Chili Chucker

Current mood:  amused
Category: Life

It’s my turn to blog at Nice N Naughty today and here is what I wrote:

Have y’all heard about the woman who thwarted would-be burglars by throwing a bowl of chili at them? According to yesterday’s news reports, they were so petrified of her resourceful use of kitchen utensils and her good aim with food, they took off running.
The police caught up with the guys, easily identifying them by the bits of cheese and onions still stuck to their clothing…actually I just made the last bit up. But the guys really were arrested and will probably never touch chili again.
I bet it’s still in their hair and down their shirts, in their pubes…they’ll be tasting this for weeks to come.
I loved this story because I have a couple of friends who keep muttering darkly about “In this economy” and they are fortressing their houses against phantom invasions. It’s like that Millennium nonsense all over again. These friends of mine in fact paid a whopping sum of money to take shooting classes in some clandestine militant survivalist camp in Nevada. Yup, my lady friends had to buy all manner of uniforms, knives, sheaths, gun licenses, you name it. All in the name of self protection.
All it takes is a bowl of chili!
I know they say necessity is the mother of invention and being such a foodie myself I would probably never ever chuck food at a home invader, especially if cupcakes were at risk. However I feel inspired now and I can only hope I never have to resort to such drastic measures.
I mentioned this incident to my friend who survived two sleepless nights out in the open, having a miserable time learning how to embrace hysterical fear and contagious paranoid by shooting at anything that moves.
She was impressed by the ingenuity of the woman but scoffed at the idea that the $5,000 she spent to be expensively and harmfully armed and dangerous was a waste of money.
“Chucking chili wouldn’t work in my case,” she insisted. “I can’t cook.”

Aloha oe,


Currently listening:
Blood Sugar Sex Magik
By Red Hot Chili Peppers
Release date: 1991-09-24


Current mood:  amused
Category: Life

It’s my turn to blog at Seven Wicked Writers today and here is what I wrote:

As a writer, I collect lines of dialogue, names, places, little snippets like a bower bird. Names particularly intrigue me as I write so many books I am constantly on the lookout for unusual first names. I don’t go for the de rigeur Duncans, Connors, Logans, Chances, Chases etc that many romance authors opt for.
I guess I have been collecting names for decades because when I was writing “Black Point Surrendered” my May 1 release with DJ Manly, I remembered back in school a kid called Michael Hunt, who was called Mike naturally enough. Unfortunately his parents hadn’t thought his name through too well.

He was called Mike Cunt from the age of 9 and often went home in tears. I reached back into the future and used that name in my book.

Like I said, I beg, borrow and steal names. When I was covering the sport of boxing, I met an incredibly sexy boxer from New Zealand, a dynamic, powerful Maori named Jimmy Thunder. I asked him if I could use his name for a book character. He was thrilled.
I am not sure what he would have to say about the fact that the fictional Jimmy Thunder is a retired gay for pay porn star who is happily married to his husband Tem and that they just happen to be vampires who live in Waikiki.

I love names and the more unusual the better. When I was a kid I went to school with a Fredrick Frogmortten. He once asked me if I thought his parents hated him. I said, “Yes.”

He became known as Freddo Frog after an Australian chocolare of the same name. Poor Fredrick. I wish I’d been kinder to him but by now he’s surely changed his name. And I remind myself I didn’t give him the name in the first place. Freddo, I mean Fredrick hung out with the equally name-challenged Lucy Farkas.

Of course, kids would screech, “Lucy, Fuck us!”

Which leads me to my point.
What is up with people calling their kids weird-assed names? A Swedish family is fighting the court system this week to call their kid Q.
Q! My neighbor’s dog is named Q. It’s a dumb name for a child but not cruel. No, that label I’ll happily slap on the ignorant twats in New Jersey who’ve named their kid Adolf Hitler.

I met a kid called Balthazar Starblitz when I was living in London many years ago. His brothers’ names were Hugo Spinx and Fergus Pollen and their sistes were Petunia Petal and Spirit Wild. All fucked up, the bunch of ’em.

