Posts Tagged ‘Sexuality’
My Surprising Lack of Gay Pride
Tuesday, June 7th, 2011
For most of my life I’ve been judgmental and a little impatient with gay people who didn’t just come out. Are the risks really that dire? I suspected they were just chicken shit, or unwilling to stand up to their family or to whatever screwed up religious upbringing they had.
Growing up on Air Force bases wasn’t exactly the Castro, but I didn’t know any better than to walk and talk however I pleased (I was in full sashay mode by the age of twelve). I was sexually active soon thereafter, and stunned my Louisiana high school with an older boyfriend in my senior year.
Yes, I grappled with my Methodist teachings and suffered through some brutal rounds of dodge ball (affectionately known as “Smear the Queer†where I come from), but making it though my teens was mercifully uneventful.
The bullies were too freaked out by my jumpsuits and platform shoes to approach me, though I must credit my perpetually embarrassed, varsity jock brother for helping keep them at bay. The result of this rather fortunate gay adolescence was my ignorance of the perils of being out, and that arrogance suited me just fine for most of my young adulthood.
And then, years after my own coming of age, Matthew Shepard tried to live openly as a young gay man, too — until he was beaten and left to die tied to a fence in Wyoming. The images and details of his horrific final hours were like blunt force trauma directly to my heart. How could I have been so cavalier about what the real costs of coming out could be?
Today, I never downplay the societal risks of being gay, but I focus my writing on two things that added shameful layers to my identity: HIV and drug addiction. How ironic that the kid who believed there were no dangers to growing up gay would fall victim to two of the most common health risks among gay men: being infected with HIV and using drugs.
I’m still a sashaying, gay stereotype representing the most fabulous social ills, it would appear.
My sense of pride emerged not in response to being gay, but in my response to HIV and my drug addiction, in that order. I found personal self worth by helping my community face AIDS in the 1980’s, and I have rediscovered my self esteem while on the treacherous road back from crystal meth addiction.
Being gay isn’t something I have been proud of, in and of itself. But I take pride in how I have handled what I consider the fallout of being gay.
During this gay pride month of June, I hope we’ll all take some time to assess what we’re so damn proud of. I’ve made that list, and “being gay†isn’t anywhere on it. Do I take my sexuality for granted, or am I ungrateful?
I’m proud of Mark, the man as he is today. I’m proud of my brother for keeping the bullies away. And I’m proud at my success, day by day, of recovering from addiction and having a purpose.
With that, I’ll sashay out of here.
Mark
(The video above is a gay pride message I produced last year, and I would encourage you to watch it. What begins as a funny take on public service announcements becomes something surprisingly different and emotional. As always, my friends, feel free to share my content, and please be well.)
Tags: Aging, aids, culture, gay, gratitude, help others, hiv, meth, recovery, Sexuality
Posted in Books and Writings, Family and Friends, Gay Life, Living with HIV/AIDS, Meth and Recovery, My Fabulous Disease | 12 Comments »
Calling HIV Negative Gay Men: This is Your Time
Tuesday, May 31st, 2011
This is directed to HIV negative gay men. Listen carefully. This is your time.
I’ve lived with HIV more than half my life, and people often praise me far more than I deserve, simply for surviving. They use words like brave and courageous.
You know what takes courage? Getting an HIV test every few months. You, waiting nervously while your most personal sexual choices are literally being tested, waiting to find out if you’ve been good – or if you’re going to pay for a single lapse in judgment by testing positive, when the look on the faces of your friends will say you should have known better.
I have no idea what that must be like. I took the test over 25 years ago. The positive result was traumatic, no doubt about it, and I soldiered on during some awfully frightening times. But I have a significant psychological advantage over my HIV negative friends: I only took that damn test once.
During all these years, I’ve acted irresponsibly at times or taken chances I hadn’t intended. But there has been no further judgment from a blood test. That reckoning was faced long ago.
But you – whether you have been sexually active for a year or a decade – have very likely faced some tough choices and behaved wisely. You keep doing the right thing.
This is your time. The word courageous is for you.
If you don’t define yourself, in large part, by the fact you are HIV negative, start now. It is your accomplishment. It says you are taking care. And it says you are eligible to participate in vaccine trials or mentor someone else trying to remain negative.
There is ongoing research now that is focused on HIV negative men like you. Exciting new studies are investigating drugs to prevent infection after something risky has occurred, while other studies have shown promise for a drug regimen that might block infection before it happens.
And right now there are vaccine trials waiting for men like you to help find the ultimate weapon against HIV. They need volunteers, badly.
This is your time. This research is about you. This call to action is for you.
I can already hear the rumblings on both sides of the viral divide. People are so quick to take offense, so afraid of being misunderstood, of being labeled or blamed or ostracized.
My fellow positive brothers are so bruised by stigma that it can be hard for them to lift you up. They’ve been rejected by you. They don’t like hearing “maybe we should just be friends†and they don’t like seeing “UB2†in your online profile. They might be positive as a result of one heated mistake, or due to sexual assault, or by trusting (or loving) the wrong person — and they deeply resent feeling judged.
Maybe they think your negative status is the result of pure luck, or that you don’t like anal intercourse, or you’re lying.
Meanwhile, your sacrifices go unrecognized. You’ve seen some positive friends take early disability, hang out at the gym and get help with the rent. They receive so much support and empathy that it must feel like there isn’t much left for you. Every year we all swarm the streets for the AIDS Walk, and you can’t help but wonder if your parade will ever arrive.
These grievances and resentments give me a headache. It doesn’t matter much to me who is most injured. How infinite is our compassion for one another? I don’t care anymore who gets what. What matters most is who does what.
This is your time. This truce, this call to a higher purpose, is for you.
You are fully human, like everyone else, my friend. You are courageous, afraid, selfish and compassionate. You make difficult choices and you make mistakes. And we need you so very badly.
Thank God for you. This is your time.
