The Novels of Randy Boyd

As a child, I imagined books and movies about someone like me. Rarely did I see images of people who thought like me, acted like me and with whom I could identify. And that was just in real life! On television, in novels and in the movies, I simply didn't exist.

Makes a brutha feel like Hollywood and the book world can't imagine someone like me being worthy of a plot.

Fortunately, they don't have to. I'm imagining it for them. Here now, my four novels to date. They're like my kids. I'm happy with the way they turned out.

A young black man living with HIV/AIDS dreams of an alternate life where he is HIV-negative and lovers with pro football's greatest quarterback. Or is that, a young black man who is HIV-negative dreams of an alternate life where he's living with HIV/AIDS and never meets pro football's greatest QB? Your ticket is your imagination. Walt Loves the Bearcat, a Lambda Literary Finalist for Best Romance.

A famous but closeted black pop singer tests positive for HIV and plots to assassinate a homophobic US Senator, while a straight white FBI agent goes undercover, as a gay activist, to stop him. Which side will you be on? Uprising, a two-time Lambda Literary Finalist for Best Mystery and Best Small Press Title.

An HIV-positive, black gay businessman must save his business and a friend's life by uncovering a sinister plot to demonize all homosexuals. The mind is a terrible thing to fuck with. The Devil Inside. A Lambda Literary Award Finalist for Best Science Fiction, Horror, Fantasy, and a Gaylactic Spectrum Awards nominee for Best Science Fiction Novel.

A young black man tests positive for HIV, then escapes to Cancun, Mexico, where he meets two white teenage brothers who idolize him, not knowing he is living with HIV/AIDS. It's a friendship that will change all their lives forever. Bridge Across the Ocean, a Lambda Literary Finalist for Best Small Title.

Welcome to my world.

The Deathbed Perspective

"What HIV does is bring you face-to-face with your own mortality. It gives you that 'deathbed perspective' a little sooner."

That's me, speaking during an interview with HIV Positive! magazine. In the article, I also discuss the anger that comes from living with the virus, and the productive ways I deal with that anger.

Read more of Randy Boyd in HIV Positive! Magazine, now and forever at Randy Boyd's Blocks.

Don't Fuck with Queers

Jack Gato entered his ranch-style home thoroughly exhausted from a ten-hour shift upholding the law. The whole house was dark. He grabbed the mail off the television set and absently reached for the adjacent floor lamp.

Jack Gato never turned on the light. The next thing he knew, chunks of his body were being crushed with massive force, his back, his gut, his skull. Baseball bats. Dark faces. Dark masks.

He was unconscious in fifteen seconds flat, a limp entanglement of flesh showered in blood.

A small white piece of paper floated toward the floor, slow and graceful like a lazy snowflake, landing in front of his body, which was lying in the fetal position.

Don’t fuck with queers, the snowflake read.

—from Uprising: the Suspense Thriller
by Randy Boyd

A Double Lambda Literary Finalist:
Best Men's Mystery
Best Small Press Title

Available wherever books are sold

Get Uprising now at amazon.com

More about Uprising

The True Meaning of Infatuations

One dictionary describes infatuation as "the state of being completely carried away by unreasoned passion or love."

In my fourth novel, Walt Loves the Bearcat, a Latino gardener claims infatuations have a deeper meaning. But then again, he also claims he's wearing a magical red baseball cap, although no one can see it (unless they believe!)

Could a man who seems to just disappear and reappear know so much about love? And baseball caps? Decide for yourself, the true meaning of infatuations, now and forever at Randy Boyd's Blocks.

Gone Dreaming

Shakespeare. Twain. Boyd. Whitman. Baldwin. Boyd. Irving. Boyd. Randy Boyd ... the great author from the 21st century, a time long, long ago...

The author falls asleep at his desk. He dreams of a faraway future, a future where his works are studied, like the great literary voices of the past. But will his own works pass the test of time?

