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  Collected Short Stories 1982-2002 (2024)
Posted by: Simon - 12-14-2025, 02:39 PM - Replies (1)

          


  A new anti-gay aesthetic had been born.

            Not all of this happened overnight.  The metamorphosis was gradual but relentless.  On the basketball court, as early as the mid-Eighties, Michael Jordan was showcasing an original way of looking macho in shorts that were longer and baggier than any worn before.  In college basketball, Michigan State and some few other schools became early converts to this new and still slightly odd style of covering up to display manliness, covering up to be cool. 

           Not surprising that a game dominated by African-Americans should be the trendsetter.  Young blacks, long at the cultural forefront, were now using their innovative prowess to undo what they themselves had helped to create over the previous twenty years.  This urban culture of rap and hip-hop would become the dominant force of the Nineties—more than just a way of dressing, actually a new lifestyle of Hetero Extremism, a street religion of cartoonish and exaggerated heterosexual behaviors and attitudes, beliefs and taboos.

            What Michael Jordan had first popularized on the basketball court was now adopted and adapted and embellished by this culture of hip-hop into an extravagant caricature of sloppy, goonish virility.  Of course, hip-hop is just an easy label for the new way of thinking and behaving which has come to define maleness.  It’s a huge catchall of mannerisms and music and language and, not least, fashion.  It’s a manifestation of Hetero Separatism, but not the cause.  Simply ascribing the current burlesque of male bagginess to “hip-hop fashion” is to mistake the symptom for the disease. 

Quote: Do gay guys wear tight pants so other guys can check out their butts?

            That’s what some teenaged boy wanted to know in a 1996 film documentary dealing with gay issues in the classroom.  How else could he think?  What else could he wonder given today’s dress code of Hetero Correctness?  His question has been answered by many dismal years of American males in oversized, baggy clothing—men and boys hidden from one another, hidden from themselves, hidden from the dangerous reality of their own bodies.

I've actually seen that documentary! It's called It's Elementary: Talking about Gay Issues in School. It's fantastic. The latino boy who asks the question looks like a character from a Kevin Esser story.

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  Black Boy Out of Time (2021)
Posted by: Simon - 12-14-2025, 02:30 PM - Replies (1)

   


An eloquent, restless, and enlightening memoir by one of the most thought-provoking journalists today about growing up Black and queer in America, reuniting with the past, and coming of age their own way.

One of nineteen children in a blended family, Hari Ziyad was raised by a Hindu Hare Kṛṣṇa mother and a Muslim father. Through reframing their own coming-of-age story, Ziyad takes readers on a powerful journey of growing up queer and Black in Cleveland, Ohio, and of navigating the equally complex path toward finding their true self in New York City. Exploring childhood, gender, race, and the trust that is built, broken, and repaired through generations, Ziyad investigates what it means to live beyond the limited narratives Black children are given and challenges the irreconcilable binaries that restrict them.

Heartwarming and heart-wrenching, radical and reflective, Hari Ziyad’s vital memoir is for the outcast, the unheard, the unborn, and the dead. It offers us a new way to think about survival and the necessary disruption of social norms. It looks back in tenderness as well as justified rage, forces us to address where we are now, and, born out of hope, illuminates the possibilities for the future.

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  The Boy from Mars (2024)
Posted by: Simon - 12-14-2025, 02:25 PM - Replies (1)

   


The year is 2086. The Mars Station, a cold and colorless interior city of ten thousand on the Red Planet is ruled by a ruthless Governor bent on creating a future dedicated solely to scientific advancement. The population includes several hundred children, all of whom have been genetically designed… except for one. Fifteen year old Thomas Knight was the last child born on Earth and sent to Mars as an infant to escape the floods that ravaged the planet. He leads a dull existence on the claustrophobic Station, and lives for the nights when he sneaks out of the segregated Boys' Quarters to break into the Artifacts Museum, where he can feed his obsession with all things Earth-related. Finding an old Webster's Dictionary, he collects mysterious words that form a portrait of the magical planet of his birth.

One night, Thomas encounters an older settler who informs him that he is the heart of a bold mission, conceived by the father he has never known... to save the planet he has never seen.

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  The Voodoo Trilogy (1997-2001)
Posted by: Simon - 12-14-2025, 02:17 PM - Replies (3)

   


These boys at school, at Scout meetings, bragging about girls, boasting, high-fiving, ordinary boys, Little Leaguers, your sons, your brothers—these are the boys who had cum on their chins last night. You know them. You know their names:



Frankie Patallero, puckish and eager and glad to be queer, sixteen -year-old New Age hippie who smells of marijuana and incense, smiley, dimply, squinting at the world in happy enthusiasm. Ryan Fox, little blue-eyed tiger, Golden Boy, ten-year-old jock, bratty, spoiled, always ready for a fight, sniffing for enemies, waiting for a friend. The Huckfeldt brothers, all three of them, Jimmy the oldest, fourteen, hillbilly gangster, Ozark punk with messy shaggy hair and killer stud body and itchy pecker, beware his wolfish grin. Joey next, eleven years old, call him JoJo, hyper yackety-yack clumsy clown, horny, silly, plucking and poking at his bulgy Batman underpants. Dallas the youngest, nicknamed Dally, affectionate little guy, only eight years old, reddish-blond crewcut and freckly Tom Sawyer skin, no inhibitions, loves to make mischief with the big boys, go ahead and suck him or play with his wiener, he’ll smile and do the same for you.