My father is a weirdo too, naming us after family members he confesses to dislike.

Why do parents pick crappy names?

David Bowie, my childhood icon called his kid Zowie. Understandably Zowie changed it.

I am betting Apple Martin when she grows up tells her parents Chris and Gwyneth to lay off the Limoncello when they’re dreaming up more sexy names.

How about you? What is your idea of a sexy name? And a scary one?
Aloha oe,

Currently listening:
Willie K Live at Hapas
By Willie K.
Release date: 2003-06-03

Mother’s Day

Current mood:  content
Category: Life

It’s my turn to blog at The Seven Wicked Writers Today and here is what I wrote:

It’s Mother’s Day again, my least favorite ‘holiday’ of the year. It’s a terrible reminder that I don’t have a mother. I lost her when I was six to the ravages of colon cancer. This time last year, I blogged about my favorite memory of her, which was waking up in the middle of the night to find her tending to a beaten and raped trasnvestite my father rescued on his taxi-driving night shift . I will forever remember her kindness to this stranger. It is my most cherished memory of her because she died soon after.

In the past week, my publisher and friend Tina Haveman lost her mother and the funeral was on Friday. Today will be brutal for her, I am sure.

For those of us without mothers, whether we lose them early or late– I don’t know which is worse to be honest–but either way, it’s hard. Having a mother is something many people I know take for granted. Tina did not. She visited her mother every single day, which always impressed me. I knew she’d visit her in the evenings and around 7pm each day this week, I’ve thought about Tina and how the evenings must be surreal not going to visit her mom.

Tina made a comment to me this week that some people take their mothers for granted or don’t speak to them at all because some mothers just aren’t good mothers. I know this is true. But I wish for just one hour, I could spend some time with my mum and ask her questions, just normal questions about her favorite music, her favorite flowers…

A few weeks ago, on the anniversary of her death, I asked my father to remember just one thing about my mother that he hasn’t blocked from memory. At 83, her passing still grieves him and it took me a long time to realize that. He told me a sweet story, that she used to go into the back yard of our Bondi Beach apartment every morning and examine her roses. He said she would talk to the spiders who’d taken up residence, asking them not to stay there anymore.

I laughed, because I have always hated killing bugs, even spiders. He told me butterflies followed her down the street and I believe that. 

So of you have a mother, and she’s a good mother and she deserves it, please give her an extra, hard hug today, for those of us who don’t have one. And may butterflies follow you both home.
Aloha oe,


Currently listening:
Reloaded: Greatest Hits
By Tom Jones
Release date: 2003-10-14

The House that Anne Boleyn Built

Current mood:  blissful
Category: Writing and Poetry

It is my turn to blog at Nice N Naughty today and here is what I wrote:

Last night historical fiction author Robin Maxwell came to my local library to speak about her life and her astonishing books – all fictionalized autobiographies of “notorious” women of the 15th and 16th centuries.
It was inspiring to listen to the story of how her obsession with Anne Boleyn led to her groundbreaking novel, “The Secret Diary of Anne Boleyn.”
The captivated crown ooohed – literally – when she said that several years ago, after turning her back on her parrot taming career, she managed to get an agent who loved the concept of her book. It was rejected by 35 publishers before landing a deal.
The rest, pardon the pun, is history.
Maxwell’s lively, lyrical novels are first-person narratives. Starting with Anne Boleyn, Maxwell’s immaculate research into the notorious woman who changed the course of western religious history only to be executed by her husband, King Henry VIII, is layered in a moving, exhilarating tale.
Her take on Leonardo da Vinci’s mother is fascinating. She believes Signora da Vinci (the title character of her latest book) was the actual model for the Mona Lisa.
Her novel The Wild Irish, the fictionalized autobiography of the pirate queen Grace O’Malley has been snapped up by Mel Gibson whose production company Icon will produce the movie version. Actress Catherine Zeta-Jones is reading the book, but for my money, watching Robin Maxwell’s spirited performance as she read an extract from her book, made me think she IS Grace O’Malley.
The author’s flagship Boleyn diary has been optioned for movies many times. TV production companies have also optioned it, but it has never been made. I feel Anne’s day will come and her story, written with an open heart, will be told on the screen.
In the meantime, the woman who gave her such grace told her audience last night that it is due to her love affair with Anne Boleyn that she and her husband Max were able to buy their 22 acre desert property in Joshua Tree, California.
“Every time we arrive home, each and every time, I say thank you Anne, thank you Henry.”
I know how she feels. There is a sincere pleasure for me in paying bills with my royalties. I can think of nothing more rewarding.
Kimo and Lopaka haven’t bought me a house – yet – but I, like Robin Maxwell am reveling in the other rewards, the readers, the work, that comes with such muses. I felt very inspired last night by one woman’s remarkable story. A wise reminder that if you do what you love, that is the richest reward there is.
Aloha oe,


