The Best Book Review Ever for It Ain't Truth If It Doesn't Hurt

I received an email today from a beloved educator and friend from back home in Minneapolis letting me know that he is including my book as part of the book list for his class next fall.

He also shared with me why and sent me the opening paragraph from one of his students, a conservative Chinese woman that had lots of questions about mixed race folks, queer folks, and politics. This woman teaches Chinese and translated some of of lines in the book into Chinese to help her understand better.

This is why I write. And this will keep me writing until I jump into the dirt for that long nap. You can purchase a copy here.

IT AIN’T TRUTH IF IT DOESN’T HURT

I was shocked, surprised and excited when I read Brandon Lacy Campos’s poem “It ain’t truth if it doesn’t hurt.” I read once, twice, checked my English – Chinese dictionary, read it a third and fourth time. I was shocked by Brandon’s straight forward thinking, he bravely writes: “I don’t believe in America, I don’t believe in the Constitution…” If this was in China, he could be put in jail for that statement. But thanks to the freedom of this great nation, Brandon is not in jail, his book was published and distributed. I admire Brandon’s courage to stand up for his point of view, regardless of how others may possibly criticize. I admire his spiritual freedom and plenitude sentiments towards the people he loves. I was surprised to read a very different style of poems, they have lots of graphic descriptions, long and short, they are parallelism, but not strict on rhyme, and are strong and powerful. I was excited to read his poetry, its raw without any shyness, and I felt his rage and anxiety. I saw the death and blood, and smelled the rosebud and paint. I fell in love with the writing… And as a conservative Chinese woman, felt the excitement of holding Brandon’s collection as if holding a banned book.

This Pozitive Life

Last night, I read my poem H-I-ME for the second time in public. The last time was a year ago, the day that I wrote it, and after completely breaking down and sobbing my way through that performance, I set it aside. Over the last year, I have either chosen to face or been force to face some of the realities of living with HIV. I have made good choices and bad choices, and I have had to sit with some very hard moments. Last night, when I read the poem, I didn't break down. Let's be real, by the end of the poem by entire body was shaking, I felt exposed and vulnerable, and I wanted to bolt from the room. Instead, I had to pull up a chair and face a half an hour of questions and comments from the audience during a facilitated panel.

And the panel moderator, my friend Collete Carter, Co-Director of the Audre Lorde Project, ain't no joke.

I felt myself, sitting underneath the lights, sweating, trying to make my body as absolutely small as possible. There were folks in the room that knew me intimately and had lived with me through some of my hardest moments. There were folks in the room that I didn't know at all, and there was a person in the room that I have just begun to know--and let me say that with this particular person....there are rarely any frivolous moments...so I sat there...feeling stripped down, trying my best to continue to answer the questions posed with honesty, while all the while wanting to run hard and fast.

The problem is that you can't run from yourself.

HIV is a part of my life. It is a part of my reality. I am in great health. I am a non-progressor. I have a T-Cell count of a "normie," (1000+) my viral load is never above 3,000 (you have to be at least at 100,000 replications before medication is recommended). I am likely to die an incontinent mean ass old man pinching the asses of orderlies that aren't even born yet. Yet, the stigma, shame, and all around shit show that this world puts on people living with HIV, combined with all the messages we (I) lay on ourselves makes living with this disease about as fun as putting your penis in a blender and hitting puree.

In general, I am ok with my status. When I am not feeling ok with it...I write about it. But sometimes, life throws you a moment, that straight up knocks the wind right out of you.

Last night, after the show, I was hanging out with someone important to me. As we were talking as we are wont to do, after I made a comment about an unrelated subject, he stopped the conversation and said, "I think I am angry with you."

It was so out of the blue, that I kind of giggled and asked why. When his face changed, I knew something was coming that I probably wasn't going to enjoy. I knew it was would be honest. I knew it would be challenging. I knew it would be truthful. And I was fairly certain I was going to hate whatever he said next.

Call my ass Miss Cleo, because I was right. Call me now!

He said to me, "I think I am angry with you because you are HIV positive."

I could feel my pupils dilating as he was speaking. It was direct. It was real. And I had no idea what to do with it.

And then the coup de grace came. "And I am mad at you for hurting yourself like that."

Entre the tears.