Dream Sequences, coming soon to Randy Boyd's Blocks.

I Love My Trikke

It's the joyride of the 21st century and the coolest invention since the humans invented the wheel. And I'm not alone in my childlike giddiness for my favorite new toy.

See what the fun is all about in the blocks labeled Trikke Randy, now and forever at Randy Boyd's Blocks.

Disease-Free or Just Plain Dumb?

Some men call themselves "disease-free" and assume that gives them license to have unsafe sex with others who are "disease-free."

WTF?

A "disease-free" mentality doesn't keep anyone safe. What does is knowing How to Stay HIV-Negative in an HIV-Positive World.

Reading Randy

My novels are like my kids. I'm proud of the way they turned out. To date, my four novels have earned five Lambda Literary Award nominations. You can see their pictures, er, book covers on the sidebar of this blog.

All my novels are available wherever books are sold. If a store doesn't have them in stock, they can look them up and order them.

Randy Boyd's books are also available at amazon.com. Clicking on the book covers on the sidebar takes you to each book's page at amazon.

Unlovable Nigger Faggot Gets the Memo

I used to live under the false assumption that the people of my generation--my peers, my classmates, my co-workers, the guys at the gym, the clubs, the bars--I used to live under the false impression that they were open to falling in love with someone like me.

Then I got an Update from the Unlovable Nigger Faggot.

Picture Pretty Pictures

Why would I want a digital camera? I wondered at the dawn of the digital camera age. What would I take pictures of?

Then I wrote my fourth novel, Walt Loves the Bearcat, and realized: even though "we live a world with countless images from countless sources ... rare or nonexistent is the occasion where I encounter an image that reflects who I am and what I dream of."

Since then, I've been filling up my world with pretty pictures of yours truly. If the world can't imagine me being worthy of beautiful dreams, I'm going to imagine it for them. :)

Of Men with Bats and Balls

A reminder to all those at the ol' ballpark this summer: some of the pro baseball players on the field have scored with other men.

Men get lonely. Men get horny. Men get curious.

Men get drunk. Men get desperate. Men experiment. Men lie about it.

Men get off. Sometimes with other men. Doesn't make them fags. Just makes them men. The sooner we realize this, the sooner we can lay off the men who call themselves homos, and let all men be men.

See sports from a different point of view in the blocks labeled, Jockin': Homos in Sports, now and forever at Randy Boyd's Blocks.

Dog Tales

He's my buddy, my constant companion, my dog. He's also taught me some very important lessons in life, one of them being: When In Doubt, Pet the Dog.

When In Doubt, Pet the Dog, a periodic memoir or column or blog journal thingy, now and forever at Randy Boyd's Blocks.

Slick and Oily Decisions

The Image Keepers--the people who choose which images are suitable for our collective dreams, as seen in the movies and on TV--they've decided marine wildlife dying in oil is good television, thanks to a massive spill in the Gulf of Mexico.

What about poor people dying every day? When do they become good enough for the world's attention?

See life from a different point of view in the blocks labeled Sapien Homo, now and forever on Randy Boyd's Blocks.

The Blown Job

I had just sat down in front of the tube, plate of juicy burgers in one hand, remote in the other ... when there was a knock on the door.

The solicitor was too gorgeous to simply dismiss. I think it was the eyes, hopeful and radiant. He was a young white man in his early twenties with a body by sports. He lit up when he saw me. I lit up when I saw him light up at the sight of me.

Still, lunch and Erica Kane were waiting. She was up to something that held my interest. But so did the young man at the door. The soaps could wait. The burgers could cool.

"I like sucking off black guys," mouths the white kid, his voice deeper than deep.

I stepped outside and listened to the young man's pitch about magazine subscriptions I knew I'd never buy. Did I listen? Or did I simply gaze into his eyes, soaking up the light emanating from his youthful core?

No Blacks, No Asians, No Offense?

