Book of Future Cops and The Mammoth Book of Tales of the Road (with Maxim Jakubowski), Trans Figures: Transgender Erotica, and Love Under Foot and several other anthologies. His short fiction has appeared in over 200 books including Best American Erotica and Best Gay Erotica. He lives in San Francisco and maintains a blog at www.mchristian.com.

As I've said often enough, I don't generally care for first person point of view. However, if the story is told well, handled properly, and holds my attention like The Very Bloody Marys, then I'm in favor. A narrator as self-deprecating and humorous as Valentino goes a long way. M. Christian's style is unique and new. I just wish the story had been longer. We don't really see enough of The Very Bloody Marys, although the gang is mentioned often enough. The fight scenes, while well-detailed, aren't quite long enough; they seem resolved too soon. Then again, all stories are as long and as detailed as they need to be, and this one accomplished that quite well. Too, Valentino's discovery of his true potential and how he handles himself and his duties from that point forward is well-written.

The Very Bloody Marys isn't so much a vampire novel--the vampires are far and away from Bram Stoker, and I'm glad for that--as it is a good, old-fashioned mystery. I hate be cliché and say "This book is a classic page-turner," but it is! The plot is quick-paced, and Valentino is as sexy as he is funny. The story is packed with a full, colorful cast of characters ranging from vampires, ghouls, and faeries. Oh, and a zombie or two. If you're hungry for a different kind of vampire book, don't miss this one!

Wednesday, August 01, 2007

So sweet!

Thank you so much, AF, for posting this great review for The Very Bloody Marys on Amazon. Yer a peach!
It's Not Easy Being Undead
M. Christian creates quirky, imaginative yet realistic worlds in which palpable danger threatens to instantaneously whisk one off dark streets. The Very Bloody Marys humorously and deftly blends vampires, demons, faeries, a police force of the undead . . . capturing a complex daily reality in gay vampire cop Valentino --- as Valentino searches for his missing boss. Energetic, erotic, atmospheric . . . a unique read!

Ann Regentin's Review of Very Bloody Marys

Ann Regentin

A couple of folks (people read this blog? I'm shocked! Shocked, I tell ya!) have written that the link below to Ann Regentin's review of The Very Bloody Marys is busted. Not one to disappoint my fans - both of them - I've fixed the link. Enjoy!

Monday, July 30, 2007

Coming Out

Every blue moon someone asks me about "M.Christian" and what it might mean. Despite my fondness for games, and my very weird sense of humor, it doesn't really mean anything: it's just my real name, backwards.

The reason I mention this is because people sometime assume "M.Christian" has a different kind of hidden meaning, that it's a 'loud and proud' sign of my belief or religion.

Even though I try to keep personal stuff personal, this is a good time to say something about that: I'm an atheist. No doubts, hesitations, or uncertainty: I don't believe in god, gods, ghosts, faeries, UFOs or the similar.

The reason this is a good time to come out of the philosophical closet is Richard Dawkins, a man I admire and respect, has started an OUT campaign for us unbelievers, one marked by a scarlet 'A'."

So come on all you other fellow rationalists, now's a good time to stand up and be counted!

Out & About Loves The Very Bloody Marys

Gay Noir delivers the goods

Don’t lock your doors – the thing that goes bump in the night is back—and he’s hot!

M. Christian, the best-selling author of Running Dry, has set out to curl your toes and your eyelashes. The Very Bloody Marys, available from Haworth Press, is a rollicking noir that sets the hero, a slick gay vampire cop named Valentino, against a wandering gang of vamp twinks, a killer Tinkerbell, and a world wide council of vampires that would make the Vatican seem laid-back and jovial.

Set in the rolling hills of a darkened San Francisco, the novel opens with Valentino searching desperately for his MIA boss, Pogue. With no clues to his whereabouts, the case seems lost, and then tragedy strikes. Returning home one evening, Valentino watches in horror and disbelief as his lover Julian crumbles to dust right before his eyes. Now sick with grief, anger and revenge, Valentino sets out into the night to find Julian’s killer and make him pay.