And one more, twelve years old and just greeting pubescence, Khalid Robinson, everybody calls him Pepper, fleecy dark hair and pointy ears and skin like cocoa satin, Pan the Goatboy, clever as a riddle, sorcerer’s apprentice, this child of a white mother and a black father, bashful boy, skittish boy, cuddle him and be thankful when he lets you touch and taste the twitchy hard meat of his dick.

Somewhere in Sandburg, deep in the quietude of Illinois prairie and farmland, these boys are waiting for you to find them, for you to love them. They’re waiting.

Quote:Okay, there's quite a lot of sex throughout, which isn't unusual for Esser, but it's reasonably well written, and the boys are all fleshed out a little with glimpses into their lives and backgrounds. We also meet Doc, Jake's one-time lover, faithful mentor, and now  father-figure to the younger man.

I think Esser fans will enjoy this. Sandburg is a familiar setting now, with its constant supply of boys eager to bounce their problems and their successes and their frustrations and their needs off Jake/Kevin, and Esser's constant themes: Sandburg itself; boys of course; those awful baggy shorts; loneliness; love.

   

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  Kevin - Salvation (2003)
Posted by: Simon - 12-14-2025, 02:12 PM - Replies (1)

   


Mike Burroughs left his old neighbourhood 6 years before Salvation opens, following an encounter with Alex, a little boy from across the street. Nothing really happened, just the boy, as small children often do, showing affection by kissing the man and running off. Mike allowed the incident to grow in his mind, until he becme so afraid of possible repercussions that he decided to move away.

He becomes one of Esser's favourite (stereo)types: the sad, lonely man, turned in on himself, finding empty solace in self-inposed solitude, finding comfort in alcohol and Leonard Cohen.

The book opens with Mike earning a living cleaning a bar in the mornings and delivering pizzas later in the day. On one of his regular deliveries he is greeted by a 14-year-old boy who recognises him ...

Quote:Alex tried this week, he really tried to follow Mike’s advice about those asshole bullies at school, everything from talking to his parents about them after one particularly bad day to asking his guidance counselor about changing gym classes to joking about the whole miserable situation with Carrie. He and the girl were together after drama class, today they’d been doing relaxation exercises and improv techniques, Alex was waiting for Carrie to pack her bookbag, he said to her, "Well, oh boy, now I get to go to gym class and have Clay Olsen torment me.”
“Still?”
“Are you kidding? There’s also Doug Setzer and Ron Maddox. It’s the moron gang.”
“Don’t let them treat you that way.”
“Hey, have you ever looked these guys in the eye? They’re crazy, I’m not kidding, they’re genuine psychopaths.”
“Switch to another gym class or I’ll be very upset with you.”
“I’m working on it,” Alex said, but this day was already doomed, the three psychos took turns harassing and taunting him during calisthenics, during rope-climbing, during the touch football game outside, lots of faggot name-calling and bumping and pushing, the usual. Alex tolerated and ignored all of it even when the abuse continued in the locker room, even when Doug Setzer shoved him from behind in the shower and sent him sprawling onto his ass, you’d assume that being pushed from behind would cause a fall forward but you’d be wrong, in a slippery communal shower it propels you forward with a violent disruption of equilibrium, it’s like sliding and slipping on ice, but then quickly you lose your footing and end up the way Alex did, sitting on the hard tile floor, your tailbone bruised, the other boys having a good laugh at your humiliating pratfall.
Even then Alex endured the punishment and did nothing. But something else happened a few minutes later, Alex was returning to his locker and toweling his hair when Clay Olsen stepped in front of him, strangely cross-eyed kid with a permanent sneer, Alex looked up just in time to see the boy spit point-blank into his face. Something happened this time, he’d been spit on before but something snapped this time when Clay Olsen hocked right into his face and then stood there with that grin of lunatic smugness, Alex turned wildcat and lunged at him and sent him reeling backward with furious jabs to his chest, the look on Clay Olsen’s face was something that Alex will never forget, shock and bewilderment and maybe even a momentary fear, suddenly to be attacked by your own victim this way, the predator assaulted by its own prey. But Olsen is a senior and much larger than Alex, much heavier and stronger, it didn’t take him long to recover and begin his own counterattack and bring Alex’s berserk charge under control, they ended up tangled in each other’s headlocks, a defensive stalemate, both of them suddenly and acutely aware of their own nakedness and vulnerability. A group had formed by now to watch, Doug Setzer and Ron Maddox among them, they were laughing at their friend’s predicament and enjoying the show, this only managed to fuel Clay Olsen’s embarrassment and his fury for revenge. He wrenched himself free from Alex’s headlock and pointed his finger, aiming it like a gun. “You’re dead, Salazar, you are so fucking dead,” he announced for everyone to hear, nodding in terrible emphasis, his finger still pointing its judgment. “We’ll finish this later.

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