DON’T IT MAKE MY BROWN EYE BLUE? Dear Henry Column-reFRESH Magazine-50th Issue-May/June 2008
Category: Writing and Poetry
The 50th issue! What follows is my second letter to Henry in the London based gay magazine reFRESH. Appearing in each pubication, tackling relationship issues and written in a "Dear John" format, Henry - like a bad rash - just won't go away.
DON'T IT MAKE MY BROWN EYE, BLUE
Dear Henry,
I'm intrigued, if not confused, that we are still together. But I understand that relationships on any level take an element of give and take. On that note, I feel like I've been taking a lot more than giving. In fact, every time we have sex now, you're the pitcher and I'm the catcher. Not that I'm counting, but I would like to be on top of my game, once in a while.
And I was so impressed that you listened to what I had to say in my last letter,
"…in life, we constantly have to switch gears. Just remember to use the clutch."
But I meant it figuratively, not literally. So when the rusted out 1998 Allegro convertible with the tear in the roof that is patched with electrician's tape appeared in front of my house with a big bow on it and a note saying, "To Arthur, Enjoy my stick shift, Henry", I was quite overwhelmed to say the least. Especially since I don't drive. I thought Allegro was an opera. Or maybe an antihistamine? I hope you didn't actually pay money for that car. You have your self-esteem to think of. And could you please remove it? The car, that is. It's illegally parked, piled high with violation tickets and there's a large but pretty yellow device attached to the back wheel.
However Henry, I must confess I have enjoyed your "joy stick". There's something very comfortable about small penises. But I know you're frustrated with my inability to understand how to work with your hood – and I'm not referring to the Allegro. You blame it on the fact that I'm cut. I wish I wasn't. Or at the very least, I should have had a say in the decision process. I want it back.
So I girded my loins, took a deep breath and allowed you to attach that non-surgical foreskin restoration device to my talliwacker. The metal clamp was a bit tight and little cold but that was fine. What you didn't do was read the instructions carefully. It says it takes about 1 year to restore a man's foreskin, not 1 hour. Hence, it only makes sense that the extraordinary amount of weight that you attached to my shaft would have forced any man's skin that was left, to be violently torn off.
I'm sure you meant well so I'm not holding that against you. Besides, they say the stitches will dissolve on their own if infection doesn't set in. But it would be considerate if you helped out with the price - insurance isn't covering it. Oh, and when the weight hit my foot, the doctor said they just let broken toes heal on their own.
Lightheaded from the painkillers, I limped to a friend's house who reminded me that when it comes to relationships, compromise is imperative. So again, I let you have your way. I know you like a smooth hairless chest but why couldn't I have just shaved it off? Yes, when it grows back it becomes very stubbly, but exfoliation, especially for your face Henry, would be a good thing.
But I acquiesced and allowed you to use the home wax method. Before you came over that night I was really excited. Knowing my man was going to groom my body the way he wanted it and then ravage me seemed so erotic. I understand that hot wax removal dates back to the ancient Egyptians and even Alexander The Great had his body parts done to keep looking youthful and sexy. Now that's hot! And so was the paraffin wax you boiled up. But burns heal and you did yank the cloth strips at the proper 40-degree angle and yes it did remove my hair but unfortunately part of my areola came off with it, too. Not to worry. They grafted skin from the inside of my cheek onto my nipple and although the left side is obviously larger now then the right, it is smooth. You got your wish. They said hair will never grow there again.
I thought it only fair at this stage of the game to bring up a point of contention. Several rather sharp points. I'm not criticizing your dental hygiene or lack of but those canines of yours are lethal. I've heard that lots of orally challenged men wear mouth guards when going down on their partners. It's rather like being gummed to death. But is it my fault that your lower guard popped loose and lodged in your throat? Lucky for you I know the Heimlich maneuver.
I give you "A" for effort. And speaking of "A's" I appreciate the article you shared with me from that New York magazine that exclaimed - "Anal Bleaching! It's All The Rage!" The cream you sent over was very effective but I don't think the added sun block was necessary. I read the instructions and applied it just as they told me to and then it said I should see gradual results quickly. That should have been the tip off for me. Gradual results quickly? While imitating Michael Jackson singing "A, B, C, easy as 1, 2, 3,..." the bleaching cream morphed into battery acid and I couldn't wipe it off fast enough. With tears of pain streaming down my face I was able to make out on the back of the jar the word "CAUTION" in tiny little print. "This product contains 20% hydroquinone, a suspected carcinogen banned by several countries including the UK."