Currently listening:
By Adam Cohen
Release date: 2005-05-23

Love Beyond Death

Current mood:  blessed
Category: Life

I took my precious dog Venus for a late, final walk for the evening last night. I’d had a long, productive day and I always enjoy our last walk. The pavement outside has usually just been watered and Venus loves to put her nose to everything, picking up every fresh scent. A few buildings down, an old man sat on a wall, his back to us, hunched over.

                My dog started barking furiously and I wondered if it was the old man we used to see every day for 13 years walking his dog who, spookily, could have been Venus’s twin. She died six months ago and he has been a broken man ever since. I rarely see him anymore. He loved his dog, Kiria, (Greek for woman) the way I love Venus. They were constant companions.

Venus went crazy and I swear, I am not imagining it, but I saw Kiria’s spirit. The dog was sitting beside her master. In death, she is still by his side. She turned and looked at me, and I knew…I don’t know how…but I knew she was upset that his grief was still so profound. I saw her spirit shimmer to the left and Venus lunged in that direction. I didn’t see the dog anymore, but her papa jumped to his feet, swatting at tears streaking his face.

He was overjoyed to see Venus. “Is this a dog or a bear?” he asked me, laughing. He is an elderly Russian man whose wife is Greek and never liked animals until he brought Kiria home. I watched how Venus gamboled with him and he told me how healthy and young she looks. Our dogs were the same age and when Kiria died, I became frantic for Venus’s continued good health.

The old man confessed he misses his best friend.

I felt I was meant to run into him, to tell him he must get another dog.

“Why is she barking?” he asked in wonderment.

“She thinks Kiria is still with you,” I said simply.

“I miss her. My wife…she cries too.” He shook his head. “Sometimes…” he leaned forward, his voiced dropping to a whisper, “I come out and cry, because it’s no good we upset each other.”  

“Are you going to get another dog?” I asked him bluntly.

His shoulders rose a little and I saw the color coming to his cheeks, a little light back in his eyes.

“My son…he has a litter.” He held his hands apart, indicating a small dog or puppies. “I want, but…”

He looked down at Venus who gazed up at him, waiting for more ear rubs and he didn’t disappoint her.

“I think you should get one,” I said.

The old man smiled. “I still love Kiria…”

“You can love her still. She would want you to be happy. You can love her and have another dog.”

He nodded and walked down the street with me and Venus, who kept jumping up at him for attention. My dog knows a sucker when she sees one.

“That black lab down the street…” he shook his head. I nodded. I knew he would have seen her, the poor crippled darling left alone in the front yard of a dilapidated apartment building all day. People like the old man who loved and beautifully cared for his best friend, loving them beyond death, are my kind of people. He walked a little way with me and Venus, and suddenly grabbed my arm.

“I go home and tell my wife. No argument. We get a new baby!”

Though she didn’t shimmer back into view, I knew, beyond the veil, a wonderful girl called Kiria was pleased. I bent down and hugged my dog, who put her nose to mine. She gave me a long, loving lick and put her nose back to the grass. 