Nothing he said was designed to hurt. There was more to the conversation but that isn't for this blog. And what he said did hurt. It was the truth. And it hurt like Hell. I did hurt myself. I have never blamed anyone else for my HIV status, but nor had I really looked at my myself and said...hey kid...you did this to yourself. I did. I have all kinds of reasons why I went searching for love and validation in the form of a dick. I was looking for something that was missing or taken from me growing up. Instead, what I found, like so many others find, is this fucking disease. And I realized that not only did I hurt myself, but once I tested positive there was a sense of satisfaction. It was confirmation of everything that I believe(d) about myself. I was unlovable. I was untouchable. I was unworthy of love. And having HIV was very simply the confirmation of all the things that I knew to be true about myself.

I LOVE to be right. And my positive diagnosis was the ultimate confirmation of just how right I was about myself. And until my friend told me last night that he was angry with me, I had never been forced to actually look at it in this way. Nor have I ever articulated it.

Damn. Just damn. damn. damn. damn. damn.

Last night when Collette asked us the question what is the truth about ourselves that hurts. When it got to me, I said out loud that my truth that hurts is that I have believed and still sometimes believe that I am unworthy of the amazing love and devotion and care that I have been blessed to have in my life. To fight that, I actively seek out that love and give it back when I can. I actively look for people to be in my life, like my friend last night, who will tell me the truths that may not feel great but are the things that I need to hear.

I am so grateful to have these people in my life...to love me when it is hard...to be my truth tellers...and to let me have the pain without getting lost in it.

I am worthy of love. HIV doesn't determine who I am or how I move through the world, and I will continue to take these truths in, let them hurt until the hurt goes away, and then keep on living. Too many people have invested too much into my life and my well being for me to do any less.

It Ain't Truth If It Doesn't Hurt: A Great Big Thank You!

Sometimes miracles do happen. I haven't learned how to walk on water yet, but I'll be damned if I didn't finally have a book release party for my long awaited poetry collection: It Ain't Truth If It Doesn't Hurt. The collaboration with artist David Berube is stunning. The reviews so far have been amazing. It's my publisher's number one best selling volume right now. It has been selling out on Amazon.com. It's available online and in stores at Barnes and Noble. Ladies and gentleman...it's official...I am an author.

And I have all ya'll to thank for it.

From those of you that have put me on stages, encouraged me to write, sat through performances, workshopped my writing, loved me through my shit, brought me to your campuses, put me on your panels, invited me to speak at your conferences, fed me, fucked me, loved me, held me, hated me, walked away from me, walked towards me, published me, rejected me, infected me, gave birth to me, raised me, abused me, healed me, taught me, and brought me to this exact point in my life...this book was given to the world.

Thank you.

This last Wednesday, by the grace of God, I turned 34 years old. That same day, I had my book release party at Bartini Ultra-Lounge in Hell's Kitchen. Thank you to the owners Joe Puc and Ted Arenas for donating the space for the party. I hope the 60 odd folks I brought in during happy hour drank enough to make it worth while! I was surprised at my book party by the most effing amazing cake that I have ever seen or eaten. Master cake baker Huascar Aquino of H Cakes in New York made an exact replica of my book, completely edible, that was so real that no less than THREE people tried to open the damn thing before I could shout them down (Brandon Dean I am talking to you!).

Mr. Andrew Werner of Andrew Werner Photography was on hand to photo document the event and put his magic eye on things, and I am deeply appreciative of his support as well.

Old friends and very new friends showed up to cheer me on and buy copies of the book! The party was a fantastic success, and I left the party feel loved, supported, and mostly content to be at the place I am at in my life. It ain't perfect, but it is my truth, and it is a glorious truth even if sometimes it really does hurt.

Thank you again to my publisher Sven Davisson of Rebel Satori Press, Bathabile Mthombeni and riKu Matsuda for putting me on their radio shows to promote the book, and Ebony "Miss Celie" Adams for hosting my first book party in Los Angeles. Your book and your ducats gonna be to you soon gal.

And thank you all ya'll that continue to show me love and to support my work. I love you all.

(PS for regular updates on the book, performances and signings related to the book, and occassional bloggings about it....please check out www.itainttruthifitdoesnthurt.blogspot.com--it's barebones right now, but I am working on it).

It Ain't Truth If It Doesn't Hurt. Buy It Now!

Four years ago, I got an email from an old college friend by the name of Maureen McDole. Maureen, her husband, and a couple other folks had started a new, small press in Florida called Summerfolk, and Maureen wanted to know if I would be interested in submitting a poetry manuscript for consideration for publication.