(This piece was written as part of the GA Voice commemoration of 30 years of HIV/AIDS. I was honored to contribute to their special issue. — Mark)
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If you haven’t caught up with the blog from gay theologian the Rev. Chris Glaser, his thoughtful posting about the rapture, and what it means to be left behind, is a great introduction. Chris has a way of bringing Christian teachings back to their essential meanings (in other words, without the hateful language and intent we have come to expect from fundamentalists). As a child he didn’t want to go to hell, but he was afraid of the rapture because of his fear of heights. And who in their right mind would leave this poor doggie behind?
Sadly, as the lives of thousands of people living with HIV/AIDS hang in the balance, our federal government has funded numerous “pet projects” – including such programs as Jell-O wrestling at the South Pole, testing shrimp’s exercise ability on a treadmill and a laundry-folding robot, all funded by the National Science Foundation. These facts, from the ADAP Advocacy Association’s (aaa+) newest blog posting, paint a dire picture of our national healthcare priorities. The blog also begs the question, “Where is the leadership?” I would urge urge you follow aaa+ and stay tuned for ways in which you can advocate to solve this national disgrace.
A New York Times article on the scientific history of AIDS does a great job of showing how naive researchers were in the beginning of the epidemic (a 1981 New England Journal of Medicine editorial didn’t even allow for the existence of a new microbe), but, more importantly, it highlights the ways in which AIDS activism and research has rewarded all of mankind with swifter drug approval and better patient advocacy:
“The relative speed with which the therapies were developed owes much to the efforts of cadres of activists who demanded that the Food and Drug Administration loosen the rules for clinical trials and speed its drug approval process. Efforts to develop anti-H.I.V. drugs have paid handsome dividends by leading to development of other drugs to treat other viral infections, like the liver diseases hepatitis B and C and certain types of herpes viruses. Also, AIDS advocacy has spurred leaders of campaigns against breast cancer and other diseases to adopt similar strategies.”
As always, my friends, please be well. And I hope you will “share” this posting with your friends and colleagues. Here’s to a wonderful summer!
Mark
Tags: aids, culture, gay, gratitude, help others, hiv, research, Sexuality, testing
Posted in Books and Writings, Gay Life, Living with HIV/AIDS, My Fabulous Disease, News, Prevention and Policy | 4 Comments »
Can I blame gay culture for my drug addiction, please?
Friday, May 20th, 2011
After a lifetime of sporadic, recreational drug use, I became a full-blown crystal meth addict ten years ago, and then eventually got clean and sober in January of 2009. But why would I, or anyone as engaged in life as I was, morph into a drug addict?
It seemed an unlikely turn of events for a gay advocate and outspoken community leader living with HIV. Was my drug addiction some sort of post-traumatic stress from the AIDS horror show of the 1980’s?
Maybe it pre-dated AIDS, and resulted from the stress and shame of growing up gay. It’s easy to understand why anyone who came of age believing they were perverted (and going straight to hell) might need a stiff drink. Research indicates that gay men and lesbians are more likely to smoke, drink and use drugs. Was I born this way, GaGa?
So I was immediately drawn to the new book, Gay Men and Substance Abuse: A Basic Guide for Addicts and Those Who Care for Them. I thought the book might bolster my hypothesis that I was a victim of gay culture and doomed from the start.
Because, my dear friends, even after more than two years living clean and sober, I still jump at the chance of blaming my behavior on something other than myself.
Alas, the book is a helpful, informative guide but it doesn’t let me off the hook. It hasn’t the least bit of interest in finger pointing. Instead, it offers practical information and advice about addiction, treatment, relapse and recovery – written specifically for gay men and their families. I would strongly recommend it for gay lovers or allies trying to understand the addiction and recovery process, and required reading for those working in the field.
I spoke to author Michael Shelton, M.S., C.A.C., about the ways in which addiction and recovery are different for gay men, and he pointed out the importance of family support, and the fact that gay men often don’t have it.
“The number one precipitant for a person seeking help is family,†Michael told me. “If they have no close relationship with their family or a significant other, there’s no one on their back telling them to get into treatment.â€
But what about gay culture itself? Michael wasn’t ready to make blanket pronouncements about gay culture’s perils, but he did note the connection between our preoccupation with sex and the almost mythical sexual reputation of drugs like crystal meth.
“We absolutely have created sexual monsters†he said. “I see these guys every week (in my practice), and the only way they can engage in sexual contact with another man is through the use of substances.â€
Michael does allow that gay media plays a role in this hyper-sexuality. “The norms of our community say that one of the primary goals is hot sex as much as possible. Gay male culture is a hyper sexual culture. Pick up any gay paper and notice the sexual content.â€
Michael was quick to add that “this doesn’t deny the fact there are many long term gay couples,†but that statement didn’t fit my agenda – Gay culture contributed to my addiction! I had something to blame! – so I ignored it and called my gay BFF Charles to announce my findings.
“Charles!†I began. I had caught him at a subway stop waiting to commute home from his governmental public health work. He does the green thing. “It’s no wonder I became a drug addict, Charles.â€
“Really? How do you figure that?†he asked.
“Because I’ve been such a totally gay man!†I was lightheaded with blame deflection. “And being gay is all about hyper-sexuality and taking steroids and looking hot and dancing on boxes at circuit parties, just like I did. Oh, and don’t forget sex parties!â€
There was silence for a moment. I could hear a garbled announcement on the subway speakers at his end.
“Well, that pretty much negates my life,†Charles finally said, flatly.
Charles has never been fond of drugs. His sex life has been more conservative than mine, meaning, in the realm of sanity, and his party days consisted of dance floor celebrations that ended before last call. He’s never seen the inside of a sex club.