"Anal Bleaching! It's All The Rage!" Yeah, it's a real scream. Henry, I've given and taken as much as I can handle. It's over. I wish you well but I must insist that we not see each other again.
I've worked hard for my brown eye and I intend on keeping it. And if I get bum cancer, it's your ass that's on the line!
"Dear Henry" reFRESH Magazine "Let’s Call It Splits!" March/April 08
Category: Writing and Poetry
What follows is my first letter to Henry in the London based gay magazine reFRESH. Appearing each issue, tackling relationship issues and written in a "Dear John" format, Henry - like a bad rash - just won't go away.
LET'S CALL IT SPLITS
Dear Henry,
It pains me to have to write this letter but you've given me no choice. It hurts so much because I bent over backwards…and forwards for that matter…and yet you never gave me an inch. I'm sorry, that's not true. You almost gave me 5.5 inches but I didn't penalize you for that.
You have to admit, our initial meeting was like a fairy tale. If you recall, we romantically met in a chat room online. I told you that I was a former gymnast, kind of average looking, a successful writer and somewhere between 31 and death. And you told me how tall, dark and handsome you were and that you were 38 and then we exchanged pictures.
But I didn't hold it against you when we met in person at that charming café and you ordered a coke and vodka and discovered you were short, light and a bit quirky looking. And the fact that you were older than you said didn't faze me at all. With Internet age, you always add on an extra five years. But I was a bit surprised when I realized the photo you sent me was not your picture. Heck, I've only seen one Colin Farrell movie so I thought it could have been you. Call me madcap, but I think that was bit deceitful.
One must admit though we both felt a lot of chemistry right away and at the end of that first date I'm glad we didn't jump right into bed. It felt mature that we took our time getting to know one another and held off on having sex. To give in to lust and temptation would have felt cheap and easy. I'm glad we waited till the second date.
Some may have thought that your food eccentricities might be a turn off but not me. I have never met anyone before who would only eat white food. But as long as you're getting all your nutrients, why not? White rice, white cheese, white milk, white cauliflower, white beans, white bread, boiled chicken. (But the chicken did look a bit more gray than white.) That's a hard food group to work with. I'm proud of the surprise dinner I came up with but am sorry that some parsley landed on your plate and ruined the meal for you.
And did I judge you when we visited my friend Jon's house in the country for the weekend and you brought along your formal wear? If you find standing in the middle of his pool, soaking wet in an Armani suit hot and sexy, I say, "Go for it." Although, you might want to be a bit more practical and invest in less expensive suits. One dunk and it's ruined. We all know that you telemarketers don't make a lot of money.
And didn't you say when we first met you were versatile? If you are, you're doing it with someone other than me. You're not a top. You're not a bottom. You're a side. I was willing to meet you half way but instead you made me do all the work. I can see your face right now. You're making that combination condescending smirk slash frown. I'm not being critical, just honest.
But I worked through all of that and I know that relationships take time and patience and sometimes compromise. So when you asked me if I was into leather, something that's never been on my sexual "to do" list, I thought to myself, "Be open. Why not give it a try? Especially if it will make him happy." I actually started having visions of leather harnesses, biker jackets and even hooded masks. Just the thought of the smell of leather was beginning to turn me on.
Hence, the night we planned our fetish adventure I was completely psyched and ready to explore new worlds and facets of my sexual being. And to experience it for the first time with you meant so much to me. But I was at a total loss when you showed up at my place empty handed and then went rummaging through my closet. And what did you pull out? A pair of dusty leather tassel loafers.
The devilish look on your face when you discovered them, the glimmer in your eye, the heavy breathing was all quite confusing not to mention disturbing. I remember, you brought the shoes over to me and asked, "Are you passionate about slip-ons?" And I thought to myself, "A slip-on dildo, maybe but an old shoe?" You were practically drooling over that pigskin and honestly it was uncomfortable for me to watch you sodomize them. I had to leave the bedroom so you and the pair could finish your business. I've heard of threesomes but this was ridiculous. And I'll never forget what you screamed at me from the bedroom. "You're jealous, aren't you?"
I may be guilty of being jealous of other people's money, careers or even looks but I'm not jealous of my own pair of shoes. By the way, you ruined the leather. I think it's only fair that you financially compensate me for it.
Henry, I think it's best if we part ways. When in relationships, whether they be with family, friends or loved ones, we all must be adaptable. How can you ask me to be free as the wind and go with the flow when you yourself are so stiff and rigid? Actually, it would have been nice if you did get stiff and rigid. But I'm not one to hold grudges.
