Ganymede and an Eminent Maricón…

sanjuancharlie1Guess what?

Lots of great news for you—and for me, too.

I just finished interviewing award-winning Colombian-born writer and scholar Jaime Manrique for the post that goes up on July 15th, parallel to the publication of Ambiente in Miami. Jaime and I discussed his books Eminent Maricones, Twilight at the Equator and Latin Moon in Manhattan, which I read in succession for the interview.

The readers for the next PANIC! reading on Wednesday, July 29th are Kari Hoerchler, Jason Baumann, Chadwick Moore and Lee Houck. They’ll be reading stories and poetry with “heat” themes, so bring sun-block, cold water, and cold cream. Looking forward…I’ve also been asked to curate two readings for the NYC Public Library in September and will have news on those soon.

As I was researching literary journals to submit stories to, I learned of Ganymede and its editor John Stahle. Now, for those of you who forgot your basic Greek mythology, Ganymede was the beautiful boy who Zeus fell in love with (yes, even Zeus was bisexual). And not just that, my darlings, they’re documented as having been lovers (close your eyes now).

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So this post’s look into literary matters…

It was one of those discoveries that made my Spanish blood race through my veins—a new publication of gay male art and literature that champions—and with edgy splendor—our creative desire, history, and future. Ganymede is a paperback compendium published four times a year and is the creation of John Stahle, a New York-based writer, editor, and designer. I came across his refreshing new publication while researching new and exciting publishing channels.

Ganymede features artists from New York and around the world, and in its first four issues has spotlighted dazzling Latino talent—from the haunting photographs of Israel Márquez (an industrial design student from Jalisco, Mexico) to Marco Diaz’s surrealist self-portraits. Also covered is a photographic “spread” of Muscle Ramon, a Herculean Spanish bodybuilder and a piece titled “The Height of Queens” discusses Mexican and Colombian cuisine (as well as other non-Latin flavors).

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Issue Four includes Daniel Schultz’s tantalizing photographs of Brazilian hunks, which kept my eyes mesmerized for more than a few minutes, and Texas photographer Pablo Moran’s shots of narcissistic desire gave me something curious to study for just as long. Mister Stahle seeks out work that is edgy, intelligent, and sexy—he has sophisticated, laser-beam eyes. The writing is diverse and features everything from legendary writers such as Oscar Wilde, to up-and-coming gay poets. Future issues will feature contemporary queer lit names such as Edmund White and David Sedaris…

John took a few minutes to talk about Ganymede and other things queer, political, and beautiful.

CV: So tell us a little bit about your background and what inspired you to start producing Ganymede, which is an ambitious and tasteful assemblage of erotic queer male art and word. Does Ganymede have a particular mission it’s trying to fulfill?

JS: To be gay—which means not to be boring. Some of the writers I outreached early on felt that gay literary journals should be high-minded, chaste, Protestant, with no visuals, certainly no male-form photography. Of course, all the gay journals of this description are gone now. They were boring, and to me and many others that meant they were not gay. Every text in Ganymede is illustrated with striking conceptual photography, and between articles, we present the work of some nine cutting-edge gay photographers from all over the world per issue, in portfolios of as many as 20 pages. In these portfolios, there are no ads or intrusive text. You are alone with their art—fascinating first-rate art. It can be quite overwhelming.

CV: There’s an identifiable queer male aesthetic you’re upholding that continues in the tradition of queer pioneers of word and image such as William S. Burroughs, Robert Mapplethorpe, Salvador Dalí, Oscar Wilde, Caravaggio, Francis Bacon, Walt Whitman, Federico García Lorca, and countless others. What do you surmise is this style’s organic origin?

JS: I guess that’s for others to say. As we grow, we morph organically, pulling in marvelous varied content from the gay outside. Our sixth issue, for January 2010, will have a dozen gay poets all in one section (more fun that way), each writing with a very different voice, each illustrated by really interesting photographs.

CV: There’s been a tradition executed by our enemies over many centuries—I call it a conspiracy—to carefully edit out, or dilute, queer characters in literature and drama, which makes our true selves invisible to many and only detected by those who can “see” us by “coded” means. Would you say that Ganymede is like a sanctuary for our true selves, where our uninhibited art can survive without fear or shame?

JS: We certainly present uninhibited art and texts, but we also reprint 19th-century texts by famous writers who were obliged to write in code…for instance, Robert Louis Stevenson’s homoerotic mystery stories from his “Suicide Club.” Such work is fascinating too, especially since today we can enjoy coded writing without being oppressed by it.