“Oh Charles, I didn’t mean –“
“Your view is so small, Mark. You think when you stopped that behavior and going to those places… did you think you had reached the far limits of gay culture?â€
I was properly chastised. “Yeah,†I said. “I felt like that for a while.â€
“Then welcome to the rest of the real world, Mark. Say hello to all the gays who have real lives and real jobs and are standing at subway stops waiting to get home to feed the cat. Is that not gay enough for you, because I’m not stopping at a bathhouse on the way home? I’m going shopping later to find a hippie outfit to wear to a touring production of Hair I’m seeing tonight. I’m thinking love beads or pooka shells. Gay enough? Or should I shoot up meth during intermission?â€
“Yes, yes, Charles. You’re plenty gay.â€
“Gee, thanks. My train is here. Talk to you later.â€
Charles did his usual stellar job of pointing out what should be obvious to me. My self centeredness and limited viewpoint keep getting in the way. There hadn’t been room in that view for other gay men who enjoyed lives without drugs or alcohol, or who were capable of using moderately.
There is a saying among people like me that we are not responsible for our addiction, but we are responsible for our recovery. It suggests that I should not blame myself for how I got in this predicament, and while I’m at it, I probably shouldn’t blame my local gay dance club, either.
My road to recovery as a gay man looks remarkably like the road everyone else must take – paved with equal parts honesty, open-mindedness and a willingness to keep trying. That willingness, no matter how much I try deflecting and blaming others, is entirely up to one person.
That would be me. Big, flaming, gay ‘ol me.
Tags: culture, gay, meth, recovery, Recreation, Sexuality
Posted in Books and Writings, Family and Friends, Gay Life, Meth and Recovery, My Fabulous Disease | 10 Comments »
Trying to put away childish, damaging things.
Tuesday, April 12th, 2011
When I became a man, I put away childish things.
– 1 Corinthians 13:11
We’re on a dirt road in the cotton fields, sitting in the back of his Plymouth. It had been my idea to stop and look at the sky, and it doesn’t come off like a sneaky move now, because the moon is full and bright and gorgeous. I’ve been playing along but I wish he would make his move. This is the part that’s always kind of boring. He’s nice, though, and good looking, maybe around 35.
It’s a balmy Louisiana night in 1975. And I’m fourteen years old.
Everything goes as planned, and he gets me home on time so no one suspects. But he was a lot more nervous about it than I was.
And that was the routine during my teenage years. I had given up trying to mess around with other boys because it took forever to talk them into anything and I didn’t want them to freak out about it. So, I got involved in community theater productions during the summer, playing bit parts or working the spotlight, just to be in the company of gay men. Then it was just a matter of getting some time alone with them.
My strategy for getting laid worked with some regularity, and it never occurred to me there might be something inappropriate or perverse or even criminal about it. Ah, but that’s the catch. It never occurred to me.
People tell me the criminal ramifications most certainly occurred to them. They say I was molested or abused, and that it was the very definition of the word “statutory.†They say I was dealing with adults who had the capacity to know better. And, most bruising to my ego, they tell me that my seductive charms were irrelevant, and that perhaps it was they who were manipulating me.
Now, at fifty years old, I wonder if my teenage memories are trustworthy, and if it mapped an adulthood in ways I’ve failed to acknowledge. Before I became a man, before the failed relationships and the HIV and the drug addiction, there was an adolescent traveling side roads with strangers and taking dangerous walks in public parks. And it is that boy, not the legion of adult accessories, who fascinates and saddens me.
Was my fate sealed in the cotton fields of Louisiana?
The men I coaxed to those dusty roads aren’t villainous to me, and I still can’t allow them to be left dangling in guilt and shame. I won’t reduce them to simple pathology.
I met Jim in August, right before my freshman year in high school. The summer musical was “1776†and I was a stagehand. It was practically an all male cast. It was a busy summer.
After a matinee performance one afternoon, I asked Jim for a ride to a pool party someone was throwing for the cast. Once inside his car I told him I forgot my bathing suit and could we stop at his place so I could borrow one? What followed was a pitiful half naked fashion show in his bedroom, and a brief, furtive encounter between us.
Afterwards, I happily got back in the car but Jim wasn’t talking much. He got real quiet as soon as we were done.
He had driven a few blocks when Jim let out a kind of cough, like he was trying to stifle something and it burst out anyway. I looked over and his whole face was wet.
“What’s wrong?†I asked. I had seen men in rather personal situations, but I had never seen one cry.
He pulled the car over and turned it off. Everything suddenly felt quiet and important.
“What is it?†I asked in a careful voice. “Am I in trouble?â€
He was searching the car console for something and found a packet of Kleenex. He held it in his lap and started to speak while he opened it.
“I’m twice your age, Mark,†he said into his lap. His eyes were little cups of water, spilling. He turned to me. “You’re fifteen years old. I’m twice your age.â€
His mathematics meant nothing to me. He looked like he was trying to read my mind. It made me uncomfortable. I didn’t know what he wanted. I sat there and said nothing.
He turned away and gulped back more tears. And then he asked the most mysterious question of all.
“Don’t you… just want to be fifteen, Mark?â€
I had no idea what the man was talking about. I sat staring at him with my mouth open. I was completely stumped. Seconds went by and the car was silent.
My confusion seemed to disappoint him, because he shook his head slowly and looked back out the window. He was still very upset.
He wasn’t simply crying, they tell me now. They insist he was deflecting his own criminal guilt by blaming me for not acting my age. They tell me that he was the one who must have trapped me and I don’t even know it.
Either way, I think Jim got more than he bargained for. I think he was a little frightened by the manipulative and unemotional fifteen year old sitting in his car that afternoon. And I think it saddened him because he cared about me.
And sure, I felt trapped all right. I remember feeling trapped in his car, where things were not going as planned, because after ten minutes we’re still parked on the side of the road and Jim won’t stop crying. I am staring at my shoelaces because I can’t imagine a grown guy would want anyone to see him like this. He must be so embarrassed. And I wish he would start the car, because the party is going on and there’s probably lots of people having fun around the pool and I really want to be there.
I finally look over at him and he’s blowing his nose. Maybe that means we’ll get moving again, I’m thinking. Jim doesn’t say anything else but he does finally turn the ignition and the car rumbles to a start.