Quick paced and full of eye-popping visuals, The Very Bloody Marys whisks down the plot-line at breakneck speeds, daring the reader to keep up. Back-story is held up to make way for the full throttle action that begins almost immediately, and once you’ve started the book, it may prove difficult to put down.

Christian was written the quintessential noir mystery, using sex, the night and a barrage of interesting undead characters to tell a fun and captivating story. There are several references to Humphrey Bogart, and indeed, our gay Bogie is the perfect protagonist, even if he himself doesn’t buy it.

Using all the right details, Christian has created a world that’s one part L.A. Confidential and two parts Tales of The City. The result is a sometimes hilarious, sometimes terrifying experience that will leave you thirsty for more.

The Very Bloody Marys is available through Haworth Press or at Out Loud and other retailers in the area.

Thursday, July 26, 2007

Saturday, July 14, 2007

Very Bloody Marys: News, Updates, and More!

Howdy, folks! M.Christian here with news, updates and fun about my newest, funniest, scariest novel: The Very Bloody Marys, just out from Haworth Positronic Press.

Check out the what people might be saying about this funny, scary, gay, vampire, detective story:

“A magnificent literary achievement!”
- Stephen King (if he'd actually read the book)

“Funny, scary – a wonderful thrill ride!”
- Kurt Vonnegut (if he were still alive)

“You HAVE to read this book!”
- Alberto Perez, Novel Prize Winner for Literature (if I hadn't made him up)

For rave reviews that didn't come from my own imagination, follow this link to them on my site at www.mchristian.com. If you also want to review The Very Bloody Marys - and receive a free “I sucked up to a vampire book author” T-shirt - just drop me a line at zobop@aol.com.

In the meantime, if you’re lucky enough to live in or just be visiting San Francisco, you’ll have a chance to enjoy a couple of fantastic Very Bloody Marys experiences:

Take Mina Harker’s famous San Francisco Vampire Tour and you’ll have a chance to win a free copy of The Very Bloody Marys. Mina’s almost as fantastic as my book – yes, she’s THAT good!

On August 11th at 3:00PM you’ll have the rare opportunity to meet and greet me, a reclusive author who shuns sunlight, at a special *daytime* event at Borderlands Books:

Borderlands Books
866 Valencia St.
San Francisco CA 94110

(415) 824.8203
Toll-Free Phone Number: (888) 893.4008
Email: webmail@borderlands-books.com

Come for the reading, stay for basking in my literary glow (caution: only visible at night)!

#

“M. Christian has created a character with an unforgettable, if unceasing, narrative voice, an amusing and cliche-busting antidote to the overpopulated literary ranks of hardboiled vampire detectives. The world of Le Conseil Carmin, where vampires literally work for Blood Money and protect humanity from creatures much worse than themselves, is well-wrought; the plot twists, although initially baffling, all get satisfactorily straightened out; and Valentino, a less-than-enthusiastic member of Le Corps Policier Contre, has a self-conscious charm that will appeal to a broad spectrum of readers.

“Fresh, quirky, and irreverent, The Very Blood Marys is a vampire novel for readers who've become bored with vampires.”
-- Dru Pagliassotti, The Harrow

Great Post from Sage Vivant

A bad week for Republican sex

I'd like to take a non-partisan view toward sex but wow -- these guys really don't make it easy. What a week it was for unbridled hypocrisy!

1. On July 9, the "D.C. Madam" released her little black book of clients, and in a preemptive move designed to ward off the wave of public derision and marital strife, Senator David Vitter (R-La.) confessed to having availed himself of the madam's services. He's since disappeared, probably because his wife was once quoted as "being more like Lorena Bobbitt than Hilary Clinton" on such matters. I can only wonder whether Vitter escaped before she reached for her knife.