CV: How can artists, photographers and writers contact Ganymede for submissions queries?

JS: Our main website is at http://www.ganymedenyc.com/ and submission guidelines are at
http://ganymedesubmissions.blogspot.com/

Bravo!

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See you in a couple weeks, when I will publish my interview with Jaime Manrique and more…xoxo CV

The Sacred Sin – Virtual Latino Book Tour #1

charlierincon3Queer Latino Musings on Literature is proud to be participating in the first ever “Virtual Latino Book Tour”, which is debuting on the blogosphere with the very talented Puerto Rican-American writer Estevan Vega. Estevan, who is an impressive twenty years old and has already published a few books, will be available for questions, etc, right here on this blog page, via the “Comments” section, on Thursday, June 25th. So if you have things you’d like to ask him, fire away! Here is his artist statement and an excerpt from his latest book, The Sacred Sin.

 

Estevan

Hello, world,

 

My name is Estevan Vega. I’m a writer. That’s usually all I like to tell people. That and that I’m not crazy about speaking in front of people, or really attractive girls. Scratch that…any girl. Some of you might have heard of me, but most of you probably haven’t. Don’t worry, I won’t hold it against you. But, if you care to know, I write fiction, and have a tendency to be very transparent. So, here it goes.

 

As a kid, I would have told you that reading books was the farthest thing from entertainment. I never really appreciated the written word and absolutely hated books…until the fifth grade, when I realized I might actually have to like them if I were going to start contributing to the collection. From small short stories and fictional essays for school, I began to take a liking to darker, supernatural elements, and have since enjoyed incorporating them into each story. As the second of four sons, sometimes I felt like the “monkey in the middle.” I liked to write when my brothers couldn’t stand to read. Rock music constantly poured out of my speakers, while they took a liking to rap and hip-hop. Oh, did I mention I was chubby? Needless to say, I felt somewhat out of place at times, even in my own house. But, I can’t say I’m fully bitter, because it gave me some good writing material, personal experience, and pent-up aggression, which occasionally breathes out of the more cynical characters I create, like Jude Foster in The Sacred Sin.

 

Publishing a book is no easy feat. I learned that firsthand as a sophomore in high school, when I published Servant of the Realm. My first literary venture was a sci-fi thriller about a teen who steals a corrupting serum which allows him to see the deaths of those closest to him. He spends much of the novel trying to change their fates and gets addicted to these horrible circumstances. The Sacred Sin, my second novel, was released when I was 18, and deals with a deeper subject: the darkness within all of us. It’s about struggling with the demons surrounding us—literal and figurative—as well as warring against the inner demons urging us to do the darkest things.

 

I have lived in Connecticut all my life, moving to and from various cities, but never fully escaping. I now reside in a small town called Portland, but have spent the last year up by Boston at Gordon College.

 

And now, here’s a taste of The Sacred Sin.

 

It felt so real again, like he was living it over, only this time he could rewind it, fast-forward it, freeze it. Each time it grew more painful, truer. Engle Baker, the miserable soul whom the rest of the outside world knew as Morgan’s daddy, was still whispering that name to him now, so many years later. It was real, not just memory.

 

Morgan walked into the bathroom and shut the door. It was dark, the way things usually were in the Baker house. A fracture of light fought its way in through the bottom slit in the door, but the darkness was too great. He shuddered. Something was nudging up against his foot. At first, he became startled, but it was just the body of his father, the remains at least. At this point in time, the fleshy parts were completely unidentifiable, a gash where the throat used to be now decayed and bony so as to appear as though there never was one at all. The holes where each eyeball once was were hollow and black; Morgan hated it when people stared at him, most of all Engle. But he didn’t even mind the stench anymore. Incensed and afraid again, Morgan took out a blade and put it into his hand, feeling the blood drain from his body. But no matter how hard he squeezed, no matter how deep the wound, it kept closing up. He hated not being able to hurt himself, not able to kill the pain. He kept the blade tucked into the flesh of his palm for nearly five minutes. Tears swelled in his eyes, irate painful tears. Real tears. Morgan hadn’t cried in twenty years, but tonight—for a few moments—he remembered what it was like to be human.

 

Look for me on my first ever Virtual Blog Tour, and visit www.estevanvega.com for ordering info, my personal blog, and up-to-date news on the development of my latest novel Arson, releasing later this year.

