Best Doggone Blocks of 2010

And now, the nominees for Best of the Blocks 2010 in the category "Best Block from When In Doubt, Pet the Dog," a periodic memoir or journal, or blog thingy:

Grumpy Old Dogs: Story of two old dogs who've been wrestling buds since puppyhood.

A Whole Lotta Pettin' Going On: Do you believe in talking dogs whose words can be translated onto an internet blog for Pet the Dog Week at Randy Boyd's Blocks?

Hip Loves Walt Loves the Bearcat: Canine host of Pet the Dog Week barks about his literary debut in author's fourth novel.

The Bitch with Cancer in Her Throat: Heart-wrenching tale of the courageous dog who almost won the starring role in When In Doubt, Pet the Dog.

Dog Over Troubled Waters: Lighthearted story of a new dog owner's misguided attempts to introduced his new puppy to water.

Dog Years: Author copes with his dog's aging by discrediting humans' miscalculation of a dog's age.

And the winner is ... every block labeled When In Doubt, Pet the Dog, now and forever at Randy Boyd's Blocks!

Food Services Is Closed for the Night

Boomer's a beggar. Whenever there's food, he's there with those big, brown eyes, giving me that look, the one he hopes earns him a piece of ... something, anything.

I guess I can't blame my twelve-year-old golden mutt. Aren't all dogs beggars?

Some historians theorize it was young wolf cubs begging around early man's campfires that led to the creation of man's best friend.

Still, you'd think two squares a day, plus treats, would be enough for my best friend.

"Some days, I feel like a treat machine."

Not so. Boomer wants a piece of everything, even though I rarely give him anything. Anything that is, except his food and the occasional bit of people food.

Did I mention the chicken breast treat he gets each and every time we come in the house after he's done his business? Or something good?

Some days, I feel like a treat machine, or a dorm cafeteria worker, which has to explain the phrase I came up with to give myself a respite from my dog's begging.

I say it as I'm tidying up the kitchen before going to bed. Naturally, Boomer joins me with that hungry face that says, pretty please?

That's when I look directly into those big, brown eyes and utter the one thing that puts an end to the begging:

"Food services is closed for the night."

At which point Boomer lowers his head in resignation, exits the kitchen and goes to sleep. At which point I exhale with relief to know the stalking, excuse me, begging, is over, at least for another day.

Best of Trikke Randy in 2010

And now, the nominees for Best of the Blocks 2010 in the category Best Trikke Randy Block:

So You Think You Can Trikke: Sound advice for those shopping for a Trikke and wondering, Dealer or No Dealer?

Big Boys, Big Toys: Celebration of big guys and the big Trikkes they love to ride.

Scariest Halloween Trikke Ride Ever: Thriller about a trikker's worst enemy: rain.

Thankful for My Trikke: Joyous ruminations on the reasons for loving Trikke.

Trikkers Love Trikking in Long Beach: Ride report wrap-up of the first-ever, organized Trikke ride in Long Beach, California.

10 Things I Learned While Trikking: Whimsical observations made while Trikking.

And the winner is ... every block labeled Trikke Randy, now and forever at Randy Boyd's Blocks.

eBook it!

Journey over the Bridge Across the Ocean, or come face to face with the Devil Inside like never before with Randy Boyd's ebooks, now available at the Barnes & Noble online store.

Both novels were Lambda Literary Award Finalists. Now both novels can be downloaded and read on digital devices, including your PC, Mac, iPhone, iPod Touch, iPad, Blackberry or nook.

Your on-the-go, digital reading options just got better with the Bridge Across the Ocean and the Devil Inside, now available as ebooks!

Best Obama Blocks of 2010

And now, the nominees for Best of the Blocks 2010 in the category Best Obama Files Block:

Party Like It's 1947: Just when you thought it was safe to walk into a integrated restaurant, racism rears its ugly, ignorant head again.

Black People: Your President Needs You!: Reminder to the black folk of America: you would not be better off with a white president of either party.

The Secret to Obama's Success: How does this man keep defying odds and getting things done? Obama's got a secret.

We Are the Kennedy Babies: Ode to the newborn babies born during the 1,000 days of the Kennedy Administration.