I’m so relieved. I really want to see what’s happening at the party.
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The sounds you hear are the clicks of people unsubscribing to this blog. I know this is a difficult piece (my own partner advised me not to post it), but since I’ve written about so many challenging aspects of my life — HIV, drug addiction, sexuality — I felt compelled to share this. I’m still unable to judge my own actions or those of others with much clarity. If you are are trying to overcome childhood abuse, please consider contacting the Adult Survivors of Child Abuse (ASCA). — Mark
Tags: Aging, culture, gay, recovery, Sexuality
Posted in Books and Writings, Family and Friends, Gay Life, My Fabulous Disease | 21 Comments »
The Hard Facts on Erectile Dysfunction: Pills, Pumps and Prosthetics
Wednesday, April 6th, 2011
I suppose it was only a matter of time before HIV fitness guru and hottie Nelson Vergel and I ended up in bed together. After rummaging through my kitchen in a video blog about healthy eating, and then flexing his biceps at the gym when he instructed me on weight training, it really was more than he could bear. The man is only human, after all.
Alas, our queen-sized romp which opens this video was clothed, comical, and quite chaste. But it was the perfect place to start a blog about erectile dysfunction (E.D.), testosterone replacement, and how all of this affects people living with HIV/AIDS.
You’re about to get a big education on erections. Well, on the lack thereof, to be precise. The content isn’t porn but it is very adult. If your workplace wasn’t a great place to watch my recent video tour of a poz sex club, then you’ll probably want to catch this one at home, too. Just don’t miss this impotent information. Sorry. Couldn’t resist.
Besides writing his new book, Testosterone: A Man’s Guide, Nelson has gathered an impressive amount of information on what causes E.D., what the treatment options are, and what issues become a factor when you throw HIV into the mix. (I did some research of my own, but all I found was a hilarious candid camera video about an “erection spray†that has immediate, sizable results.)
Every treatment and factoid on E.D. is here: pills, pumps and prosthetics (oh my!). Mostly, though, just hearing Nelson repeatedly say “erectile†in his adorable Venezuelan accent is worth the ten minutes it takes to watch this.
Nelson mentions some great resources and here are some links. His book is available on Amazon, his non-profit is known as PowerUSA and has a web site of its own, and he offers resources on identifying a doctor familiar with testosterone replacement on his web page devoted to the topic.
Nelson is also available to answer your questions on TheBody.com, where he serves as their fitness and nutrition guru in the “Ask the Experts” forum.
As always, thanks for visiting. It will be interesting to see how many of you “share†this link. Will it be more, because it’s a sexy topic, or less, because it’s also an uncomfortable one? We’ll see!
Please be well,
Mark
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I can’t keep the internet’s best-kept secret any longer. I love The Subversive Librarian, a blog of random thoughts from a witty, thoughtful lesbian about everything from getting her car stolen and mindlessly looking for it and if it was simply misplaced (“Often the last five minutes before I leave for work are spent pacing from room to room and back again, trying to find my keys. Maybe the car is in my other coat.“) to raising her teenage daughter. Yeah, she’s a friend. Thank God, or I would deeply resent her gifts for writing with such breezy grace.
According to Dan Savage, I can now call myself a best-selling author. It Gets Better landed on the New York Times best seller list at #15 last week! My brother and I are contributors, since our YouTube video transcript is in the book (and so is our picture — there we are, right next to Ellen Degeneres, in a photo montage in the inside cover). I reviewed the book two weeks ago and remain convinced it is the most important book of the year.
Tags: Aging, aids, gay, hiv, physical, physician, Sexuality
Posted in Books and Writings, Gay Life, Living with HIV/AIDS, My Fabulous Disease | 4 Comments »
My sad and trivial night with Rock Hudson
Tuesday, March 29th, 2011
Perhaps it is the passing of Elizabeth Taylor, and her connection to Rock Hudson, that brings this memory back again. Maybe I want you to know, because I’m still as star-struck and vain as when this happened. Or maybe the memory still brings back fear and melancholy, so repeating it here feels like sharing my favorite ghost story…
Over and over, footage of Rock Hudson standing next to Doris Day was playing on television, and he looked ghastly. His skin was wrinkled and sunken as if by very old age. It was 1985, and it was one of the last close-up images most of us would ever see of the movie icon. And it was terrifying.
My heart was pounding, and I tried to listen to the voice-over, which spoke of the sudden illness of Rock Hudson and speculation that he might have AIDS. Throughout the newscast, memories of a night in 1982, nearly three years earlier, sprang to life. The images taunted me and screamed at me and said gonna getcha gonna getcha gonna getcha …
Charley and I had recently moved to Los Angeles and the city still held such mystery and promise for us. We were excited about spending our anniversary at the gay restaurant New York Company, where you got a candle on your table and mushrooms on your prime rib and they would probably sing to us or bring a special piece of cake.
No sooner had we settled at our table and ordered drinks than Charley started nudging my arm and staring at something behind me. I glanced in that direction, and was stunned to find Rock Hudson seated there, talking with another man.
In our short time in Los Angeles, I had developed the attitude that famous people deserved their privacy and one shouldn’t ogle them. I thought it was cool not to care they were there, even though I was dying to look. In any case, Charley was staring across our table in a gay restaurant directly at Rock Hudson and I wanted him to stop right this minute.
I was definitely jealous, not only of being upstaged by a movie star at my anniversary dinner, but because I wanted to look at him so badly myself, and Charley had the perfect view. So I pestered poor Charley for the next ten minutes about how rude he was and how I couldn’t believe he found the man so fascinating and why couldn’t he pay attention to me on this special night and all sorts of other such lies.
“You men having any fun?”
There was no mistaking the voice, and I looked up from my pouting stance to Charley, who was grinning across our table at the man behind me. “Sure,” Charley managed to say. I turned around and Rock Hudson was smiling at me. I was a star struck boy and there was no hiding it now.