Vitter was a typical Southern Republican, espousing the sanctity of marriage while getting his kicks from the professionals. In 2005, Vitter attacked "the Hollywood left" for "redefining the most basic institution in human history." Uh huh.

2. Republican Strategist John ("Jack") M. Burkman's name was also in the revealing black book. (You may recall that Burkman picked up some teenage girls last year -- and was dumb enough to give them his business card -- and offered to pay them for sex. He likes really big tits, by the way.) Burkman is a real doll: following on the comments of Ann Coulter's vile hate rants on the widows of 9/11, he declared that “within hours of those [World Trade Center] towers going down,” the wives of victims of the September 11, 2001, terrorist attacks “were ready to make money and exploit this tragedy!” Once a sleazeball asshole, always a sleazeball asshole, I guess.

3. Florida State Representative (and Co-chair of Senator John McCain's Florida campaign) Bob Allen got into a sticky little mess this week, too, but at least his name wasn't in the D.C. Madam's book. Instead, he was arrested Wednesday afternoon at a local park after offering to perform a sex act on an undercover officer in exchange for $20. The Orlando Sentinel story says Allen was arrested for "offering to perform a sex act," but TV reports out of Florida say Allen was to have the sex act performed on him. Either way, I think we all agree that Florida is clearly the place to get a blowjob, as they can be had for the bargain price of $20!

Thanks, you horny Republicans, for making such asses of yourselves. But fear not, your supporters will not be thwarted. They're all praying for you and saying crap like, "If God has found it in His heart to forgive you, so can I."

Tuesday, July 10, 2007

A Very Bloody Mary Time In San Francisco

If you're visiting San Francisco - or are lucky enough to live here - definitely check out the delightful San Francisco vampire tour conducted by the very fun Mina Harker (aka Kitty Burns).
The Vampire Tour of San Francisco was chosen by The Bay Guardian as one of the "Best of the Bay" for 2003! Mina Harker (Kitty Burns) was also awarded the 2005 Individual Donor Diamond Award by ARTshare in San Mateo, CA for charitable contributions made by The Vampire Tour of SF.

Become a member of the Drac Pack! Explore the Gothic side of Nob Hill with your Host, Mina Harker, Vampress who was made by Count Dracula in London in 1897 and banished by him to the United States. Mina has resided on and under the streets of San Francisco for over 100 years. Hear her story, and learn how Vampires have played an important part in the shaping of San Francisco as we know it today. Don't worry. We do not go underground or to any stops that are seriously gothic or dark. This is a fun, light hearted tour for the Undead or prospective Undead with a sense of humor!
If you act quickly you might be lucky and receive a FREE (yes, I said FREE) copy of The Very Bloody Marys that Mina will be giving away on each tour.

Monday, July 09, 2007

Dark Roasted Weird

Check it out: the fantastic Dark Roasted Blend just republished my meine kleine fabrik Welcome to Weirdsville: Oooops! post.

I don't know what to say -

- except thanks to Ann Regentin for this incredibly special Very Bloody Marys review. Check out the whole thing at the always great Erotica Readers & Writers Association site, but in the meantime here's an excerpt:

I don't review books very often. In fact, it might be better to say that I don't review books at all, and the reason is that I'm very picky. I spent a few years reading them for money—yes, you can do that if you're in the right place at the right time—and as a result, nothing surprises me. I don't care what plot or character you throw at me, I've read it before somewhere else.

Murder mysteries are the worst because I used to read them obsessively, and good ones, too, like Rex Stout, Arthur Conan Doyle and Agatha Christie. Unless the characters or setting really grab me, it usually takes three chapters to figure out who the killer is. A quick check to the end, and I'm done. I also don't much care for vampire stories, mostly because I don't find cold immortality particularly sexy. I prefer my heroes warm-blooded and human.