Does a carriage horse shit in the street?

oOf course, I said yes. It took me about a year to get my act together to get a manuscript to the editors, and in the meantime I met the man I would eventually be with for the next three years. On meeting David, and seeing his art work, I asked him if he would consider a collaboration with me on the book. Twenty poems matched with 20 of his lino cut prints from his Face A Day series. He said yes. The publishers said yes. And so, the concept that would become the book, It Ain't Truth If It Doesn't Hurt, was born.

The last three years have been a wild ride of love, war, growth, change, hurt, loss, pain, and healing. Gabriel Garling with Summerfolk Press designed a fantastic book, but, the economic reality of the times is that the press, a labor of love, has been put on hold due to the recession. Unfortunately that meant that the good people at Summerfolk couldn't print our book.

Enter Sven Davisson at Rebel Satori Press.

About a year ago, I realized that I was well on my way to writing my first novel. By August of last year, I had a good 100 or so pages written. My friends Emanuel Xavier and Charlie Vazquez were both being published by the Queer Mojo imprint of Rebel Satori Press. I asked them if they would put in a good word with their publisher for me. He asked to see a sample of the novel and a synposis. I obliged. He obliged me by giving my a contract for my first novel, Eden Lost, which will be out later this Fall (YES BETTY TISEL I AM WORKING ON THE DANG REVISIONS!). In May, Sven descended from his mighty mountain eyrie in Maine to attend the book release party for Emanuel Xavier's latest project, Me No Hablo con Acento, and I had a chance to meet and hang out with Sven. I mentioned, in passing, that I had this completed manuscript that I was considering self-publishing. Sven gave me complete side eye and said, "No, no. Send it to me. If I like it, I will publish it."

Sven liked it. Sven published it. You can order it right now. Help a broke writer be less broke and do yourself a favor...get an amazing book with poetry and art that is, in my humble opinion, amazing. But don't just take my word for it. Take their words too:

"Brandon Lacy Campos is an important poet that doesn't cut corners and doesn't compromise. His work is vivid, jagged, and it takes up space in the most beautiful way. To invest time in getting familiar with his poetry is to invest in vitality. I hope this is just the first shout to announce the arrival of his chorus." -Bao Phi, author of Song I Sing.

"Brandon Lacy Campos is a word thief of the best and brightest kind, pilfering from “a corrupt system that must fall/If we’re ever to have liberty and justice for all.” These scathing, impassioned poems kick up stars dragged along asphalt—with outlandish sass, old-time funk, and a hot, ever-shimmying soul that could teach the stiffest otherness in anyone more than a few things about its most generous self." Ed Bok Lee, best selling author of Real Karaoke People.

"Brandon Lacy Campos is part tomahawk thrower and part philosopher, a fresh voice of queer rebellion, an outsider talking of revolution, avenging exploitation. The stinging lashes on a slave’s back, the mystical incantations of native medicine men, the curiosities of an innocent white child and the cultural bisection of a bilingual Latino—these are the things he sees, as these are the things he is. These poems are monuments to the victims of abuse, to the splendor of visionary queer consciousness—to true America." Charlie Vázquez, fiction writer, blogger and host of the queer East Village reading series, PANIC!, author of Contraband and co-editor of From Macho to Mariposa: New Gay Latino Fiction (get this book too! It includes an excerpt from Eden Lost).


You can buy your copy of It Ain't Truth If It Doesn't Hurt, today!

One Liner of the Week Award: Ebony Adams

I have a friend that is what, in the technical jargon, is classified as straight up country colored Kookers McGee. Look that up in the DSM-IV, and you will find a picture of Miss Ebony Adams formerly of Cheyenne, Wyoming (one of three and a half Negroes in the entire state) and currently of Los Angeles, California. Bourgie ass Brentwood to be exact.

I ain't mad at her, I am currently sitting up in her living room, drinking her wine, and cooking her food.

Ebony and I met through my Non-Romantic Life Partner Jason Ruiz who was, whilst finishing his PhD, a dissertation fellow at Macalester College where Professor Kookers McGee was teaching the children a thing or two. Upon meeting Ebony, I immediately developed a colored crush. She was brilliant and country and sweet and sassy and so much goodness wrapped up in a gorgeous little box that I had no choice but to love the Hell out of this girl.

She been there for me through some crazy ass shit I put myself through and kept right on loving my Kookers butt, and now, four and some years later, I am sitting in her house in LA doing the colored things I mentioned above.

Hey glory. Praise Him.

