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April 2011


my (our) books

Fool for Love When You Don't See Me

Someone Like You I'm Your Man

He's The One It Had To Be You

The Mammoth Book of New Gay Erotica Best Gay Erotica 2007

Best Gay Love Stories: New York City Best Gay Love Stories 2005

Three Fortunes In One Cookie The Deal


If you have any of the above books and would like them signed, mail them to:

P.O. Box 131845, Houston, TX., 77219.

Please include three dollars for return postage.

Send email to timothyjlambert@gmail.com

Warning: This blog may contain homosexuals which in the states of California and Maine have been alleged to destroy the sanctity of marriage. Read at your own risk.


recommended courses of action

Scout's Honor Rescue is an all-breed, no-kill, Not-For-Profit 501(c)(3) animal rescue organization committed to bringing courage, character and compassion to Houston's homeless pet population and making a positive difference in the lives of these stray and abandoned animals and the Houston community as a whole. 100% of every dollar donated goes directly to saving the life of a homeless animal.

Scouts Honor Rescue Inc.

locally known


maine AIDS alliance

global AIDS alliance


AIDS foundation houston

bering omega community services

frannie peabody center

Timothy's hair by Larry Henderson Hair Design.

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voices carry

Excerpted from a letter I wrote to a wonderful man who recently flirted with me...

I used to love flirting. When I lived in NYC I did a favor for an actress friend and appeared as an extra in a very low-budget short film in which I played a guy on a date with another guy at a bowling alley. In my scene I had to flirt with one of the main characters—a guy on a date with my actress friend's character—while my date's back was turned. This role required me to do my best nonverbal flirting. I gave suggestive glances, meaningful stares, come-hither lips. Unfortunately, the director kept saying, "Cut! I need more from you. Make it bigger." Or, "Cut! You're not being obvious enough. What you want from him isn't coming across to the camera. We need more." Time after time she cut and made me start over. I left the bowling alley feeling like a hideous untouchable with no social skills whatsoever. I flirted with myself in my mirror at home and thought, "Ew! Is that what I've been doing?" I went to my favorite bar later, got drunk, flirted with a guy, and luckily I got lucky, thus saving me from a lifetime of broken mirrors and self-flagellation.

All roads lead back to self-flagellation.

I'm not entirely convinced that I write romance, but everybody seems to believe that I do, so I let them believe that. [Sentence partially deleted. -ed. note]I may need convincing that romance still exists. I'm sure it does, but I haven't seen much of it lately. I'm not good at relationships. Or, rather, to rewrite the song in Evita, when it comes to dating, my motto is: I'd be surprisingly bad for you. When I write about relationships between men, I think of my life and write the opposite. Or, I write about the kind of relationships I'd like to have, but don't; the kind of person I'd like to be in a relationship, but am not.

As F. Scott Fitzgerald wrote, "Writers aren't people exactly. Or, if they're any good, they're a whole lot of people trying so hard to be one person." When somebody—like yourself—flirts with me, I smile, feel really good for about five minutes, and then the people in my head start chattering:

"He met you under extenuating circumstances; you're different when you're at home. You're not that charming in real life." "He seems nice. I like him. Maybe we'll spend the rest of our lives together." "He's not flirting with you. He's flirting with who he wants you to be. He wants to change you. Resist." "He's sweet. You're too selfish. Stop this at once." "I want to fuck him. NOW." "You know how you are. Is this worth it?" "Wouldn't it be wonderful though?" "What if you are that person he thinks you are?" "It's all a game. Go directly to Jail." "He's kidding. This is all a big joke. Get real." "What are you talking about? I'm a good person. I deserve this." "I own you. You have to go to the bathroom now. Run!" "Shameshameshameshameshameshameshame."

I don't know if other people go through this, but I often feel like a whole lot of crazy people trying so hard to be one sane person. And I'm not sure if any of us are good. It seems safer for everybody involved to nip it in the bud and just write about relationships, rather than drive a perfectly nice guy to become as crazy as I may or may not be.

Maybe I'll focus on that for the TJB book we're currently writing: Is flirting real? Or is it just crazy-talk?

I'm sorry; you didn't ask for any of this, this babblefest. Free verse vs. psychobabble. Feel lucky that your many miles away, a safe distance. I look forward to reading your story. I'm sure I'll read it and wish it was nonfiction. Perhaps I'll end up using it as a How To guide.

Let's see if I drop the cloak of sanity, give in to vulnerability, and dare to hit "Send Now." {I did. - ed. note.]