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genao

julio-alexi genao

My biggest passion is my passion. It's really big. Also my penis. Really big also. Like my passion.

Left on St. Truth-be-Well - Amy Lane a fresh and exciting debut from a promising new voice in literature: Maramy Calanemes.what happens when amy lane writes a book while channeling mary calmes? or mary calmes writes a book as amy lane? or amy lane gets dolled-up in mary calmes drag?awesome. awesome happens.du calmes:* le proclemation of le claiming.* 'you clean? i'm clean. we clean? let's fuck.'* elfin, gutbucket bottom who fails to realize he's a bottom until the man who claims him claims him lustily with his cock.* eternal love a foregone conclusion within 24 hours of the (spectacularly good) meet-cute.du lane:* passages of surpassing insight and beauty, such as the one that compared the act of opening your body to another human being to the act of trusting them with a secret beyond price. truly gorgeous.* humor. proper amy lane humor—the kind that finds the hilarity in the mundane, like sibling rivalry, or an alligator on your front lawn.* cunning detail, like the chicago dog, the el, the best corned beef in the etc. these are things that make up the ingredients of a place, and they're deployed here masterfully.* the emotions we all sense between the warp and weft of the fabric we tailor into the patched and tattered things we call our lives, but rarely acknowledge. the loneliness in saying goodbye to a friend. the fear behind turning down the attentions of another, if they offer anything more noble than a quick handjob in a broom cupboard. what it means to shove a lover into a shrubbery during a crisis.du fuq did i just read:* token murder plot so desultorily drawn it's insulting.* i couldn't make heads or tails of the navi joke.* the odd rhetorical excess not worth mentioning here. except maybe the one where carson fucks his city goodbye, while getting scooped-out from behind, standing in front of a window. that one might be worth mentioning.* all the unattractive people in this book are bad-guys. it's a classic literary device—the outside matches the inside—but it's wrong, thoughtless, and not what i've come to expect from the amy lane who can make me weep at the staggering breadth of human kindness to be found in a pan of tuna casserole.* no peacoat. no dane. no lawyers or doctors or children, or mouthy but fiercely loyal secretaries. YER SLACKIN', calmes. slackin'.dulightful:* the hottest, most lovingly crafted buildup of attraction i've ever read. when it was time for monsieur gutbucket to dispense with his delusions and be cored like an apple, i dropped everything, drew the blinds, and had myself a 19 minute diddle to celebrate.in fact, i will give you an example of how good this bit was:the buildup, etc, the glances, the gut-tighteningly attractive laughter, the ripe bulge in cut-off shorts and the sunkissed hair and the banter and the 'i-will-totally-fuck-you-in-half' quirking of full lips, all of it, so intensely vivid that by the time this happened:Carson’s face grew warm, and he took a drink of water to mask it. By the time he was done with his bottle, that hand on his bicep had moved to the back of his neck...i could do nothing but post this status:you know how I enjoy poking fun at Mary Calmes for her anatomically improbable fluttering holes? swear to god my asshole just flapped a staccato like a flag in a hurricane.i was #teamflorida from the word 'mine.'