“Yeah, me too,” I said. How completely embarrassing.
“You sure?” he asked, “Because my friend and I were just discussing it, and I was saying that the two of you were having a fight.”
Rock Hudson was discussing me. Rock Hudson was discussing me.
“Uh no, not at all,” I lied, jumping in before Charley had a chance to say what a bitch I was and how I thought you shouldn’t ogle movie stars. “I think we’re just kinda tired. As a matter of fact, today is our anniversary and we’re celebrating.”
“Yeah,” said Charley, “we’re doing fine. How are you tonight?” He was playing along, had forgiven me, and was asking Rock Hudson a question. This was unbelievable.
“It’s really wonderful that you two are having an anniversary. How long have you been together?”
“Three years,” we said in unison.
“That’s just great. Congratulations.” At this point he introduced his friend, who went “way back” and who’s name I couldn’t tell you in a million years, and then he offered an invitation. “Come sit with us, boys. Have a drink. It’s a special occasion.”
I looked at Charley, holding on to my “protect their privacy” stance for a few more seconds, but he had already risen to join them. What the hell. Like I would have refused. I took my spot beside Rock Hudson because I would have broken Charley’s arm if he had tried that seat and he knew it. Another round of drinks appeared, and the star launched into clever stories that I don’t quite remember but were more than fascinating at the time.
The conversation wandered onto Trivial Pursuit, the game which was then new and all the rage.
“Yes, I’ve heard of that,” Rock said. “I haven’t played it yet.”
“We’ve got the game, Rock,” Charley said. “You should really come over some time and we’ll play it with you.” I couldn’t believe what he was saying. He actually called Mr. Rock Hudson “Rock.” Furthermore, my partner had just invited this man “over some time,” like that was really in the realm of possibility.
More drinks arrived. This man can drink like a cow, I thought, and not even show it. He was playful, though, and shot a few looks my way that I would have taken quite differently if it weren’t clear I was celebrating my anniversary with the man to my immediate left.
“It’s a great game,” I found myself saying. “You wanna come over and play it with us?” I was a teensy bit smashed, no doubt about it.
“Yes, I would.”
I’m sure there was more to it, more of a rationale as to why he felt comfortable crashing our anniversary evening, but I don’t remember. His friend kindly begged off of the event, and it was decided that Charley would take his friend home while I rode with Rock so he had no problem finding our apartment. I still will never believe he parked his classy import on Edgewood Avenue, because it made me nervous parking my car there. Once inside, I found a full bottle of Scotch, poured him a drink, and gave him a tour of our tiny apartment until Charley got back.
I was no fool. What we had here was a prescription for something… unseemly. But I was barreling through these bizarre circumstances and wasn’t weighing the specific possibilities. That’s a lie. I was pursuing it because I suspected what was to come.
We played the game for a couple of hours, Rock winning and drinking. Before it was over the Scotch would be history and I would offer to roll a joint. “Pot makes me horny,” he said, “so I don’t know if I should…” and of course I was passing him the joint faster than you could say Star Fucker.
He talked about movies. And sex. And people he loved and hated. The juiciest tales began with “I was really drunk one night when” and the meanest had to do with people he thought had treated him badly professionally (“You need Julie Andrews like you need a knife in your back,” said he).
Charley had taken it all in, but knew when enough was enough. He excused himself quite late to go to bed, Rock offered to go, I wouldn’t hear of it, and we continued sitting in the dining room passing the joint.
I knew what was being played out. Questions floated about in the back balcony of my head, just within earshot. What kind of guy was I? Was I going to have sex with this man right here in the living room? What about my anniversary? What about the man I loved asleep in the bedroom? Was Rock Hudson as well hung as everyone said? Some questions got my attention more than others.
Rock made motions for the umpteenth time that it was time to go home, so while he whispered another insincere goodnight, I drunkenly opened the pants of Mr. Rock Hudson. The fact that this was a famous escapade had overruled the anniversary etiquette issues.
Thirty minutes or so later, I stood in my robe outside the bathroom, wondering what Rock Hudson thought about the rust stained bathtub in which he was quickly showering. The sex had been in near dark, and without the pretext of romance — no tender caresses or meaningful glances.
I can remember only one direct look from the man. I stared down upon his face after the exhaustion of labored sex — too much bourbon, too much pot — and my eyes tried adjusting to his face in the dark. And then there it was, staring back at me, with a surprisingly impatient look. Stern and almost elderly.
“Are you done?” he asked blankly.
Well, life ain’t the damned movies, I suppose.
I would make small talk with him as he toweled dry and dressed, and then me, in a final act of staking my claim, asking for his autograph. Yes, so help me, I asked the damp, drunk and spent star to scribble “All my best, Rock Hudson” on a piece of notebook paper before his hasty exit down the duplex stairs and out to the dingy street below.
I watched the car pull away and walked slowly back to the bedroom, where Charley was sound asleep and snoring. I laid down in the dark and the night replayed in my mind. Was I triumphant? Excited, thrilled, guilty? I had just bedded the ultimate male screen icon of a generation, and I hadn’t the slightest idea how to feel about it.
Rock Hudson was now a ghastly figure on a television screen in my living room. My heart raced every time the evening news began and some new tidbit of information about his disease, his sex life, his kiss with Linda Evans on “Dynasty,” his lovers and his drug treatments were reported with morbid tones and oh-my-God urgency.
I had not yet been tested for HIV. In 1985, what was the point? There were no known effective treatments, the first drug treatment, AZT, was just being introduced and people with AIDS were dropping like flies. It was politically incorrect to get tested because it could lead to discrimination, brand you as terminal and assure you that every pathetic image of a dying AIDS patient applied directly to you.
And that is exactly what the Rock Hudson coverage was doing to me, test or no test. Magazines and Dan Rather news stories were talking to me specifically. ROCK HUDSON HAS AIDS, the headlines screamed, AND MARK KING WILL DIE AS WELL.
