The Eagles of Gay Sex

In place of the usual column, I’m inviting you all to check out Peach Fuzz Magazine’s Issue 29, on sale this week.

I have a short story about the Eagles and gay sex in this issue, and I think you would all probably enjoy it. The story is also a tribute to the late Randy Meisner, who was still with us when I was writing.

For those unfamiliar, Peach Fuzz is a sex-positive nudie magazine, so even if the Eagles and short fiction don’t interest you, they’ve got luxurious film photography of hot naked people!

You can order Issue 29 here.

Anyone who orders Issue 29 is entitled to a free bookmark from my print shop; message me your receipt and address and I’ll send one your way!

To tempt you further, here’s a small sampling from the story’s opening~

The only thing more embarrassing than telling people you play bass professionally is telling them you play for an Eagles cover band called “Ill-Eagles” at the Hotel California (#2) in Las Vegas. Michael tended not to tell people. In the city of sin, everyone was usually lying as a matter of course. If anyone asked he said he was a waiter—which was also true—and a more respectable career choice for a man in his late-twenties than dressing like a cowboy and playing songs radio DJs had long ago driven into the ground.

He rolled up to guests’ tables wearing his ten-gallon hat, a winning smile, and asked if they wanted their eggs Tequila Sunrised or Take It Over Easy. If the terrible jokes broke through the hangovers and made at least one person laugh, Michael could expect a decent tip. None of the guests ever recognized him, and that was okay. Everyone, even the girls, wore cowboy hats and boots, costume spurs clicking back and forth. These the Hotel California (#2) provided to its employees, though you weren’t allowed to take them home. Michael didn’t mind the uniform. He’d gone alone to see Brokeback Mountain in theaters three days in a row. Wanted to be like Jack and Ennis, except not dead. Wept the entire time. Bungled his harmonies each night, to the point where Bernie, the bandleader, took him aside to have “a real chat about his future in the band.” Michael told him his mother had died, which wasn’t true, but ended the conversation quicker.

He told his dad the truth about his job and told his coworker Jackie the truth about the movie. He regretted both admissions. Now his dad kept promising to fly out from Massachusetts to “catch one of his shows” and Jackie was always breaking the sacred rules of server sections to get him close to whichever customer she thought was gay that day. Eventually he told her, “Honey, no self-respecting gay man is coming to the Hotel California (#2) looking for love.” The Eagles, he said, are the straight man’s ABBA…

Like I said, if you order a copy of Issue 29, I will mail you a FREE, handprinted bookmark! Some of them say SHREK, TRANS, or KENOUGH. You can pick!