The Segregation Era lives on in my racist gay world. This is what it looks like in pictures.

WHITES AND LATINS ONLY, a photo essay featuring gay men's online words in images reminiscent of the segregated Old South.

Nigger Still Smiling

“Black boy feels like shit his whole life, so he makes up a dream world where people like and accept him. But he’s still not convinced they like him for him, so he imagines living his whole life in somebody else’s headspace.

All anyone really sees of the poor bastard is the manufactured mascot head he wears at all times, cool Bear/Joe Bruin, the black boy nobody could hate too much, especially with that goofy grin plastered on his face. I mean, what white man would ever hang a nigger with a smile like Joe Bruin?”

—from Walt Loves the Bearcat

Once upon a time, there was a little black boy, who was me, who doubted his worth.

Compared to all the other boys and girls around him, the boy felt worth less, like a black fag. Then the boy fell ill and the illness foretold of scary things to come from the scariest of new worlds: the land of a i d s, that mysterious new beast in the whispers of the dark of the early 1980s ...

The boy, who was a college boy and a college cheerleader, felt like a black fag bound for AIDS, and began to dream of a whole other life, a life where he was HIV-negative, carefree and partners with the love of his life, the quarterback to his cheerleader, of course. Duh! Black male cheerleaders have dreams, too. lol

So the boy, who would be HIV-positive, dreamed of a whole other life where he and his QB buddy tested HIV-negative, and went on to become the “Mr. and Mr. Jackie Robinson of Professional Sports History.” A great love story worthy of an heroic epic. Walt, the quarterback, loves his cheerleader, the Bearcat. A dream come true for a black boy who likes to dream, and write stories about those dreams.

But a curious thing happened on the way to My Whole Other HIV-Negative Life. That version of me took on a life of its own, so to speak. That guy--that HIV-negative, quarterback-loving, famous screenwriter black guy--that fictional character, well, he became his own man: Bear Coleman.

And Bear Coleman kept shouting to my author brain: Hey, writer man, hey, brain! Hey, you! I also have a dream!

And the writer man took note.

Bear's dream: the boy, who would be HIV-negative, dreams of a whole other life where he tests HIV-positive and he and his QB buddy never met! Can he survive as a single man living with AIDS in the modern world?

But a curious thing happened on the way to My Whole Other HIV-Positive Life. Bear Coleman, my dream boy, couldn't escape feeling worth less compared to all the other boys and girls, either! He, too, felt like a black cheer fag who doesn't deserve happy endings, even though he's got his quarterback!

My job as the writer man: merge my dreams and these two characters together into one seamless story about love, football and some very potent daydreams. And create some happy endings, for goodness sake!

Once upon a time, there was a little black boy, who was me, whose world was rocked by a little virus that would change his life forever. To survive, he had to dream of better dreams. One of them is my fourth novel, Walt Loves the Bearcat.


Walt Loves the Bearcat
by Randy Boyd

A Lambda Literary Finalist
Best Romance

Available wherever books are sold

Get Walt Loves the Bearcat at amazon.com

More about Walt Loves the Bearcat


"A madcap whirl, Walt Loves the Bearcat is first and forever a love story, one written with a roller-coaster brio and a magical intensity that demand and deserve the reader’s perseverance."
SF Bay Times (Read full review).

"Warm-spirited ... resonates with soulful queries into the nature of love and life." Bay Area Reporter (Read full review).

Tax and Spend This!

America needs money, and out of civic duty, I offer this quick fix. I don't even want credit, except for maybe every American buying one of my four novels, nominated for five Lambda Literary Awards and available wherever books are sold. But I digress. Here's the deal, America, take it, and we can all party like it's 1945-1999:

1) Legalize prostitution. The jobs. The businesses created. The associated industries created. The federal income tax revenue. The state tax revenue. The lowering of the street-crime crime rate. The lowering of the jail population. The ability of law enforcement to focus on other, more serious crimes. The list goes on and on.

