Not as intolerable as being dead, in my opinion, but I'm very fond of me. I would miss me a lot.

Sable hair bisected his pecs and arrowed down to the straight and unequivocal statement of his returned interest. Forcing my gaze to his face, I said, "I really don't think we have time for that." "You know that, and I know that, but HE doesn't believe it." "Believe it," I told HIM. J.X.'s mouth tugged into one of those heart-stopping smiles. "Maybe you should whisper in his ear.

And why is it the best looking ones are always straight?

I thought of the words of the Renaissance philosopher Michel de Montaigne. "If you press me to say why I loved him, I can say no more than because he was he, and I was I.

I thought I recognized you." Really? He remembered me looking like Swamp Thing? How flattering.

I'm a thirty-something gay man with a dodgy heart. I sell books for a living. Who wants to read about that?

I want people to react to my work, to think, to question, to challenge, to cry and laugh and feel.