Yesterday, Ebony and her fab roommate Jen threw my first book party to celebrate the launch of It Ain't Truth If It Doesn't Hurt (which is now available for pre-order from my publisher and Amazon.com). Despite the fact that immediately after finishing a radio interview an walking into her living room and slicing my foot open down to the meaty meat on a sliver of glass, I still love her.

Eb prepared all kinds of goody snacks for the fiesta including a black bean dip that she lamented was flavorless.

Fast forward to this morning.

It was early as Hell, and Ebony had gotten up and made breakfast before she had to go to work. I walked in the kitchen to dish me up a plate, and I noticed that Ebony had the black bean dip out to put on the eggs and stuff.

All of a sudden I hear Ebony exclaim from the front room,

"Oh snap. These beans done sat around and got good all of a sudden."

I laughed so hard I almost fell face first into the hot ass cast iron skillet on the stove.

And that, mon cheries, is the One Liner of the Week.

And thank you to Ebony and Jen for hosting a fabulous book party. Love ya'll.

More Advanced Praise for "It Ain't Truth If It Doesn't Hurt"

Bao Phi is one of the fiercest and best known spoken word artists practicing the art in the United States. He is the curator of the Equilibrium Spoken Word series at the Loft Literary Center (www.loft.org), which is the largest literary center in the United States. Bao has won numerous awards and has been featured on HBO's Def Poetry Jam. He has toured these United States and brought his love and truth to thousands of people in hundreds of audiences.

He is also a friend. Bao's poetry can be heard from HBO to light rail stops in Minneapolis (no lie, next time you are in Minneapolis at one of the stops, press or crank one of the levers that says push here, and you will hear Bao's poetry). Here is a Wikipedia entry for my main Vietnamese man.

And to check out Bao's poetry, click here to listen to "You Bring Out the Vietnamese In Me," one of my favorite Bao Phi specials.

Thank you, Bao, for taking the time to read my manuscript and for loving up on Juliana Pegues, another one of my favorite people and poets. Your love and support over the last almost decade has been much appreciated.

Here is Bao Phi's advanced review of my book, It Ain't Truth If It Doesn't Hurt, due out from Summerfolk Press in Spring 2010.

"Brandon Lacy Campos is an important poet that doesn't cut corners and doesn't compromise. His work is vivid, jagged, and it takes up space in the most beautiful way. To invest time in getting familiar with his poetry is to invest in vitality. I hope this is just the first shout to announce the arrival of his chorus." -Bao Phi.

Thanks Bao. Your support helped bring out the poet in me.

Excerpts from It Ain't Truth If It Doesn't Hurt

My publisher, Summerfolk Press, has a fantastic website where you can read excerpts from my upcoming book It' Aint Truth If It Doesn't Hurt (due out in February 2010).

On the site you can also find portions of Mark Haber's recently released collection of short stories, Death Bed Conversions.

And, also, there are several pieces from Maureen McDole's Exploring My Options.

Take a minute to check out the work of these authors and my work.

More Advanced Praise for "It Ain't Truth If It Doesn't Hurt"

Hey folks:

Super exciting news. Ed Bok Lee, author of the best-selling collection of poetry Real Karaoke People reviewed my manuscript for my upcoming book (and collaboration with visual artist David Berube) from Summerfolk Press: It Ain't Truth If It Doesn't Hurt.

Here is what Ed had to say:

Brandon Lacy Campos is a word thief of the best and brightest kind, pilfering from “a corrupt system that must fall/If we’re ever to have liberty and justice for all.” These scathing, impassioned poems kick up stars dragged along asphalt—with outlandish sass, old-time funk, and a hot, ever-shimmying soul that could teach the stiffest otherness in anyone more than a few things about its most generous self.


--Ed Bok Lee, author of Real Karaoke People

Look for It Ain't Truth If It Doesn't Hurt in October 2009!

Advanced Praise for It Ain't Truth If It Doesn't Hurt!

Advanced praise for my first solo book of poetry, due out at the end of September from Summerfolk Press, It Ain't Truth If It Doesn't Hurt.. Look soon for the release of a webpage for the book!

"Brandon Lacy Campos is part tomahawk thrower and part philosopher, a fresh voice of queer rebellion, an outsider talking of revolution, avenging exploitation. The stinging lashes on a slave’s back, the mystical incantations of native medicine men, the curiosities of an innocent white child and the cultural bisection of a bilingual Latino—these are the things he sees, as these are the things he is. These poems are monuments to the victims of abuse, to the splendor of visionary queer consciousness—to true America."

Charlie Vázquez, fiction writer, blogger and host of the queer East Village reading series, PANIC!