“Rock Hudson is now resting in his Los Angeles home beyond a doctors care,” reported Mary Hart on Entertainment Tonight, “and Mark, you’re an idiot if you think you can escape this now. You’re dead as a door nail, buddy. What were you thinking?”
I would stare at the coverage without a word, and nod my head at parties when someone said how tragic it was and excuse myself.
My parents had been told the censored version of the anniversary night story that very next day, and called me in Los Angeles shortly after Rock was reported ill. “Why not go down to the hospital?” my father asked. “You could try to cheer him up, maybe bring Trivial Pursuit!” I explained the man had a million fans and wouldn’t remember me, without mentioning how trivial the pursuit had been.
In October of 1985, Rock Hudson died in his home. News reports tortured me for months to come.
(Edited from A Place Like This, by Mark S. King. Copyright 2008.)
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Julie Turkewitz from Housing Works has a blog posting about the new Broadway smash “The Book of Mormon.” Produced by the sly, irreverent wits behind both South Park and Avenue Q, it walks the thin line between hilarious and heretical. Meaning, I can’t wait to see it — and it actually manages to educate its audience about AIDS in Uganda!
A group is conducting a simple survey about over-the-counter HIV testing kits. It’s simple to participate and only takes a few minutes, by visiting this link at Who’s Positive.
The AIDS Drug Assistance Program (ADAP) crisis continues, with waiting lists growing and some of them eliminated altogether. For a sober update on the situation and an appeal to President Obama, I urge you to read this blog posting from the ADAP Advocacy Association.
Who knew that Ft. Walton Beach, Florida had one of the best conferences in the nation for those living with HIV? I know, at least I do now. I was honored to present at the Positive Living conference last month and would recommend it to anyone — well organized, a large group of people living with HIV, and an impressive set of speakers, including Paul Kawata, Sean Strub, Robert Breining and many others.
Tags: A Place Like This, aids, culture, gay, hiv, Sexuality
Posted in Books and Writings, Gay Life, Living with HIV/AIDS, My Fabulous Disease | 13 Comments »
The Book with a Promise: It Gets Better
Tuesday, March 15th, 2011
There were moments while reading It Gets Better, the new book inspired by the YouTube video project to help bullied youth, when my heart leapt to my throat and hovered there. It happened a few times, quite unexpectedly, usually while in the middle of some essay from an author I’d never heard of. In an instant, I found myself fighting back tears over the pain of someone who was once convinced they would never be happy or accepted in this world.
These emotional bombshells are the secret weapon in this collection of essays: moments of aching truth that pierce the sometimes distracting hype associated with the “It Gets Better†project and deliver an emotional wallop.
In case you don’t know (really?), the It Gets Better Project is the brainchild of writer Dan Savage and his partner Terry Miller. In response to a rash of gay teen suicides due to bullying, the couple realized they didn’t “need permission from parents or an invitation from a school†to reach troubled LGBT teens. All they needed was YouTube to talk to them directly, telling kids to hang on, that “it gets better.â€
Months before social media helped topple governments across the globe, this simple idea led a revolution of its own. It reached millions of kids and made The Trevor Project, a crisis hotline for LGBT or questioning youth, a household name. As the YouTube channel exploded, celebrities and elected officials joined the chorus of messages from everyday folks.
And now, the book. It Gets Better: Coming Out, Overcoming Bullying, and Creating a Life Worth Living (released on March 22) is “inspired†by the video project, meaning some of the essays are original written pieces while others are edited transcripts directly from videos. It’s an earnest, uneven, truly inspirational collection, with enough of those heart-in-your-throat moments to keep you reading.
Interestingly, the most famous names in the book have the least impact. Barack Obama, Hillary Clinton, Al Franken, Suze Orman (left), and even Ellen Degeneres are all here, but their pieces feel about as passionate as thumbing through their cue cards. Maybe fame leads to caution.
You’ll have to settle for celebrity twice-removed to tap a wellspring of real emotion. Randy Roberts Potts is the grandson of the late, ultra-homophobic televangelist Oral Roberts, and Randy shares a family secret more salacious than his own homosexuality: his uncle, Ronald David Roberts, was also gay, and he was so despondent after coming out to his famous father that he killed himself with a gunshot to his heart.
Randy’s own story is filled with religious and social trials, but there is victory. “I had to fight hard for it, but it finally happened,†he writes, “the freedom to just be myself.†And then he can’t resist this: “My grandfather was famous for telling people, ‘Something good is going to happen to you!’ And, it’s strange to admit it, but he was right.â€
I still have the voice of lesbian Gabrielle Rivera ringing in my ears. Gabrielle appears on page 45 and not a moment too soon, bursting with truth and anger and passion. “It kind of doesn’t get better,†she proclaims. “…but what happens is this: You get stronger. You learn how to love yourself. You learn that other people are just crazy and caught up in their own crap.â€
I’ve never been more moved by a dinner menu then I was reading the entry of food blogger Adam Roberts, who shares exactly what he prepared the night his parents came for dinner to meet the parents of his partner, Craig. Adam intersperses his coming out story with details of the night’s short rib and polenta, and the care, the sheer detail and love, with which he prepares the meal touched me deeply. By the time he served the flourless chocolate cake I was a complete mess.
Krissy Mahan from upstate New York (why are so many of my favorites from lesbians?) assures her readers that “not all gay people are urban… I’ve been really happy being a big rural dyke.†She loves country living but says “I’m sure there are some things that are kind of frustrating to you, and you’re probably rockin’ the flannel shirt every now and then, but that is going to be totally hot to somebody someday. It’s gonna get real better.â€
And even an actual reformed bully makes an appearance in the book. Joseph Odysseus Mastro is a straight 29-year-old from Oakland, California, and he has a confession to make. During high school, Joseph “was belligerent toward kids I recognized as being in the theater group, screaming ‘Fag! Faggot!’ at them.â€
Beyond apologizing to them, Joseph turned to community service. At 19, he began handing out condoms and lube outside gay clubs on behalf of an AIDS agency. “Some of my straight friends would ask ‘why are you helping out the gays?’ which is a reprehensible question in the first place, but I respond that… there are gay men who have HIV, and they’re who I want to help.†Joseph wins the Reformed Bully of the Year Award, hands down.