So what the heck was I doing reading a book called The Very Bloody Marys (Harrington Park Press; May 1, 2007), a gay vampire murder mystery? Even weirder, why couldn't I put it down?

Okay, I did put it down from time to time. I had to eat, shower, sleep, take care of my kid, that kind of thing, but for the most part, I read because in spite of covering two of my least favorite genres, it was a damned good book ....

[more]

Friday, July 06, 2007

Kathleen Bradean loves The Very Bloody Marys

Thank you, Kathleen, for this wonderful review of The Very Bloody Marys!
I've been indulging in a M. Christian reading binge lately. I finished his vampire tale, Running Dry (very good), and then slipped right into The Very Bloody Marys, his newest vampire story.

Valentino is a 200-year old rookie vampire cop who is fated to spend eternity as the screw-up assistant to undead drill sergeant cop and all around bastard, Pogue. That is, until Pogue mysteriously disappears. The powers (of the night) want Valentino to find Pogue and stop a rogue band of vampires who call themselves the Very Bloody Marys. The only problem is that Valentino has no clue what he's doing. He stumbles around San Francisco, making an unholy mess of the case, while sinister otherwordly beings manipulate him into doing their bidding. Valentino isn't as hopeless as he thinks he is though, and manages to find out what happened to his mentor, figure out who the real bad guy is, and take down the Very Bloody Marys.

The Very Bloody Marys isn't a story about being a vampire (although that's part of it). It's a good-ole gumshoe novel, a mystery with enough twists to keep me guessing and page-turning action. The characters were so original that it never felt like a rehash of vampire legend (thank god!). And the best part - this book supplied enough of a taste of otherworld San Francisco to pique my interest, but left me wanting more. Hopefully, M. Christian will do me a favor write another one. Soon.

Thursday, July 05, 2007

Emily Veinglory likes Running Dry

What with all the hullaballoo (and, yes, that is a technical term) over The Very Bloody Marys I've almost forgotten I have another novel out there. The wonderful Emily Veinglory has a very flattering review of Running Dry. Check it out:
I am a somewhat disillusioned fan of vampire fiction. I have a few hundred vampire books and have read a few hundred more than that. The days when I would buy a book just because it was vampire fiction are long gone given the sheer quantity of them out there and the average quality, which seems to sink every year. In the last week I just happen to have read three vampire books over the last week or so and this one, 'Running Dry' by M. Christian, made me think: Oh, right. This is what I loved about vampire fiction all along.

And I should probably make clear is that we are not talking about bats, tuxedos and mock-European-accent type vampire cliches here. The very essence of the vampire mythos is having to take something from someone else to live, take so much that they die. That is the monster inside the man, that is the dilemma. Modern vampires who have immortality, angst and superpowers but no real down side to their state pale in comparison to this.

The basic story is about Doud, a conflicted man trying to reconcile what he needs to do to live his long life with his respect for human life. Shelly is his friend, a middle-age gallery owner who has to confront a few of her own personal demons when she finds out what Doud really is. And finally the story starts with the return of Doud's old lover Sergio who had every reason to want Doud dead. The kind of creature Doud really is would take a little long to explain. He needs to feed off others but his nature springs from the author's unique vision and has none of the surface features of the stock blood-sucking monster.

There really is very little to complain about in this book. I do think some of the events in the last third of the book could have been described at more length to help us setting into the twists and turns and to add pathos to the ending which could (should?) have had more emotional impact. But this is a quibble. The characters are likeable without being particularly heroic or virtuous (like real people). The story pulls you along with something new unfolding in every chapter. More than anything the writing is effortless to read, so it is more like watching the story through a window than wading through a swamp of words (this being the greatest difference between this book and the others I read this week). Based on my experience of M. Christian's writing so far (this book and his anthology 'Filthy') my main advice is this, if a book has his name on it you should buy it.

If you like fiction with gay themes their presence here is a bonus, but the reason to buy this book is because this book is good.

Tuesday, July 03, 2007

Welcome to Weirdsville!