 

Here are Estevan’s host blogs for his tour, courtesy of Julia Amante’s blog. These other blogs will be of interest to many Queer Latino Musings on Literature readers, too!

 

June 14
Eljumpingbean

http://authorslatino.com/wordpress

http://eljumpingbean.blogspot.com
Hilarious! Don’t miss it.

June 15
Latinitas Magazine
http://www.latinitasmagazine.org

June 16
The Art of Random Willynillyness.com
Carol in Carolina
http://theartofrandomwillynillyness.blogspot.com
http://caroincarolina.blogspot.com

June 17
Caridad Pineiro
http://www.caridad.com/

June 18
Writing to Insanity
http://www.locacrazywriter.blogspot.com

June 19
Julia Amante
http://www.juliaamante.comblogspot.com/

June 20
Musings
http://Nilkibenitez.blogspot.com

June 21
rafaelMarquez.me
http://www.rafaelmarquez.me

June 22
Latina Reader
http://blogs.qoobole.com/latina-reader

June 23
Café of Deams
http://cafeofdreams.blogspot.com/

June 24
Latino Pundit
http://www.latinopundit.com

June 25
Queer Latino Musings on Literature
http://charlievazquez.wordpress.com/

June 26
Mama Latina Tips
http://www.mamalatinatips.com

June 27
Latino Book Examiner
http://www.examiner.com/x-6309-Latino-Books-Examiner

 

For those of you who are visting me for the first time, my name is Charlie Vázquez and I’m a Brooklyn-based gay writer of Cuban and Puerto Rican extraction. This blog functions alongside my book reviews and interviews with authors in AMBIENTE, the largest Latino LGBT culture e-zine www.ambiente.us. I also host a popular reading series in New York called PANIC!, which features different lineups of LGBT writers and others. I would like to thank Estevan Vega and Jo Ann Hernandez (organizer) for having me be a part of his tour and encourage you, if you don’t already subscribe to my blog, to register for my bimonthly newsletters, which feature interviews with Latino writers and book reviews on books of interest to Latinos, with an emphasis on our LGBT community (scroll down a bit). It’s time to increase the exchange of culture between the queer community and the community-at-large, in these changing times. 

 

Coming next time: An interview with John Stahle, the editor of Ganymede, a stylish and sexy men’s literature and art quartlery published in New York. www.ganymedenyc.com

 

To receive my bimonthly posts straight to your email, register here: http://feedburner.google.com/fb/a/mailverify?uri=CharlieVazquez

 

 

Charlie Vázquez

writer, book reviewer, and PANIC! reading series host

 

Home page: http://www.firekingpress.com

Published in:  on June 23, 2009 at 4:39 PM Comments (11)
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Double Pride PANIC!, Dancing with the Devil and Virtual Latino Book Tour #1

rinconcharlie1

Hello, pretty little doves!

Moving right into things—DOUBLE PRIDE PANIC! is coming up on Wednesday, June 24th, 8PM sharp. This event is free and 21+. NOWHERE is located at 322 E 14th St (btwn 1st/2nd) and we’re hoping you can join us for a wonderful evening that will feature six queer writers of color. Come join Vince Bernard, Rosalind Lloyd, Ian Rafael Titus, Taylor Siluwé, Claudia Narvaez-Meza and Brandon Lacy Campos, for what surely will be a fierce reading of poetry and prose. I’m thrilled to be hosting.

 

I interviewed one of the aforementioned presenters, Taylor Siluwé, for the June 15th issue of Ambiente, regarding his new book and what gets him “Dancing with the Devil”, which is the name of his fresh, new fiction collection. You can read that here www.ambiente.us. Ambiente also posted a book review I wrote for the hair-raising Tales of the City of Mexico (Lethe 2002). Both of these books are terrific!

On the radical news front: The Radical Homosexual Agenda contacted me recently, notifying me of their third-annual PARADE WITHOUT A PERMIT, which they’re holding at Washington Square Park, on Friday, June 19th, 9PM. If this sounds interesting to you, check them out here:

radicalhomosexualagenda.org

Latina lesbian comedienne Marga Gomez is performing in NYC from Thursday, June 18th through Sunday the 21st at the Puerto Rican Traveling Theater on W 47th Street and 8th Avenue. Her new show Long Island Iced Latina chronicles her Long Island childhood and is sure to be a bellyacher. Don’t miss her if you can help it—we’re going on Saturday night. Check Marga Gomez out here: http://www.margagomez.com/