Love Mission: accomplished.

Aloha oe,


Currently listening:
By Taj Mahal
Release date: 2008-09-30

The Most Beautiful Man in the World

Current mood:  blissful
Category: Art and Photography

Adam Killian

It’s my turn to blog at Sensual n Secret today and here is what I wrote:

Every erotic romance author I know is a cover whore. We really are. Each time we get a hot new cover, we share it with our readers, our fellow authors and sometimes…really, very rarely in my case, there is the shock of disappointment when the cover does not represent YOUR vision of the hero or the story.
I have been very lucky since day one with my gay erotic paranormal romance series, Phantom Lover. My cover artist Martine Jardin found the perfect photo for Kimo, my hula dancing Kahuna and I fell in love with him. Kimo rocks, except, with 15 books in the series now published, I wanted Kimo and his husband Lopaka to have FACES.
It’s time.
I wanted something different. Since most stock models are shot from the neck down, I approached a couple of gay porn stars I know. I figured these guys would love to be on the cover of a book and they showed great enthusiasm until it was time to make a date.
I confessed my frustrations to my good friend John Bruno, the director whose work on Falcon movies and his own Massive studios is wonderful.
“You need Adam Killian,” he said. “He’s the best there is.”
Boy is he.
I knew Adam was the hot new young thing in gay porn following his amazing first-time performance with Zeb Atlas late last year but in the weeks we have been organizing a cover shoot, I discovered he is smart, funny, sexy and very down to earth.
Yesterday, we got together for our shoot with the also incredibly sexy and smart Tom Nelson, photographer extraordinaire.
It was the perfect day. Tom’s Venice beach back yard had all the elements for a tropical backdrop. It was everything I’d dreamed of – and more.
I’d emailed both men the story breakdown for the three book covers we were shooting. Adam makes his first appearance on the cover of The Cannibal King’s Husband, which comes out on May 15. He is portraying the title character, who is, in my story the father of Lopaka and grandfather to the baby twins Kimo and Lopaka must protect from evil forces.
Adam read the breakdown and emailed me immediately: “I have grandchildren? How old am I supposed to be exactly?”
The emails went back and forth and I realized Adam has a fantastic sense of humor. He also understands story. He loved that the series is paranormal and that his character is an immortal warrior. The three books coming up in the Phantom Lover series have a complete story arc for Paden, the Cannibal King’s husband and I had a very clear idea of the images I wanted to convey.
Adam is a videographer for the Falcon movies and is selective about the movies he performs in. He knows lighting, he knows cameras and he knows how he looks best.
I was struck immediately by his incredible beauty. Believe me, he is more gorgeous off camera even than he is on it.
There was a moment, when Adam asked me about Kimo and Lopaka and how they came to have children and why Paden abandoned his young family (this story thread is revealed in my current #1 best-selling book, Diura) and then: Magic happened.He captured the essence of Paden and Lopaka so well, it gave me chills.

Adam has beautiful energy and gave us one hundred per cent. Tom was the perfect photographer. His garden came alive for us and I felt Kimo’s presence. There was a slender second where I had to shake myself: we’re all here for my books!

My friend Gustavo who has been on this ride with me since Phantom Lover was but a dream, came to the shoot and the moment when Adam became Paden, I will never forget.

Adam may have a career in the sex industry but he is destined for huge and wonderful things far beyond it. He is a gifted and natural Star.

We shot him under a spray of water from the garden hose and total pro that he was, he never complained about the frigid temperature. When Tom and his assistant Kenneth changed film, Adam darted off to an angel trumpet tree and ran to me, a naked Hawaiian God in the garden of Eden.

“A flower for A.J,” he said, handing me a beautiful yellow bloom.

He could not have seen it, but arcing over his head was a rainbow. Anyone who reads my books knows that the presence of a rainbow in Hawaiian lore, signifies ali’i, royalty.

How apt, I thought, for a rainbow to appear right over the most beautiful man in the world.