President Obama's Faults: Compliation of all for which the first black president is to blame. And then some.

And the winner is ... every block labeled the Obama Files, now and forever at Randy Boyd's Blocks.

How To Make Santa Claus Work for You

Not satisfied with Santa? Unhappy with the gifts life gives you? Wondering why you never get what you want? Reminder to kids of all ages: be very specific about your dreams.

It's a lesson learned by one Bear Coleman in Walt Loves the Bearcat, a story of love, football and some very potent daydreams. Roll clip!


“Think back to something you asked Santa Claus for,” said B.O. “Doesn’t matter if it was the real Santa or your parents--whoever it was that made your Christmas dreams come true. Go back to when you believed a Santa existed in your life, and you asked that Santa for something, something you were full of passion over, something you just had to have, or life as you knew it would cease to exist.”

“At this age, I have a definite answer for that,” said Bear. “But as a kid--I don’t remember him being so attached to any one boy--I mean toy.”

“Either one,” said B.O.

“I did ask for a microscope one time, but I don’t remember it being a big deal,” said Bear. “In fact, I really never played with it. How do you play with a microscope? I guess I never asked Santa for much.”

“I’ll give you my point for free anyway,” sighed B.O. “Most kids get passionate over something they want for Christmas. When they do, the quest begins. They know exactly what they want, the color, the size, the accessories, where to get it, everything crucial to their dream. They make sure Santa knows all those details, too. Kids don’t take chances. They know how to be very specific about their dreams, because before the world tells them otherwise, kids believe in asking for exactly what they want, then giving Santa and the world a shot at making those dreams come true.”

“What if Santa can’t afford it?” asked Bear. “Or it’s not available in the right color? Or outta stock because all the other boys and girls want him—it?”

“You really don’t have a lot of practice at this, do you?” said B.O.

“If you mean believing a white man from the North Pole is gonna make all my dreams come true, that would be a definite ... negative,” said Bear.

“Kids leave the details to Santa and Santa’s helpers, because kids understand their miracles don’t happen by themselves,” said B.O. “It takes helpers they see and don’t see, and helpers they know and don’t know. This whole Santa thing—it ain’t just a marketing gimmick, after all.”

“It ain’t?” asked Bear.

“Everything around you is here to remind you that your dreams can come true,” said B.O.

“The Green Bay Packers,” said Bear. “I fell in love with the Green Bay Packers and I wanted a Green Bay everything, t-shirt, ski cap, poster, rain jacket, bobble head. But most of all, I wanted a Green Bay Packers lettermen jacket.”

“I can tell by your glow, even in this cave, Santa delivered,” said B.O.

“She sure did,” said Bear. “Mama Rent called all over town and finally found a mall a million miles away that had one in my size. We both broke down and cried.”

“Would never have happened, if you hadn’t believed in Santa,” said B.O.

“So what--you’re my new Santa?” asked Bear.

“And if I was?” asked B.O. ...

• To see if Bear gets his wish, read Walt Loves the Bearcat. And remember, next time a Santa comes into your life, be sure to ask for exactly what you want, and for goodness sake, be specific!

Yo, Homos, Happy Now?

Historical reminder: Don't Ask, Don't Tell was the end result of newly-elected President Bill Clinton's first official blunder: assuming he could automatically do away with the military's anti-gay monolith. DADT was the tail-between-the-legs compromise, which, like the horrific economy and two wars, President Obama inherited.

Fact: The Obama Administration doesn't rush to judgment about troop deployment, let alone gay issues. The Man is a thinker before he's a doer. The president is a coalition builder and a diplomat. Do you tell Michael Jordan when to shoot? Do you tell James Bond when to spring into action?

Relax, LGBT people of America. Let the President deal with the deep shit he inherited before he gets to the fags.

—from Yo', Homos: Get Off Obama's Back!

Ryan Phillippe on Playing Gay

“I grew up in a Baptist school so I led a fairly sheltered life and I didn't know exactly how to deal with homosexuals 'cause I never had to ... I've learned that humankind as a whole needs to have more understanding for others' needs and if you can't understand someone, that shouldn't give you reason to ridicule them. That's what I hope our audience gets out of the show because that's what I've gotten out of playing the role.”