If you haven't checked out meine kleine fabrik, check it out now: I've been posting some of my classic Welcome to Weirdsville columns up there. So far I've talked about the Hellfire Club, nuclear weapon boo-boos, kudzu, The Bucklands, and many more strange and bizarre things.

This week, for instance, I've posted a little piece about the fartist: Le Petomane.

Enjoy!

Thursday, June 21, 2007

The Only Thing It Could Be Called: The Pussyfoot

As this was a bit too risque for meine kleine fabrik I decided to post it here rather than there.

From JT's Stockroom:

The SiFeet Pussy Foot is the ultimate fantasy sex toy for foot fetishists. This size 6, 100% silicone foot is cast in pure silicone from a real life actual, beautiful female foot. In the sole of this lovely foot is a fully functional and totally fuck-able silicone vagina.

This pure silicone foot is soft, smooth, and incredibly sexy. The toes are decorated with acrylic toenails painted glossy pink, making the Pussy Foot seem even more real.

From the toes to the heel and ankle, great time and effort has been taken to insure that the Pussy Foot seems real.

From Wikipedia:
Like other paraphilias, foot fetishism encompasses a wide range of predilections; one foot fetishist may be aroused by scenarios that another fetishist finds unerotic or even repulsive. Websites exist that cater to a number of specialized scenarios, including: women walking barefoot in the street with dirty soles or on uncomfortable surfaces such as hot pavement, feet pushing down on gas or brake pedals, feet crushing objects like balloons or toy cars, feet being pushed into mud or food, female foot torture (i.e. having the soles of their feet tortured or punished by whippings, hot wax, burnt with cigarettes, etc. see bastinado and falaka.

Tuesday, June 19, 2007

More ebay fun!

Here's your chance to pick up some great anthologies (many of which being out of print and/or rare) that just happen to have stories in them by yours truly. Check them out here. Keep going back, by the way, as I'll be posting even more in the next few weeks.

Wednesday, June 13, 2007

Thanks so much, Aaron!

The great Aaron of Aaron's Lavender Levithan has posted a couple of very sweet mentions for The Very Bloody Marys and Running Dry:
I just finished reading author, M. Christian's first novel RUNNING DRY and loved it! There have been many versions of what traits constitute a vimpire and M. Christian adds another cool, updated version to the list. My only negative comment is that the book wasn't long enough because, I didn't want to stop reading it.

I have since aquired M. Christian's newest novel, THE VERY BLOODY MARYS and it is currently waiting for me on my nightstand.
And here's the piece he put on his prints page - which are gorgeous:

Tuesday, June 12, 2007

I'm notorious?

Just had to share this little thing I stumbled on while (blush) googling Very Bloody Marys:

From the Lambda Rising Bookstore:
"I would highly recommend The Very Bloody Marys by a very famous and notorious writer."
(giggle) Very flattering. When do I get to see my wanted poster?

Tuesday, June 05, 2007

Being Lusty on Lust Bites

Following right behind my partner-in-all-things, Sage Vivant, I'm also going to have an interview up at the very cool Lust Bites site on Friday, June 8th. Be sure and check in throughout the day as I'll be answering questions in the comments area.

The Harrow Loves Very Bloody Marys

Coolness! Check out this wonderful review of The Very Bloody Marys by Dru Pagliassotti on The Harrow site:
Le Conseil Carmin is concerned. People are being killed on the streets of San Francisco by a gang of Vespa-riding vampires called The Bloody Marys, and the hard-assed cop the conseil had expected to investigate the crimes, Pogue, isn't answering his doorbell.

Which means the investigation must fall to Pogue's screwup of a deputy — the insecure, disrespected, nervously chattering vampire Valentino, who's painfully aware that he's in over his head and only hopes he can keep treading water until his boss returns.

Until a faery kills Julian, his one true love.

Suddenly, Valentino's out for vengeance.