Queer Latino Musings on Literature is proud to be participating in the first-ever “Latino Virtual Book Tour”, which is debuting on the blogosphere with the very talented Puerto Rican-American writer Estevan Vega. Estevan will be available for questions, etc, right here on this blog page via the Comments section, on June 25th, all day. So if you have things you’d like to ask him, fire away! Here is his artist statement and an excerpt from his latest book, The Sacred Sin.


sacred

Hello, world,

My name is Estevan Vega. I’m a writer. That’s usually all I like to tell people. That and that I’m not crazy about speaking in front of people, or really attractive girls. Scratch that…any girl. Some of you might have heard of me, but most of you probably haven’t. Don’t worry, I won’t hold it against you. But, if you care to know, I write fiction, and have a tendency to be very transparent. So, here it goes.

As a kid, I would have told you that reading books was the farthest thing from entertainment. I never really appreciated the written word and absolutely hated books…until the fifth grade, when I realized I might actually have to like them if I were going to start contributing to the collection. From small short stories and fictional essays for school, I began to take a liking to darker, supernatural elements, and have since enjoyed incorporating them into each story. As the second of four sons, sometimes I felt like the “monkey in the middle.” I liked to write when my brothers couldn’t stand to read. Rock music constantly poured out of my speakers, while they took a liking to rap and hip-hop. Oh, did I mention I was chubby? Needless to say, I felt somewhat out of place at times, even in my own house. But, I can’t say I’m fully bitter, because it gave me some good writing material, personal experience, and pent-up aggression, which occasionally breathes out of the more cynical characters I create, like Jude Foster in The Sacred Sin.


Publishing a book is no easy feat. I learned that firsthand as a sophomore in high school, when I published Servant of the Realm. My first literary venture was a sci-fi thriller about a teen who steals a corrupting serum which allows him to see the deaths of those closest to him. He spends much of the novel trying to change their fates and gets addicted to these horrible circumstances. The Sacred Sin, my second novel, was released when I was 18, and deals with a deeper subject: the darkness within all of us. It’s about struggling with the demons surrounding us—literal and figurative—as well as warring against the inner demons urging us to do the darkest things.

I have lived in Connecticut all my life, moving to and from various cities, but never fully escaping. I now reside in a small town called Portland, but have spent the last year up by Boston at Gordon College.

And now, here’s a taste of The Sacred Sin.

It felt so real again, like he was living it over, only this time he could rewind it, fast-forward it, freeze it. Each time it grew more painful, truer. Engle Baker, the miserable soul whom the rest of the outside world knew as Morgan’s daddy, was still whispering that name to him now, so many years later. It was real, not just memory.

Morgan walked into the bathroom and shut the door. It was dark, the way things usually were in the Baker house. A fracture of light fought its way in through the bottom slit in the door, but the darkness was too great. He shuddered. Something was nudging up against his foot. At first, he became startled, but it was just the body of his father, the remains at least. At this point in time, the fleshy parts were completely unidentifiable, a gash where the throat used to be now decayed and bony so as to appear as though there never was one at all. The holes where each eyeball once was were hollow and black; Morgan hated it when people stared at him, most of all Engle. But he didn’t even mind the stench anymore. Incensed and afraid again, Morgan took out a blade and put it into his hand, feeling the blood drain from his body. But no matter how hard he squeezed, no matter how deep the wound, it kept closing up. He hated not being able to hurt himself, not able to kill the pain. He kept the blade tucked into the flesh of his palm for nearly five minutes. Tears swelled in his eyes, irate painful tears. Real tears. Morgan hadn’t cried in twenty years, but tonight—for a few moments—he remembered what it was like to be human.

Look for me in the coming weeks on my first ever Virtual Blog Tour, and visit www.estevanvega.com for ordering info, my personal blog, and up-to-date news on the development of my latest novel Arson, releasing later this year.

Thanks Estevan!

And thank you to all my wonderful readers!!!