—Ryan Phillippe in One Gay Life to Live

Follow Randy Boyd's Blocks on Facebook

Got your face in the book that's the most popular social network ever invented? So far?

If the answer is yes, you, too, can follow Randy Boyd's Blocks on Facebook.

Every post on the Blocks is also posted on my profile wall.

From the Obama Files to HIV-P.O.V. to Jockin': Homos in Sports, it's all on the wall.

So if you've got your face in the book, go here to follow Randy Boyd's Blocks on Facebook.

Best Blocks for the Brain in 2010

And now, the nominees for Best of the Blocks 2010 in the category Best Sapien Homo Block:

We Interrupt this Interruption!: Theory that posits cell phones and voice mails are interrupting our enjoyment of life.

We Are the Kennedy Babies: Ode to the littlest of Americans too young to remember Camelot but affected by it just the same.

The Sins of Big Government: Reminder about what you get for all those tax dollars you pay to live in a civilized society.

New American Dictionary for Angry White People: What Republicans and Tea Partiers really mean when they evoke the red, white and blue.

Un-American Acts in America: A Brief History: Reflections on what makes America so un-American, in some people's eyes.

Cigarettes: the Real Gateway Drug: Ever notice how most of the criminals on Cops smoke?

What Makes Being a Fag Worthwhile: The truth about why life gets better after the young and the faggy grow up to be adult homosexuals.

I Love the O-Os!: A fond look back at the decade that gave us camera phones, myspace, youtube and the iPod.

Two Best Books on Religion: In praise of two controversial works that claim the gods are wearing no clothes.

AIDS and Common Sense: A smart person's guide to thinking about HIV/AIDS.

And the winner is ... every block labeled Sapien Homo, now and forever at Randy Boyd's Blocks!

I Kissed a Guy

The fall of the ban on gays in the military, also known as “Don’t Ask, Don’t Tell,” is the most important event in Gay American History since Ellen came out as, gasp, an openly gay comedienne.

So what’s next on the Gay Agenda?

The official next cause de célèbre won’t be decided until the Big Gay Convention, scheduled for 2012 in Oslo, Norway. Kidding! It doesn't take a vote to imagine the next closet door opening up: pro sports.

"Now, the concept of the gay soldier is real."

Pro athletes still don’t ask and pro athletes still don’t tell, but it’s only a matter of time. My prediction: by 2020, we’ll be watching, gasp, an openly gay pro athlete. Or two. Or more.

The cultural signposts are obvious: “guy on guy” is steadfastly becoming what “girl on girl” has become over the last 15 years: an acceptable source of eroticism in the media.

Macho actors play gay lovers on the big screen. Handsome male celebrities joke about doing other handsome male celebrities.

Two men kissing is an increasingly popular act on TV and in the movies. Pro athletes are coming out as gay-friendly.

Can the male equivilent of the hit song “I Kiss a Girl” be far behind?

Forty years ago, America was shocked when athletes started grooming themselves and hawking beauty products. Thirty years ago, America pushed back by saying, "Real men don’t eat quiche."

Twenty years ago, lesbians weren't part of our Basic Instincts. Ten years ago, men didn’t have bromances.

Now, the concept of the gay soldier is real.

I kissed a guy. Now, I can hardly wait for the first openly gay president.

One Pissant Little Photo

For 21 years, Marcus Coleman has fantasized about a lifelong romance with a handsome college quarterback he once saw in a photograph.

Thanks to the Internet, Marcus discovers the former quarterback’s whereabouts.

Thanks to a shot of tequila, Marcus dials the former quarterback’s number.

Thanks to a curious twist of fate, the former quarterback answers the phone with: “Marcus, when you coming home?”

How big a deal can one pissant little photo turn out to be?

Big enough to take you on a cool and dreamy trip through the galaxies to bear witness to the birth of a whole new super universe and worldwide generation of celestial bodies that will rock the web of the world as we know it. Huh?

Your ticket is your imagination.