2) Legalize marijuana. The jobs. The businesses created. The associated industries created. The federal income tax revenue. The state tax revenue. The property tax revenue. The lowering of the street-crime crime rate. The lowering of the jail population. The ability of law enforcement to focus on other, more serious crimes. The list goes on and on.

3) Tax churches. More than ever, America is on its way to living up to the idea that all men are created equal. Now it's time to live up to another idea that Americans are supposed to have fought and died for: separation of church and state. If Congress shall make no law regarding religion, then how about Congress making no laws about religions being exempt from paying taxes?

If we change our thinking about three things, prostitution, marijuana and churches paying taxes, America could shock the shit out of itself, rise from the ashes of greed and excess, and create a stronger, more financially stable land of the free and home of the employed.

Let's do it for our country, America, and make America, America the great once again.

• Another version of this post previously appeared on Randy Boyd's Blocks.

Author, Author, Bio, Bio

Answer: His four novels have been nominated for five Lambda Literary Awards, including his latest release, Walt Loves the Bearcat, a story of love, football and some very potent daydreams.

Question: Who is Randy Boyd?

Correct, select again. Or click here to read Randy Boyd's entire bio.

The Shame Game

You can call someone a fag a lot of different ways.

You can call them a fag aloud. Or you can deny them access to any particular slice of the American Dream.

When pro athletes speak out against the idea of having openly gay teammates, what they're really doing is killing the spirits of many of the young boys who look up to them.

Find out how in Homophobia in the NBA: Who’s To Blame?, now and forever at Randy Boyd's Blocks.

Ryan White, We Need You

Dear Ryan White,

Wish you were here to give me some perspective on what your generation has made of the post-AIDS Panic world.

They came up with a term: Disease-free. They use it on this thing called the Internet.

Wish you were here to tell this modern world how it makes you feel, hearing people use the term, "disease-free."

Read the rest of Dear Ryan White, Wish You Were Here, now and forever on Randy Boyd's Blocks.

Crude Realities

Dear Mr. President.

Out of (the deep) blue, comes this very oily mess caused by a rig explosion off the coast of Louisiana.

If it isn't one Gulf, it's another, eh, Mr, President, sir?

This is not your oil spill, no more than the Exxon Valdez is the spill of that president. The true frustration of the public comes from the fact that in real life, things don't happen as fast as they do in the movies.

The public forgets: just because you can have a real time video chat with grandma in another state doesn't mean huge corporations or government departments can solve huge problems in the time it takes for President Bruce Willis to put on a specially made, presidential diving suit, dive down himself and plug that hole!

And while BP may have culpability in the spill, does anyone honestly believe they're not doing every single thing possible every minute of every hour to stop the madness? BP has the most to lose, oil, reputation.

They may also be running spin control. Who wouldn't? The public fails to realize: they're doing everything they can to plug the well.

Therefore, Mr. President, sir, I believe the solution is for you to put on a Bruce Willis mask, dive down there yourself and plug that hole!

Or keep doing you, and hang in there, Mr. President. This American is with you.

Dreamy and Cool

Coming soon: a whole new block on the block.

How I Became Educated

Growing up the youngest of four kids, not once did I ever see my older siblings study or concern themselves with school. In fact, it was the reverse. One of my earliest memories is of my brother and sister cheating their way through a summer reading program at the children's library (while I took pride in reading and completing the assignments).

So how did I become a UCLA grad in 1985?

Despite my siblings' efforts, my parents did emphasized the importance of education. And of not being just another statistic, e.g., another black man wasting his life away. My father was a reader and a thinker who encouraged me to be a thinker. My mother went to college in her 40s and earned her BA and Masters.

"My rebellious sibs caused beaucoup de hell, giving me a steady course in how not to act."

Once, my parents tried to enroll us kids in a private school. My older siblings laughed their way through the admissions exam while making fun of me, the nerdy little brother taking the test seriously. Since I was the only child who passed, my parents decided none of us would attend Heritage Christian.