And in life, we constantly have to switch gears. Just remember to use the clutch. And stay flexible. Hell, I can still do my splits. Can you?
Catching up! Photo shoots, reality series, movies, television and magazines - oh my!
Category: Writing and Poetry
Hey everybody - sorry I've been missing in action. Busy times.
I turned 53 since I last blogged. And I don't feel a day over 52!
Photo shoots...podcasts...(when Ramble Redhead's show appears online I'll link it for you. I'm sure my lawyer will be calling after he hears this one.)
I'm right in the middle of shooting the pilot of Living The Dream - here in NYC. It's a reality series about my dear, young friend Paul Nicholas - a singer/songwriter who is battling MS.
Also in preproduction for Birthday Pie - my screenplay that will star Phylicia Rashad and be directed by her sister Debbie Allen.
Oh and I just wrote my column "Dear Henry" - a humorous and irreverent take on love, sex and dating that appears in each issue of the very beautiful, London based magazine - reFRESH. Next week I can blog the past issue. It's VERY irreverent. Trust me.
And On Picking Fruit - the TV series is still in development.
I must remember to breathe.
And kids...don't forget to dream big. If all this can happen to me, it can happen for you.
"Arch, witty and also romantic..." Review - Fruit Cocktail - Gaydarnation
Category: Writing and Poetry
Arthur Wooten has just published Fruit Cocktail, the follow-up to his 2005 novel On Picking Fruit. Arch, witty and also romantic, both books follow the travails of Curtis Jenkins as he navigates the path to true love.
Arthur Wooten was once an actor, then a Shiatsu practitioner and now he’s a bestselling author. You may have seen earlier incarnations of his work anthologised, or you may have seen one of his plays. One thing’s for sure, the man is highly adaptable and multi-talented. Having self-published his first novel, Wooten caught the eye of the people at Alyson who offered him a book deal, of which Fruit Cocktail is the final component.
Wooten describes these books as "autobiofictional," that is, names and identifying details have been blurred to protect those involved. But one of the qualities of this style of writing is that although it’s full of drama and pathos, the author is presenting scenarios to which many of us can relate, they have an undeniably broad appeal that, Wooten boasts, even straight people get.
So Fruit Cocktail follows yet more dating misadventures of our ill-fated hero Curtis Jenkins. Curtis has had so many dodgy dates with men that he’s written a book about them entitled, catchily, 101 Ways to Collide into Your Gay Soul Mate. Whilst on a book tour to promote this fine piece of high-minded literature, Curtis finds that men across the US are, well, perhaps not what he hoped they would be.
What works so well in this book, and the series, is Wooten’s choice of protagonist. Curtis is no youngster, not only is he middle-aged, he’s sexy with it. Given gay culture’s unfortunate obsession with youth, often to the detriment of older people, it is great to encounter somebody who busts open ageist stereotypes. That’s not all, Curtis is HIV+, a fact that does not define him but is just part of life.
Wooten has a great grasp of the dynamic between friends, and Curtis’ best friend Quinn is another one of the series’ highlights. They are a classic pairing, "like Lucy and Ethel," says Wooten in a recent interview, referring to the friends in the classic American sitcom I Love Lucy.
If you’re the kind of person who reaches for the remote control whenever a re-run of Sex and The City comes on, Wooten’s fiction is unlikely to be the kind of thing that you might want to read. At its worst, Fruit Cocktail slips into a hackneyed "Men! You can’t live with them and you can’t live without them!" line, and it’s hard to imagine how the author might sustain this entertainingly through the next book, or more if the series continues.
But despite its flaws, the book is unpredictable and madcap, Wooten’s prose cranks up the energy and then, whilst you’re laughing, brings you back down to earth with a poignant jab. As well as the laughs, Fruit Cocktail contains some unexpectedly moving passages, it’s campy but the book has heart.
By the way, the author is still single and looking for love.
Gaydarnation - UK - Interview with Arthur Wooten
Category: Writing and Poetry
Charlotte Cooper of Gaydarnation in the UK sat down with me for a little chat. (Note: The interview took place before the writer’s strike in Hollywood ended.)
Fruit Cocktail is the second of Arthur Wooten’s Curtis Jenkins series and the follow up to his 2005 novel On Picking Fruit. Witty and romantic, the books follow a loveable protagonist who also happens to be older than your usual literary heroes and HIV+ to boot. Based partly on real life and partly on the author’s considerable imagination, these are books that will make you laugh as hard as you cry.
Wooten stepped up to tell us more.