Walt Loves the Bearcat
by Randy Boyd

From the Sugar Bowl to the Super Bowl, a story of love, football and some very potent daydreams.

A Lambda Literary Award Finalist for Best Romance

Available wherever books are sold

More about Walt Loves the Bearcat
Get Walt Loves the Bearcat at Amazon.com

Biography

Randy who? Click here for Randy Boyd's bio.
Author of what? Click here for Randy Boyd's novels.

Best Blocks about Surviving HIV/AIDS

And now, the nominees for Best of the Blocks 2010 in the category Best HIV-P.O.V. Block:

How To Survive Being HIV-Positive in an HIV-Negative World: Survival tools for poz people from a black man living with HIV for 25 years.

Dear Ryan White, Wish You Were Here: Letter to the teenager who was hated, then loved, then died in 1990 as the worldwide face of AIDS.

Where Were You on AIDS Night In America?: Nostalgic look at the day Rock Hudson's AIDS announcement shocked the world, and how history is repeating itself 25 years later.

How I Became HIV-Positive: Black college graduate learns he's HIV-positive by looking at TV coverage of Rock Hudson's AIDS announcement in 1985.

This Day in History: Boy Meets AIDS: Black author's reflections of the turning point in America and his own life during the 1980s AIDS crisis.

23 Years Old and HIV-Positive in 2010: Poignant comparison between the HIV-positive young of today and yesteryear.

Three Core Beliefs for a Happy Life with HIV: Poz vet reveals three beliefs that have aided him while surviving AIDS.

Proud of Being Alive: A better way of thinking about yourself if you happen to be living with HIV/AIDS.

A New Way of Looking at a-i-d-s: Visual art that imagines ways to de-capitalize our collective fear of the AIDS virus.

Dear Magic Johnson, Thanks for Saving My Life: Former college cheerleader expresses gratitude for the basketball legend's contribution to the AIDS epidemic.

And the winner is ... every block labeled HIV-P.O.V., now and forever at Randy Boyd's Blocks!

Voice Mail Madness

Tired of listening to an automated voice telling you: to leave a voice mail, press one, or just wait for the tone...?

How much collective time would the world save without having to wait for this message.

Save yourself and everyone who calls you the pain and misery of voice mail madness.

How? To find out how to terminate the automated voice, click here!

Best Jock Blocks of 2010

And now, the nominees for Best of the Blocks 2010 in the category Best Jock Block (from the blocks labeled Jockin': Homos in Sports):

Dear MLB Players: Lighten Up on Your Gay Teammates: Reality check for the Major League Baseball players who still believe none of their teammates are homo.

Black Teen's Tough Choice: Play Sports or Be a Fag: Story of young black Hoosier playing hoops and coming of age in Indiana in the late 1970s.

College Basketball Players: Lighten Up on Your Gay Teammates: Reality check for the generation of college athletes who came of age in post-Will and Grace America.

What Makes an Athlete Straight or Gay?: Reality check for anyone who still believes men don't lie about their sexual habits.

Every Boy, Sweet Dream: Wistful dream of a day when all boys are created equal.

When I Played Basketball: Black gay author's ruminations on a life in and out of basketball.

And the winner is ... every block labeled Jockin': Homos in Sports, now and forever at Randy Boyd's Blocks.

Gay Guys in the Locker Room?

The locker room is an empty space.

First it was just space in space.

Then a planet stood in that space.

Then people stood on that planet in that space.

Then people dreamed of uses for that space.

Boom. Creation.

The locker room is born.

The locker room is still first and foremost an empty space.

Humanity brings everything else into that space, from the dreams to the wood to the showers to the plumbing to the slogans on the wall, to the love, hate, smiles, laughter, fear, understanding, misunderstanding, heart, mind, spirit ... what’s inside your soul, at the core.

Remember your core? Feel your core?

Can anyone change your core?

Can you change anyone else’s core?

Can you change how you feel about anyone else’s core?

The locker room is just an empty space.

Your choice what you bring to that space.

As the quarterback and leader of this team, I, Walter Yeager, am bringing into the locker room a winning attitude, so I can get another ring, because when my career is over, people aren’t going to ask me about the locker room.