Zombie taxi drivers, golems of Abraham Lincoln, a four-star restaurant in the city morgue, vampires, warlocks, fairies, ghouls, and angelic apparitions: they're all denizens of The Castro's other night-life, and Valentino must bluster his way through them as he hunts for a murderous faery, his missing dickwad of a commanding officer, and — of course — the pretty and ruthless Very Bloody Marys.

M. Christian has created a character with an unforgettable, if unceasing, narrative voice, an amusing and cliche-busting antidote to the overpopulated literary ranks of hardboiled vampire detectives. The world of Le Conseil Carmin, where vampires literally work for Blood Money and protect humanity from creatures much worse than themselves, is well-wrought; the plot twists, although initially baffling, all get satisfactorily straightened out; and Valentino, a less-than-enthusiastic member of Le Corps Policier Contre, has a self-conscious charm that will appeal to a broad spectrum of readers.

Fresh, quirky, and irreverent, The Very Blood Marys is a vampire novel for readers who've become bored with vampires.

Wednesday, May 30, 2007

A Great Amazon Review

Just had to share this delightful review of Very Bloody Marys that Amos Lassen posted to Amazon. Thanks, Amos!
The homoerotic nature seems to appeal to gay people. Anne Rice had a career based upon the blood sucking creatures until she turned to Jesus. Other vampire novels and movies have won us over but "The Very Bloody Marys" is M. Christian is headed to be our new favorite. Christian is a new voice in the field and he is unique and fascinating. His arrival on the vampire scene gives us an entire new way to look at the demons. He is funny and fierce at the same time and will keep you entertained throughout the 171 pages of his new book.

Christian is not new to the gay writing scene having been responsible for over fourteen anthologies and his short fiction has appeared in over 200 books as well as one novel and several collections. "The Very Bloody Marys", however, is about to become his breakthrough novel.

Christian is not new to the supernatural and horror genre and in this book he has mustered up all of his strengths and given us a wonderful read. San Francisco is undergoing major woes with a clan of Vespa riding vampires killing citizens without seeming cause and it looks like the city is about to go through a "dry spell" as they threatened to drain the place of blood. Valentino, our hero and a gay cop is undergoing training through a supernatural law enforcement agency, "Le Counseil Carmin" and is swept up into the whole blood-sucking business. When Pogue, his mentor, becomes missing, Valentino is called upon to rid the town of the menace but the "Bloody Marys" are very clever and very thirsty and Valentino must use all he knows and do so quickly or possibly be done away with himself. He realizes that in order to dispose of the vampires, he must go into areas he never dreamed of, deal with some very strange characters and learn what the mystery of them is.

This is not only a horror book but a romp which deals with many aspects of supernatural life. Apart from the vampires, there are also fairies and the undead and ghouls. The fear evoked by the novel often gives way to comedy and the mixture of the two is a wonderful way to spend some time reading. You embark upon a journey and a ride through the dark side of San Francisco and get a view of the tow you have probably never had before.

Christian gives us a whole new way of reading and I absolutely loved it. Almost equal amounts of fear and fun make this one of the books to be read this summer.

Monday, May 21, 2007

Those Who REALLY Can do ... Make!


Just spent a fantastic weekend with my brother, s.a., at the Maker Faire. He and I will be posting more about the event very soon at Meine Kleine Fabrik but in the meantime here's a quick sample of the marvelous imagination and innovation we saw there.

Tuesday, May 15, 2007

Special Offer to All of My Fans -

- both of you!

Since the garage has become a nightmare I've decided to start selling off some of the books I've been in. So here's your chance to pick up some mint condition, rare, out-of-print, anthologies with a story of mine in there. Oh, and I'll also sign the book.

Here's the ebay links:

Viscera (edited by Cara Bruce)
Sex Spoken Here (edited by Carol Queen)
Sex Toy Tales (edited by Anne Siemans)

Depending on how these do I'll probably be posting more.