Aloha oe,


Currently listening:
Home Malanai
By Leokane Pryor
Release date: 2008-08-05

Pulling for the Troops

Current mood:  blissful
Category: Life

It is my turn to blog ar Seven Wicked Writers today and here is what I posted:

I volunteer each month at my local library’s book sales and yesterday as we packed up our boxes and broke down the tables after another packed event, I was given an unusual request:  pull two boxes of books for our troops in Iraq and Afghanistan.

Pulling books is something I do regularly for the various organizations I volunteer for: Union Rescue Mission, a couple of animal groups…but pulling for the troops turned out to be a very tough order to fulfill.

What do you send a group of men at war?

I was given strict guidelines and this made is easier, yet harder….oh…let me explain. Library book boxes carry 30-40 books. I had trouble filling one box, let alone two.

I was told not to put in any fiction or non fiction pertaining to either of these two conflicts. This cut out some interesting paperbacks such as The Sewing Club of Kabul, Jarhead, and 90% of the current non fiction being published.

Our troops have access to DVD players. I was told not to pack anything violent or with any sort of female nudity (I assumed this was because they are being shipped to Muslim countries).

This left an old Shirley Temple movie, Curly Top.

“But you can see her knees,” one of my co-workers said. “Wouldn’t that be considered provocative?”

We did have a good laugh (sorry, but the idea of Shirley Temple offending anyone was kind of bizarre). It soon emerged that the woman who had asked our library volunteers for the donations is a bit of an old fuddy-duddy, so I relaxed my search requirements a little.

I did find a DVD documentary that I could never personally watch in a million years – a hidden, hideous expose on the devastating lives of shelter dogs. I pondered packing something that might perk up a soldier if he thinks he’s not the only living creature in hell. Then I remembered that sadistic puppy killing Marine in Iraq and I abandoned the idea.

Do you send a soldier self- help books? He’s Just Not that into You or what about Why Me: How to deal with life’s Crises? How to Make ANYBODY Fall in Love with You? Nope, I don’t think so.

Angels and Demons is still hot fiction. The Da Vinci Code we don’t even bother to sell anymore we get so many copies and they go on the free cart for cheap/broke library patrons. I tucked a copy of each in case the troops care about Jesus and Mary doing the hokey-pokey and moved along the rows.

Nothing political. This cuts out Michael Moore and Rush Limbaugh – two huge authors in the re-sell market.  Humor. Hmmm…I found a book that we all thought was hysterical and I hope the troops do too: Bitter with Baggage Seeks Same. Somebody with a wicked-good sense of humor photographed fake chickens in a variety of life situations. A great deal of care and thought has gone into this book and it made each and every person I showed it to, laugh out loud. Yep, that one was a keeper.

I pulled some music CDs: Mary J. Blige, the soundtrack to Saturday Night Fever, Lara Fabian, Kelly Clarkson, Soul II Soul, a DVD of one of my favorite movies, Chocolat, Lawrence of Arabia, Little Miss Sunshine and Aloha, Scooby Doo.

I pulled some YA fiction because we do have young men on the battlefront. I sent some hot titles such as Harry Potter and a spoof Harry Plodder and the Twilight series. I do hope vampires are not considered violent.

I sent over some brand new Mad magazines. What, me worry?

I sent some Calvin and Hobbes, Doonesbury, a few Tom Wolfe novels, Ice-T’s autobiography and then quickly found myself pondering the sports books. Baseball. Basketball. Who doesn’t love Michael Jordan? I found some blank journals destined for the free cart and swiped them and tucked some pens into the boxes. Who knows, maybe they want to take notes?

 I closed the lids and sent a silent prayer to our troops and all they have sacrificed for us.

For the guy who opens up the first box and finds Carmen Electra’s deluxe four volume Stripper Workout  DVDs, you are so welcome!

 I wish I could be a fly on the wall when this one changes hands. I’m not into chicks and it even looked hot to me!

If you could send a book, CD or movie to a soldier, what would you send him and why?