The real excitement of this book is imagining where it will end up – a public library in South Dakota, the reading room of a youth center on an Air Force base — and how, because we must, we get this book on the shelves on every junior high and high school in the country.
Last year, my (also gay) brother Dick and I sat down at our Mom’s house and turned on the camera. For the next few minutes we traded stories about growing up gay in the same family – about 15 years apart – and even brought out photos from our youth. We teased each other like brothers do, and it was apparent we love one another, because we do.
Our It Gets Better video became a popular entry, and we were honored to be included in this book. There we are on page 300, near the back, in a transcript of our chat that reads like a sassy play with two very gay characters. It is neither the best nor the most moving essay in the book, but it does show an easy love between us, and that alone may be of value to a LGBT youth out there. I couldn’t be more proud.
Like many people who grew up gay and afraid, my soul may have survived those years but I have a few scars left behind. It Gets Better gently strokes these wounds — the toughened and the still-tender ones — so that young people today might take heart and make the journey to adulthood a little more safely.
There’s no denying the power of this project, and what could easily be the most important book of the year.
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Word from the organizers of the annual HIV Cruise Retreat is that there are now more registrants for the November cruise to the Caribbean than ever before! I was honored to be the M.C. for the cruise last year, and honestly I had more fun than I could have imagined (nope, I’m not getting paid to participate or to promote this event). Take a look at the web site for video from last year’s event and consider joining us. It’s a largely gay group with straight allies, but without barriers or attitude, just sincere support and a lot of fun.
Tags: acting, culture, family, gay, gratitude, help others, politics, Sexuality
Posted in Books and Writings, Family and Friends, Gay Life, My Fabulous Disease, News | 4 Comments »
A Very Special One-Year Anniversary Posting!
Tuesday, March 8th, 2011
When Mark first started My Fabulous Disease, I was pretty sure it was going to directly result in the destruction of humanity. One year later, we’re all still here.
I can’t believe I lost that bet.
Myles Helfand, Editor, The Body, The Complete HIV/AIDS Resource
My father always said, “Raise your hand. Ask the stupid questions. Don’t be afraid to make a fool of yourself.†If he isn’t rolling in his grave today, he’s certainly shifting a little, because if there’s one thing I’ve tried to do with my blog it has been to ask basic questions of others — and reveal everything I can of myself. The result has been a really gratifying experience sharing my life as an HIV positive gay man in recovery from addiction.
One year ago, I launched “My Fabulous Disease,†but the site was birthed and nurtured by the talented staff of TheBody.com. I have been contributing to TheBody for more than a decade as a writer, and producing videos for the last several years. For that I am indebted to Bonnie Goldman, the founding editor of The Body, and to the current Community Manager, Olivia Ford.
In this special video episode, I have some fun answering the most frequently asked questions about my videos — and what it has been like exposing myself, figuratively speaking, to all of cyberspace. The bottom line: it has been an honor to reveal, report, and ruminate on life’s challenges and joys as an HIV positive man.
I realize I’m not exactly an expert in the science of HIV or even a lot of the psycho/social issues involved. What I am, though, is curious. So I’ve tried to trust my own instincts and “ask the stupid questions†my Dad was talking about. Whether it was meeting teens at the AIDS conference in Vienna, exercising with fitness expert Nelson Vergel, or interviewing activists at the recent ADAP summit, I let my curiosity guide me.
Sure, I’ve bombed a few times with my videos. It’s been a learning process, and sometimes I misjudged a topic somehow, or just plain create a boring episode. Trust me – or ask anyone at TheBody, because they know how I worry – I keep close tabs on the comments and on the number of hits. And I’m constantly second guessing my choices. As much as I want to trust my instincts alone, I can’t help but want to be popular.
The episodes that mean the most to me have been the ones which were the most personal and didn’t even focus on my HIV (like “Facing Change,†about leaving Atlanta to renew a relationship, or “Taking Care of Hal,†about caring for my dying brother), or the ones that were the most practical and instructive (like “A Facial Wasting Update†about my facial filler process, or helping people select the best physician in “Six Tips for Choosing Your HIV Doctorâ€).
Along the way I have had the honor to meet people working as activists and elected officials and advocates around the world. How can I not be grateful and happy when I meet such smart and dedicated people? I know our HIV/AIDS crisis isn’t rosy and I know people are suffering. I also know without a doubt that we are in committed, loving hands the world over.
Let me leave you with this: we all have a story to tell. It is the story of how HIV/AIDS has affected our lives. Please, my friend, please tell it. Write an article or speak out on World AIDS Day. If you’re more private, maybe you could just explain to a nephew what it was like when you once lost a friend to AIDS. Maybe it is as simple as asking your friends if they have been tested lately, and why it means something important to you.
There are so many people who write me, and they thank me for giving their experience a voice, because they can not speak out. If you are blessed with the opportunity and ability to share your experience, then please join me. There is so much room, so much loving space in this world, for your voice and your story.
You don’t even have to dress in drag when you tell it. It just helps.
Please be well,
Mark
“A year of My Fabulous Disease isn’t nearly enough. You’ve had the courage to address publicly, with your words and videos, the stuff a lot of gay men and people with HIV are accustomed to only thinking about.”
Sean Strub, Founder, POZ Magazine
Your blog provides a limpid stream of good advice and optimism for anyone who stumbles into it. Your take on living with HIV is clearly the only one worth having, because you manage to inspire and annoy exactly the right people.
Gus Cairns, Editor, HIV Treatment Update
Here’s to many more years of Mark’s disarmingly honest, charmingly sincere, frequently bittersweet, and, above all, community empowering video blog.