People are gonna wanna know about these! (flashes rings) ... You can be a player who has some of these! (flashes rings) ... Or ... you can be a player who talks about how you didn’t want to be naked in a room of a hundred men, all because one of them chose to be honest about who he loves back at home.

Your choice, always and forever. This much is true.

—from Walt Loves the Bearcat
by Randy Boyd
A Lambda Literary Award Finalist for Best Romance
Available wherever books are sold
Get Walt Loves the Bearcat now at Amazon

When Men Do Grapefruits

Once, I assumed all guys were either gay or straight. Then I grew up and realized the truth about men.

What truth? Find out in the Grapefruit Theory, or What Men Really Do, now and forever at Randy Boyd's Blocks.

Showering with Gay Guys

"You've already shared the locker room with men who have had sex with other men. This much is true.

"Whether you know about it or not, whether they tell you about it or not, whether or not you accept it, whether or not it's you personally, you have already stripped naked, stood naked, scratched naked and showered naked in front of men who have sex with men."

—from Dear NFL Players: Tear Down This Wall

My Psychotic Little Pulp eBook

"A psychotic little pulp novel about Kordell Christie, a square gay businessman who becomes part of a mystery that involves mind control and a place called the Facility where there are drug-enhanced masturbation machines."

—Unzipped Magazine
on The Devil Inside
Now available as an eBook

Happy and Carefree

Recently it occurred to me: rarely do I post pictures on my blog of myself at leisure, no posing, no modeling, no agenda, no soapbox, no hawking my novels, lol, just me, happy and carefree.

This shot was taken shortly after my first-ever group Trikke ride in 2009, aka the Best Halloween Trikke Ride Ever. It was a great time that had me grinning ear to ear.

Introducing me, happy and carefree.

Best Blocks of 2010

And now, the nominees for Best of the Blocks 2010 in the category Best Overall Block:

When I Played Basketball, heartwarming, bittersweet tale of a young black boy's hoop dreams.

Becoming the Man I Am, black author reveals how he became: educated, a writer, a cheerleader, homosexual and HIV-positive.

When I Played Football, the bittersweet, heartwarming tale of a young black boy's football dreams.

President Obama's Faults, the honestly brutal list of Obama's biggest faults.

The Only Reason I'm 'Gay', black author declares he's not Will. Or Grace.

Summer of One-Eighty, 18-year-old black youth comes of age in the summer of 1980.

15 Things I Wish I Knew When I Was Young, Gifted and Black, adult man goes back in time to educated his kid self, if only in his dreams.

When USC's Sigma Chi's Called Me Nigger, a young black student receives a brutally honest introduction to institutionalized racism at his institution of higher learning.

Cigarettes: the Real Gateway Drug, theory using the show Cops to demonstrate how smoking is linked to crime and the criminals who commit them.

And the winner is ... a tie ... between every single block, now and forever at Randy Boyd's Blocks!

World AIDS Daydreaming 2010

It's that time a year again when the whole world stops to acknowledge a disease so impactful, it's got its own day now. In honor of the world's AIDS day, here are some of my favorite postcards from my very own AIDS life.

Twenty-five years after Rock Hudson shocked the world, countless young men and women America are being infected with the virus daily. Find out three things you can do if you're asking yourself the question: What If I'm Young, Gay and Poz?

Would you use the term "disease-free" in front of Ryan White, were alive today? Who's Ryan White and why do I wish he were here? Find out in Dear Ryan White, Wish You Were Here

Magic Johnson is my hero, not for what he's done on the court, but for what he's done to help anyone infected with and affected by HIV/AIDS. Upon meeting the Lakers legend, I had one thing to say: Dear Magic Johnson, Thanks for Saving My Life

See life from my point of view all year long in the blocks labeled HIV-P.O.V., now and forever at Randy Boyd's Blocks.

Still in Good Hands

Thank you, every single dead soul who endured unimaginable hardship to make [Barack Obama's] historic inauguration day possible.

The Africans who were kidnapped from their villages, marched across Africa, ferried across the sea, unloaded off the ships and sold into a life of slavery in America, those Africans are all dead; but they're descendants are now in good hands, and life is only going to get better from here to eternity.