Aloha oe,


Currently listening:
Colour Moving and Still
By Chantal Kreviazuk
Release date: 2000-04-18

Bride Sues Wedding Guest

Current mood:  bouncy
Category: News and Politics

It’s my turn to blog at The Many Shades of Life and Love today and here is what I posted:
Have you caught up with the NY Post’s big story about a woman, Sandrina Purdum suing a wedding guest for wrecking her wedding?
In case you haven’t, this kinda thing tickles my funny bone. Sorry Sandra, but it does.
Seems that her wedding to hubby Harold Purdum last September was disrupted by his boss – believe it or not – Jennifer Angevine, who leaped to her feet during the ceremony and shouted out that Sandrina was messing up Harold’s life.
She then announced she’d been having an affair with him!
“Me and Harry were good together. You had to ruin everything by marrying him. You fucked everything up!” Sandrina Purdum quotes Angevine as saying.
Harold denies any hanky-panky (any smart man would. It’s in our genetic code: deny, deny, deny) but I am really not here to analyze whether or not he engaged in a bit of the ol’ glass ceiling.
My issue is this. Who invited this nutbag?
I mean, if Harold was doing what she alleges, did he really think this was a good idea inviting her to the most sacred day of his life?
If he’s innocent, then how much booze was involved.
According to the Post, Angevine threw a drink at a guest and seventy other guests were ejected after a fight broke out.
If it isn’t true, I personally think Sandrina should have beaten the crap out of her, had her escorted from the premises (a wedding hall in Queens) and proceeded to get the best revenge: a long and happy married life.
But no. The unhappy couple didn’t even spend their wedding night together, a lawsuit is involved and Harold manfully quit his job but is now unemployed.
Sandrina blames the wedding guest from hell for her dream day being ruined.
I have been to enough Greek weddings (and alas, been a groomsman at enough of them to have experienced some major dramas) to know this was not the ideal situation but according to the Post, Sandrina says she wants a family but can’t even think about having a baby because she no longer trusts her husband.
I find this very sad. Even if he did bang the boss, Sandrina got her man. My feeling is she should move on and get busy procreating.
And when they have a renewal of vows, my suggestion is no alcohol should be involved.
What about you? If this was your wedding, what would you do?