Their next move: moving us from the decaying inner-city of 1960s Indianapolis to the suburbs, specifically Washington Township, one of the finest school systems in the country.

You might say, I benefited most in the timing department. I was only age seven, still impressionable, still ready to be molded and eager to assimilate. Whereas my older sibs were already entrenched in their ghetto state of mind, I adapted to my new world much more easily.

"For two years of junior high, my father sent me to an all-white private school."

I also had some serious motivation: my rebellious sibs caused beaucoup de hell with my parents, giving me a steady course in how not to act if you want to avoid trouble. They became my reverse role models. I embraced the role of the good guy and made a conscious choice not to be like my disobeying, non-studying, borderline juvenile delinquent siblings, who earned the ire of parents and teachers alike. No thank you very much.

For two years of junior high, my father sent me to an all-white private school. At Park-Tudor, I was a fish out of water, acting out due to my parents bitter divorce. However, upon returning to the public school system, I found myself near the top of my class.

When my counselor broke the news that I was ranked 35th out of over 1,000, mostly white students at North Central High School, I privately relished the fact that my fate was sealed. There was no turning back. I was going to be a proper-talking, good-grade getting, over-achieving Negro, who was a college graduate and thinker, for life.

How I Became Homosexual

I never said I didn't want pussy. In fact, I've never not wanted pussy. I've dreamed of eating pussy since forever. The maze of life just hasn't taken me there yet.

I was raised in a male-dominated sports world where females were not so accessible, emotionally or physically, and males were violent and abusive but accessible through sports, my second language.

Upon my birth, my older sister was told she had a new baby sister. “That explains it,” said my mother years later. At age seven, sis taught me cheerleading. From that day forward, I became an athlete and a cheerleader. As far as the neighbor kids were concerned, I also became a fag. I never said I didn't want pussy!

"I checked HOMO on the imaginary sexual census form out of social convenience."

From junior high to my college graduation, I was socially retarded and basically alone. By high school, I quit playing sports and focused on academics, journalism and theater. Then in college, I finally got to live out my childhood cheerleader dreams. As far as the world was concerned, all of it made me a fag. I never said I didn't want pussy!

In my youth, there were little or no opportunities to articulate or explore my sexual nature with my peers. But a hard dick finds its own compass, and since I was already more bonded with males, emotionally and physically, and indeed craved a best buddy with whom I could bond, emotionally and physically, and since the world had already anointed me fag ...

My penile compass found its way into the world of men who have sex with men, beginning with adult bookstores. Most of the men were far from stereotypical fags. Many of them were married. Very few of them saw themselves as gay.

"Never had a partner. Never had a lover. Never had a boyfriend."

One month after college, the AIDS hysteria hit. I made a pledge to avoid the new “deadly disease,” but inwardly I knew: I was already infected. I needed a miracle. Or two.

The first would be surviving AIDS. The second: finding my best buddy, even though school was over, and that buddy and I would have to journey through the AIDS crisis together.

So circa my mid-twenties, I signed onto this “whole gay thing” and checked HOMO on the imaginary sexual census form out of social convenience. I immersed myself in the gay world, went to gay bars, danced in gay clubs, started calling myself gay, searched for a buddy, aka, gay partner, fought for gay rights, all while trying to survive AIDS and find a buddy-for-life.

I never said I didn't want pussy!

Twenty-five years later, I'm living out the first miracle, having now survived a quarter of a century, more than half my life, with HIV/AIDS. The second miracle, the buddy dream: still elusive. Never had a partner. Never had a lover. Never had a boyfriend.

Now that I'm all grown up, I realize: I'm no longer a homo, just a guy who enjoys the company of men, who wants to bond with a special buddy, emotionally and physically, and who is open to but has yet to experience sex with women.

I never said I didn't want pussy!