What do you mean by autobiofiction? So many people have asked me if ’I am Curtis’ the lead character in my novels and my honest response is my work, all my work, is autobiofictional. There’s a little bit of Curtis in me - there would have to be. The type of writing that really touches a reader or makes them laugh is honest writing and that honesty has to come from within. That being said, I’m also just as much Curtis’ mother Mrs. J., Quinn, his best friend - all of the characters, including Emily-Mae the dog!
Some of the dates Curtis goes on are bits and pieces of experiences I’ve had - blended with friend’s stories. But so much of both On Picking Fruit and Fruit Cocktail is just pure fiction.
Why is Curtis an older protagonist? It’s very rare to read a novel with a gay protagonist, one who is 40 or older. It’s a voice I wanted people to hear. Many of the books centre around teenage angst or confused people struggling with their sexuality. There are thousands of us gays out there that are perfectly happy being out and out for years and we have stories to tell. Also, writing for an older character gave me a much richer canvas to draw upon.
Can you tell us a secret about the next book in the series? The big secret is that there won’t be one - at least not with my current publisher. I wish them well but I’m on to bigger and better things. The writers strike in Hollywood should be over soon and prior to the shutdown a premium cable network approached me about On Picking Fruit and Fruit Cocktail being a TV series. Since then directors, producers and other networks have been scratching at my door. So the next incarnation will be On Picking Fruit the TV series.
I’m actually taking a meeting this month brainstorming about ideas for new programming and I just completed a screenplay based upon an award winning play I wrote - Birthday Pie. It’s a busy time.
Who are the writers you admire the most? Although I’m known for my comedy - playwrights who have inspired me are Eugene O’Neill and Tennessee Williams. More contemporary, Beth Henley. They all taught me that comedy is not only based upon truth, but to make it transcend time and location it must be written and acted as seriously a possible. Most people in life, hence most characters in plays, novels, TV or screenplays are at their funniest when the are put into an hysterical situation but take it totally seriously. You’ll see that concept played out beautiful in any I Love Lucy rerun.
What advice do you have for others thinking about self-publishing? Go for it! In 2005 I internet/self-published On Picking Fruit. Within a few months Alyson Books discovered it on their own and offered me the multiple book deal. And now Hollywood. If you have a dream, own it. If my dream can come true, so can yours.
"There are thousands of us gays out there that are perfectly happy being out and out for years and we have stories to tell."
You seem to have lived many lives, not only are you an author but you’re also a trained Shiatsu practitioner, and you’ve been an actor. What’s next for you? With all the interest in On Picking Fruit and Fruit Cocktail being a TV series, I’m staying on board as producer/writer. This is my baby. But doing press for Fruit Cocktail, I’ve had a taste of radio - even chiming in on BBC Radio with my good friend Clayton Littlewood, the Soho Blogger and David Benson the actor. I’m threatening friends now that I want to do more radio.
I’ve also just joined reFRESH Magazine based in London. Each issue I’ll be writing a humorous and irreverent advice column about love, sex and dating written in a ’Dear John’ format. They’re terribly funny and the first one debuted in the February issue.
What else would you like to say? So many talented people who want to be where I’m at in my career ask me what should / can I do to make it happen. I believe in The Four Ps. First you need a good Product - whether it’s a novel, play, screenplay, or whatever - maybe it’s the next best vacuum cleaner. And then you must have Passion. You’re going to have to work hard and think outside of the box and be Persistent. But even more importantly, be Professional. And learn to be lucky. We all know that in order to be struck by lightening you must stand out in the rain. But you must be willing to stand out in the rain longer than anyone else. My good fortune didn’t happen over night. I’ve been poured on and I wouldn’t have it any other way.
Find out more at www.onpickingfruit.com and www.myspace.com/arthurwooten and look out for our review of Fruit Cocktail next week!
Fruit Cocktail Book Trailer and thanks to all that attended the SF Book Signing
Category: Writing and Poetry
I want to thank everyone who showed up in San Francisco for Fruit Cocktail's book signing. Standing room only - it was a complete joy to share it all with you. The store was full of friends and strangers but it felt more like a party than a reading. I appreciated the plethora of questions from everyone during the Q & A. Dream big but be careful of what you ask for. If you truly feel it in your heart, in every fiber of your body - it will come true. If it can happen to me, it can happen for you.
And so much more exciting news that I will share with all of you in the very near future. Meanwhile - here's a cute book trailer for Fruit Cocktail. Trailers for books...who would have thunk?
"If Armistead Maupin and David Sedaris had a love child, it would be Arthur Wooten."
Category: Movies, TV, Celebrities
AUTHOR IS RIPE FOR PICKING – Arthur Wooten’s tales of dating life amuse both gay and straight audiences.