Aloha oe,


Currently listening:
By Sharleen Spiteri
Release date: 2008-07-15

Easter People

Current mood:  dorky
Category: Life

It’s my turn to blog at Seven Wicked Writers and here is what I wrote:
Last night I attended the penultimate event in my Greek Orthodox church’s social calendar: the resurrection service, which starts at 11pm and winds down around 2am. My friends and family arrived early, filling the entire front pew by 10 o’clock. 
I’d like to say it’s because we’re so religious, but really, we like to be first in line to a) take communion before all the weird-looking people get their mouths on that communal spoon and b) there are the Easter eggs they hand out, only if you stay until the very end.
The night before, my god daughter Eleanna got a kick out of the fact that actor Tom Hanks, one of our most prominent members, carried the flower-bedecked epitaph around the church. He looked exhausted having flown in from some movie location or other, but he smiled at her and Eleanna was entranced.
I am a practicing Buddhist but I was born Greek Orthodox and I still love the traditions of my church, especially at Easter. Our priest, Father John is a wonderful man who knows his flock and loves us for our flaws and triumphs and Saturday night is his big night.
I wait all year to hear what he has to say on Saturday night and midway through the service, my best friend Tony curled up asleep beside me, I took a look over my shoulder and was stunned to see the Greek Orthodox Cathedral in east L.A. was packed.
Father John has attracted an eclectic crowd to our church. I saw people of many races and many different Orthodox religions. Father John beamed at the congregation.
“We are all Easter people,” he said. “This is our religion. Our religion says we have a new beginning, each and every year. We embrace the new. We let go of the old. We let go of the hurts, the angers, the disillusionment. Here, we forget our troubles. Here, we know we are safe.”
Father John is a kind and courageous man. I have always loved the fact our church is so humane. He reaches out to everyone in his community and recently traveled to Constantinople with the Archbishop of the Greek Orthodox Archdiocese, hurrying home because he’s about to be a grandfather.
Our priests are allowed to marry and have families. They don’t tell us how to conduct our sex lives, unlike the Catholic church.
I listened to Father John talking and noticed Tony springing to life at 1.30 in the morning when it came time for communion.
“Where are the Easter eggs?” he moaned. “I’m so disappointed.”
“They’re coming,” I said and wondered if the altar boy would notice if I took two cubes of bread on my way through the communion line.
So yes, I was moved by Father John’s speech but I was also excited about my Easter egg. Last year, See’s Candy donated tons of their most expensive selection, which thrilled everybody. Somebody’s been tightening their money belt because this year, we each received a traditional, hard-boiled egg dyed red.
“It’s not chocolate truffle, is it,” Tony griped. “You made me sit through this for a hard-boiled egg?”
“The wine was pretty good,” I replied.
“A.J. it was a spoonful of wine, but yeah, I must admit it was pretty tasty. Do you suppose they’ll mind if I jump in line for seconds?”
In the end, he didn’t. We walked down the darkened streets of an otherwise shabby neighborhood in the glow of a church that is promising us new beginnings. We munched our eggs with one hand, holding our lit candles in the other. In Greek tradition, you are supposed to walk home with your candle burning. Should it extinguish, it’s considered bad luck. However, since we were driving, it was impossible to keep the candles aflame.
We all counted to three and blew them out. Choosing to extinguish puts us in control, we decided. That’s the promise, and I hope, not an illusion, of new beginnings.
Yes, I am an Easter person and today, I wish you good fortune, good happiness, wonderful new beginnings and lots and lots of chocolate.
Aloha oe,

Currently listening:
By Nelly Furtado
Release date: 2006-06-20

Too Gay For Prime Time?

Current mood:  creative
Category: Movies, TV, Celebrities


It’s my turn to blog at Sensual N Secret today and here is what I posted:

I’ve had a few emails from people asking me – point blank – if Adam Lambert has a chance of winning American Idol or is he simply ‘too gay’ for most of America to ‘get him?’
The question has frankly offended me but now that the final weeks of the show are waning and his private photos are showing up all over the place, I feel I have to step up, take the bat and knock one out of the gay park for him.
He is simply one of the best, most original, inspired, naturally talented performers America has ever seen. Period.
I don’t care if he likes to kiss boys or purple peonies. He is so far and above the rest of the pack on this show that the constant question of his gayness seems bizarre.
From the beginning it was obvious it would come down to him and stunning 16-year old Allison. It’ll be a three-way race between them and Danny but I believe ultimately talent will win.
Adam has that special ‘something’ that I do think America gets. All that talent and his plain niceness also shines through. It’s a rare and unbeatable combination.
Leaking his kissy-boy pics on the Internet doesn’t seem to have hurt him so far and I am glad that people can see past his private life and enjoy his talent for what it is.
Absolutely awesome.
Most of my friends tune in to see what he’s going to come up with each week and his ingenuity each and every time is dazzling.
And yet, I google his name and the snide critics always throw in the word gay.
Heck, I market myself as a gay erotic romance author but this is my niche. I’ve had people on MySpace decline me as a friend, I suspect for that very reason, but I don’t see people plastering my private pics on the web asking if I’m too gay to sell books!
Sex is great. Sex is my bread and butter as a writer. But what an artist – any artist – chooses to do with somebody they love really has nothing to do with their ability to sell their work.
Adam Lambert is the best new ambassador for music. Period. Regardless of his private passions.
I hope America doesn’t disappoint me in four weeks, but then I tend to lead with my heart.
I truly believe Adam Lambert is one of the most exciting, talented new performers I’ve seen in a long time.
I hope America feels the same way.

Aloha oe,

Currently listening:
Kamalei: Collection – Two
By Kealii Reichel
Release date: 2008-12-09

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