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xoxo Charlie Vázquez

Published in:  on June 15, 2009 at 4:15 PM Comments (1)
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Christ Like’s Emanuel Xavier on the Ballroom Days and More…

EX3

I met Emanuel Xavier shortly after moving back to my native New York City in 2006 and I’m constantly floored by his gentle and sincere demeanor, considering all the horrors he’s survived as a former hustler, drug dealer, and victim of sexual abuse. The charismatic and prolific Mr. Xavier has crafted the self-published poetry volume Pier Queen, the much-acclaimed Americano (Suspect Thoughts, 2002), edited the anthologies Bullets and Butterflies: queerspoken word poetry (Suspect Thoughts, 2005) and Mariposas: A Modern Anthology of Queer Latino Poetry (Floricanto, 2008)—as well as the titan erotica collection Best Gay Erotica 2008 (Cleis Press, 2007). Xavier is celebrating the ten-year anniversary reprinting of his 1999 breakthrough novel Christ Like (Rebel Satori 2009), a semi-autobiographical account of the myriad difficulties plaguing “Mikey X”, his literary doppelganger. Christ Like follows Mikey’s labyrinthine journey; from dealing with his teenage homosexuality to being introduced to the 1990s Manhattan “pier” and “ballroom” cultures—with all of their prickly side dishes of muscular heartthrobs, awkward heroes, plentiful drugs, endless sex and fierce, shady egos. Emanuel and I discussed Christ Like’s resurrection and what gets him going as a gay Latino writer.

 

CV: I wasn’t living in New York in the 1990s, but remember catching glimpses of your fierce, gay street warrior characters on my frequent trips back. What do you think was the allure of engaging in crime, for minority, inner-city queer kids? The 1990s are documented as being a time of economic expansion, but not for everyone, right?

 

EX: Growing up in a city like [1970s-1980s] New York exposes one to far more violence than say growing up in Beverly Hills. Developing thick skin is crucial for survival wherever you grow up, but for minority inner-city youth, options are sometimes limited, so crime has a natural appeal. Rebellion is in the air and queer youth are already supposedly going to hell. Throw in a broken childhood, a dash of prejudice, and the hustle and bustle of one of the most infamous cities of the world and self-destruction is quite seductive. The 1990s may have been a great economic time, but not for those
marginalized because of skin color or sexuality.

 

CV: I take it that the ballroom scene still exists to a degree? How involved are you and how different is it nowadays, as compared to the 1990s?

 

EX: The ballroom scene is very much still alive. Like any community, great leaders have passed away or moved on, but there’s always going to be someone ready to step into the limelight. It’s just different because there are more safe spaces, visible role models, and opportunities to communicate and create relationships for queer youth. There will always be, however, a need for support and self-expression. Trying to carve out a niche for myself as a writer does not, unfortunately, lend itself to being more actively involved in the ballroom scene. But I like to think that pursuing my dreams might inspire someone in the ballroom scene to recognize that there is more to life than simply winning a trophy for walking a runway.

 

CV: You mention (in the book’s introduction) your insecurity as a fledgling writer when putting Christ Like together ten years ago. How do you feel about it now? My theory is that a great storyteller is a great storyteller, period.

 

EX: I had no formal training or experience except for a self-published poetry collection. I was written off as a ‘flash in the pan’ and I’ve never had an agent to guide my career. I only had thick skin to survive the critics and convinced myself that this book was worth publication. Before some privileged white artist stepped in to exploit my life, I wanted to share my own experiences. They probably would have reaped more benefits than I ever would, but I do feel grateful to have been genuinely welcomed by the queer literary scene, let alone having gotten this book published. I think it’s incredible when you get the chance as a writer to revise something you put out in haste, because you were given a unique opportunity. I don’t think I changed it much, just tweaked it here and there, and I’m excited about giving it a second chance.

CV: Any advice for young, aspiring writers whose odds seem against them?

EX: (Laughs) I always get that question. Nobody wants to hear that you should just be passionate about your work because there is little-to-no money made from publishing for queer writers, especially of color. Unless you could be the next E. Lynn Harris or get your book optioned for film like Sapphire’s “Push”, it’s best to keep writing for the sake of documenting our histories and enjoy whatever comes from it without further expectations. The greatest reward is inspiring others to share their own voices. Anything else that comes along is that much more appreciated. I was supposed to end up a washed up pier queen, but I was just in Belgium for a queer literary kinship symposium! I suppose I could say that my life is a testament that anything is possible, no matter what limitations are imposed on you by others.
 

CV: So tell us what we can expect from Emanuel Xavier in the future.

 

EX: I have a new poetry collection coming out this fall and, if things work out, I might have other opportunities for reaching a wider audience. I’m still as ambitious now as I was when I first started. The only difference is that I no longer have to prove I could change my life around and that I am serious about becoming a writer.

Amen, hermano.

 


Christ Like can be purchased at the Rebel Satori store: www.rebelsatori.
com/shop

 

 

Photo by: © Shirley Miranda-Rodriguez, Somos Arte, 2009 www.somosarte.com

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Charlie Vázquez

www.firekingpress.com