The Examiner – San Francisco 02/09/2008
If Armistead Maupin and David Sedaris had a love child, it would be Arthur Wooten.
It might take a certain amount of creativity to really absorb that concept, especially since Wooten, like Maupin and Sedaris, is middle-aged, but when you’re dealing with apt wordsmiths capable of provoking thought, anything is possible.
And that is precisely what Wooten continues to do.
Several years ago, he sat down to pen his first novel, "On Picking Fruit," which chronicled the dating exploits of Curtis Jenkins, a 40-something gay New Yorker whose appetite for real love continually leaves him forever hungry. When publishing titans didn’t bite, Wooten opted to publish his book online. He went on to produce other material, all the while fiercely self-promoting his work until one day, he received a surprise call from Alyson Books – the publishing house offered him a two-book deal.
Flash forward to the present day and you’ll find Wooten’s work nominated for a 2007 Lambda Literary Award and under consideration at a major cable network to be developed into a series.
"I have learned you can learn to be lucky in life," Wooten admits.
Perseverance may be one of the secrets to Wooten’s success, but the former gymnast and actor says he always envisioned something good coming of his creative offspring.
"It was a flame in my heart and I fanned it," he says of his first book. "So many times, people like to put out our fires. We sometimes lose that flame and I am proof that you can find it again."
He believes both straight and gay audiences have embraced both books because, quite simply, they can relate to it.
"I think we all are looking for connection, whether it is within ourselves or our family or our jobs or intimate relationships," he says. "We are looking for validation, for something that reminds us that there is more to life than just getting through the day."
The entire experience ushered in a bevy of lessons, too, many pertaining to the ever-changing face of today’s publishing industry. Even with the book deal, he still remains his own best publicist.
"For me, this whole thing is a forum, it’s above and beyond the writing of the book," he says. "Listen, life is too short. Go out there and do it. If I can, anybody can."
My First True Love - Ken, the raft - Excerpt from On Picking Fruit
At age 13 I knew how a woman got pregnant. I just didn't know how the sperm exited the male. It never occurred to me to touch myself. My friends didn't tell me. Probably because I had none. So I came up with the theory that the man must pee into the woman.
My father the absent professor was not only brilliant but he also made a lot of money. I think he invented the ballpoint pen. The house he purchased in Bremerton was an extraordinary piece of property. A 1920s Tudor-style stucco house with more bedrooms and bathrooms than there were people in our house. Out back there was a clay tennis court, but none of us played. My mother used the net for drying laundry. Behind the tennis court was a cement monstrosity of a pool that had colored underwater lights. It was Olympic size with both one and three meter diving boards, but none of us swam. Out past the pool was the little house.
I took to sunbathing in the nude on the roof while lying on a raft. You know, the kind that had holes on the side so you could sip a beverage and rest it while floating in the water.
Well, one summer day I was all lathered up with baby oil and lying on the float on the roof in the nude when I heard my mother screaming for me. I jumped up, slid on the raft, lost my balance and fell back onto it with my talliwacker sliding right into the tight warm hole meant for a tall cool drink. I found out instantly how the sperm comes out of the man.
I named the raft Ken and fell madly in love with it. The two of us were inseparable. Going at it three, four, even five times a day. I was making up for lost time. Boy, I had such a great tan that summer.
One day when I was rushing home to rendezvous with Ken, I discovered my mother burning something in the backyard.
"Stay away," she ordered. "Don't breathe the air."
Fascinated, I rushed to her side. "What are you doing?"
"That raft stunk to high heaven." She snarled, her lip curling. "Whatever was all over that thing, I'll never know. Must have been bacteria. I had to torch it."
I can't tell you how brokenhearted I was the day I found out that my mother had murdered Ken. She burned him at the stake, just like Joan of Arc.
After a proper mourning period, I did set out to meet new friends. I had a tight but risky relationship with the cushions on the sofa. They were covered in plastic, so clean up was a breeze. But family members had an annoying habit of walking in on us. One day my older sister Kelly caught us in a passionate interlude.
"Mother, Curtis is humping the couch again!" she exclaimed, wrinkling up her nose. "You are such a disgusting pervert. I am never sitting on that thing, again."
She turned on the television and sat down in the recliner, not knowing that we, too, had recently met and fallen in love.
And finally, one day I did discover my right hand. And to spice things up, I would switch to the left and pretend it was a stranger.
But it's Ken for whom I will always hold a special place in my heart. I loved that raft. I loved Ken unconditionally.
ecstatic