—from Africans In America In Good Hands Now

The Only Reason I'm 'Gay'

This ‘gay’ community I see in the early part of the 21st century is nothing that I can personally identify with or relate to.

Somebody hijacked the word gay. Now it means you’re a Queer Eye Guy, or Will or Grace. If that’s what being gay is, I’m no longer a homo.

Not knocking anyone. We all should be who we are. But when I signed on to this whole gay thing, I did so with the understanding that it was an easy way to convey to the world my number one draft pick for the gender of my sex partners and eventual love of my life, nothing else.

Sex life and love life were the only things I signed up for.

No behavioral tendencies, no special icons and divas, no particular clothes or labels or activities or lifestyle—although I must say, I’ve probably tried them all on for size in the name of finding who I really am.

And this is who I really am: the only reason I’m gay is because there are certain things about a man that I don’t wanna live without. Daily, preferably. The first of those is another man’s soul. After that, everything else is details.

That’s the only reason I check gay on the census form, so to speak.

And as far as labels, I learned a long time ago to let ’em go. So the Queer Eye Guys can keep gay. And I hope all their dreams come true, just like mine. But I’ll just say ... I’m sexual ...

—from Walt Loves the Bearcat
by Randy Boyd
A Lambda Literary Award Finalist for Best Romance
Available wherever books are sold
Get Walt Loves the Bearcat now at Amazon

Thankful for My Trikke

Let it be known: I'm thankful for my Trikke. For my Trikke has given me a new life, the life I always dreamed of living, starring the person I always dreamed of being.

Confident. Fit. In better shape than I ever imagined.

Alive. Athletic. Muscular. Athletic. Yes, I said it twice!

Thank you, Trikke, for coming along just when I needed a miracle like you.

Thank you for being the wings that take me to the furthest reaches of my dreams.

Look, mom, I can fly!

I can Trikke every day for the rest of my life and I'll be a happy man.

Thank you, Trikke, for the ride of my life.

For the best exercise that rarely seems like exercise. For the easiest way to be in the best shape of my life. For being the most fun thing in the whole wide world. For giving me a growing community of Trikkers, all giving birth to a Trikke-filled world.

Trikkers rock! (and roll).

Thank you, Trikke.

Thank you, trikkers.

Retard

There were six basketball games going on at the six goals of the gym. I can still see the hazy thickness of the sweat-drenched air filling the gym, still hear the chaotic rumblings of about eighty ninth-grade boys all dressed in the same blue gym shorts and blue and white reversible tank tops.

I was ecstatic and terrified that I ended up in the same game as Robbie Roberts. We'd never said a word to each other, but my crush on the ninth grade quarterback was at its peak. I was determined to play my heart out, desperately wanting to impress him so we could talk afterward and embark on our wonderful lifelong friendship.

"I died but couldn’t let the rest of the gym class know it."

Early in the game, the ball fell into my hands, my chance to dribble and shoot and dazzle him. The next few seconds happened in a blur: swarming hands surrounded me, bodies bumped against mine, legs tangled with my own. An arm broke through and stripped the ball away from me.

Then he said it: “Jesus, another Bubba.”

Bubba Brown, who was also black, was the joke of my high school. He had the size and strength to be a good athlete, but Bubba was born with some kind of physical defect.

No one at school knew the exact nature of his problems, but what we did understand was that he was partially deaf and couldn’t speak like the rest of us. The ninth grade class assumed Bubba was retarded. Everyone made fun of him.

“Jesus, another Bubba,” Robbie Roberts said in the flurry of action after the ball was taken from me. He didn’t say it to anyone in particular, really just to himself, his voice a mix of shock and disgust, as if he really couldn’t believe that in his world of perfectly graceful athletes, that, of all things, another clumsy dope like Bubba existed.

"I rode home on the school bus feeling apart from the others."

To everyone else, the comment most likely blew carelessly through the stale gym air, becoming lost in the clamor of excitement. To me, a shrill siren had sounded. The end of the world had come.

I died, but couldn’t let the rest of the gym class know it. I went through the motions and played out the rest of the game, trying my best to remain as invisible as possible, clinging tightly to the emotions inside me lest they come bursting out uncontrollably.

I rode home on the school bus feeling apart from the others. They were laughing and making jokes with each other. They didn’t have to dream about having friends. Robbie Roberts hadn’t called any of them Bubba.

I got home and dropped my books on the table next to the door. No one was home. Like a zombie, I walked to my room and collapsed on the bed. I lay on my back, feet propped up against the wall, and cried for the next two hours.

My life was over. Robbie Roberts was never going to be my best friend. I hated the world. I hated Bubba for coming to our school. I hated myself. I was never going to be anything special, never going to be liked by anybody, never going to have a best buddy.

Robbie Roberts had made it official: I was just another Bubba.

• Excerpted from Bridge Across the Ocean by Randy Boyd, a Lambda Literary Award Finalist for Small Press Title.
  

When I Played Basketball

Yep, I got hoop dreams. They happen while I'm sleeping. Usually, I'm playing for Indiana U., my beloved hometown Hoosiers.

In my unconscious hoop dreams, everything I've learned about basketball flows through my veins easily, smoothly, naturally. I'm in a Kobe-Jordan zone. I'm Magic. I'm unstoppable.

I grew up in a basketball family. Fathers, brothers, uncles. People in Indianapolis knew us a ballers, past and present. Is it any wonder I can ball so well in my sleep?

"How might my high school teams have benefited from having a six-foot-three, 200 pound black athlete like me?"

Awake, basketball is more complicated. There's the shit that happens off the court, the shit that fucks with your mind. However I did have my moments on real life courts.

My first memorable milestone: scoring six whole points in a game when I wasn't much older than six. I was so excited after the third basket, the ref threatened to hit me with a tech if I reacted that way again.

Later, I played on a junior-AAU-type all-star team that traveled to Illinois and won a regional tournament. I was around age 12 and the big man. In the semi-finals, I scored a career high 17 points and had a ton of rebounds. Dare I say, I dominated?

I was named to the all-tourney team, my first and only individual honor in ball. Next, we traveled to Lexington, Kentucky, and played at UK's old Memorial Coliseum. We didn't fare so well in the national tourney, but the experience of playing in a college arena as a kid was unparalleled.

"Why are you friends with Boyd? He doesn't play any sports?"

Next step: starting for my junior high team at a mostly white private school, no less. Like the main character in my fourth novel, Walt Loves the Bearcat: "I was the player who started but was his team’s equivalent to the underachieving big man on an NBA team with two stellar athletes who also happened to be black at my 99.99% white private school.”

For ninth grade, I returned to the public school system, but my privatized, confused adolescent self was not prepared. The ninth grade coach wanted me on the team, but in my young little mind, I had to make a choice: play sports or be a fag. I chose the option that was choosing me.

By the time I got to high school, the high school athletes saw me as a nerd, a brainiac, a fag. In retrospect, I was all those things, but so the fuck what? I still should've had the right to ball and be me.

In truth, I did have the right. I just didn't know it or have to guts to exercise it in the mid-1970s.

Makes me wonder: how might my high school teams have benefited from having a six-foot-three, 200 pound black athlete like me, no matter my sexual orientation? A black athlete who's smart and knows the game of ball inside/out?

A friend from high school who played sports recently told me about a comment his jock friends made to him while we were all in high school: Why are you friends with Boyd? He doesn't play any sports?

Perhaps my friend knew something those guys still don't know: Boyd is a good person, and if you take the time to get to know him, not only might you see that good person, you just might benefit from having a good teammate who can help you win.

Later in life, I did exercise my right to hoop while being homo. Played in the company league at Walt Disney in my twenties. Started every game for the league champions one season. Scored a new career high 21 points during another season.

In my thirties, I played in a couple of gay leagues and gay basketball tournaments. What I lack in skill I make up in basketball smarts. And I'm very proud of my left hand's ability to block shots seemingly out of nowhere.

Now in my forties, I like to shoot hoops just for fun. Not many actual games, just shooting around. The goal is exercise and fun. Oh, and to see if I can mimic any of the moves in my unconscious hoop dreams.