Edwin J Bernard, journalist and blogger
Happy Birthday to My Fabulous Disease! You’re just what the doctor ordered.
Robert Breining, Founder, POZIAM Social Network
I feel as if My Fabulous Disease is a sister site to “my glamorous HIV” way of life. More importantly, you’ve been able to create much needed dialogue within the community, and provide information with substance. We love you up here in Canada.
Brian Finch, Founder, PositiveLite
Laughter and lightness of heart have made a comeback in my life, thanks to your nutty taste. I have been reminded often that although our common condition is life (and death), it is no longer life OR death.
Rod Rushing, “On The Ten†Treatment Education Network
If Albert Schweitzer and Joan Rivers had a son, it would be you! Healing and outrageous all at once. Keep “curing” us with “My Fabulous Disease.”
Chris Glaser, author, “The Final Deadline: What Death Has Taught Me about Life”
You and your blog are such an inspiration to others whether they are infected with HIV or someone who is still negative. We are also proud to have you as one of our Dab the AIDS Bear’s Ambassadors of Hope!
Dab Garner, Founder, Dab the AIDS Bear Project
Happy Birthday! You are doing such a great job at portraying the face, humor and humanity behind a terrible disease that will continue to proliferate in our community if people like you don’t continue to remind the rest of us that it still exists.
Zack Rosen, Editor, The New Gay
Tags: Aging, aids, barebacking, culture, family, gay, gratitude, help others, hiv, lipo, meth, physical, physician, politics, Radiesse, recovery, Recreation, research, serosorting, Sexuality, testing
Posted in Anita Mann and Acting Gigs, Books and Writings, Family and Friends, Gay Life, Living with HIV/AIDS, Meth and Recovery, My Fabulous Disease, News | 14 Comments »
Touring an HIV+ gay sex club. Plus: the porn stars that got away.
Tuesday, March 1st, 2011
The idea that HIV positive people still want sex is as old as The Denver Principles, the 1983 manifesto drawn up by gay men with AIDS that demanded “as full and satisfying a sexual and emotional life as anyone else.†The document also stated that people with HIV/AIDS have an ethical responsibility to share their status with others.
Fast forward to today, and HIV positive gay men are as open as ever about their status and their sexual preferences (setting aside, if we can for the moment, the increased stigma and discrimination facing HIV positive people of all stripes who disclose their status these days). And those sexual choices may not include HIV negative people at all, thank you very much.
Last year I taped a tour of a sex club that hosts a monthly “Poz4Play†party, and sat down to interview Bill, the party’s disarmingly unflappable host. In this video blog (the video, above, is PG rated but the language is explicit), I revisit the tour and get an update from Bill about the strong reaction to the original video, which includes a frank conversation on barebacking, the risk of other STD’s, and serosorting.
Serosorting, or limiting sexual partners to those who share your HIV status, has become the de facto prevention technique for many gay men with HIV. Research indicates that the tactic may have value in containing the spread of HIV, but as you might guess, it isn’t so effective when it comes to HIV negative gay men who attempt to serosort amongst themselves. People who claim to be negative are often wrong, misinformed or simply lying. HIV positive men who claim to be positive are less likely to be wrong about that fact.
On an important side note: is avoiding HIV enough? Research indicates that poz-on-poz sex is much more likely to include barebacking (unprotected sex), and that means the potential of pitting a sometimes compromised immune system against other sexually transmitted diseases. If the idea of catching gonorrhea simply makes you feel nostalgic, what about (the far more dangerous) Hepatitis C? A recent study found that 75 percent of new hepatitis C virus (HCV) infections in HIV-positive men occurred in those with no history of injection drug use (IDU) – the more typical transmission route for HCV. Barebacking is the suspected culprit.
Everywhere on the gay hook-up radar, positive men are asking, telling, and serosorting. “Disease free, UB2†in online profiles is being countered by the cheeky “HIV positive and plan to stay that way, UB2.†Meeting sites are engaging in some serosorting of their own by offering poz dating and hookup options.
And over at the gay bareback porn company Treasure Island Media (TIM), director Paul Morris has named it “the year of living positive (sic),†with a series of videos featuring openly HIV positive actors. While one might appreciate Mr. Morris’ enthusiastic wish that everyone “fuck freely and without fear,†he’s a little light on the real-life implications of such a lifestyle.
I exchanged e-mails with Paul Morris in an attempt to interview a real-life couple he just re-signed to exclusive bareback video naughtiness. The couple includes an HIV negative top and a positive bottom, and I thought this would be a great opportunity to educate gay men by going “behind the scenes†and speaking to these two actors in a way that focused on their real life and didn’t demonize them.
Paul was complimentary of my blog and confident that his actors would communicate with me if I would e-mail my questions to them. I did so, and my queries included: how big an issue was HIV to them? Did one worry for the other’s long term health? Was the positive partner on meds? How did they handle feeling judged by those who disagreed with their bareback porn star habits?
Note to self: do not attempt to “get real†with bareback porn studs or their handlers. I never heard from the actors, or another peep out of Paul Morris. His silence betrays his grandstanding on the topic (his own press release gleefully refers to him as “universally reviled,†which would look great on his name tag at the next Gay Erotic Expo). Or, perhaps Paul Morris really does know his audience, and figures they’re uninterested in his stars once the DVD is back in the sock drawer.
It’s also possible Treasure Island Media is just distracted with appealing their recent $21,000 fine by California OSHA for, among other things, not developing procedures for things as basic as Hepatitis B vaccinations. Maybe the Oscar winning song is right, and it really is hard out there for a pimp… or for a porn empresario.
Please be well,
Mark
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For another view of gay men, porn and barebacking, check out my most Googled post of last year, “Did the Bareback Time Machine Kill Chad Noel?†It is a melancholy epilogue on the brief life of a gay bareback porn star (right) and what his childhood friends remember about him most.
One of my favorite HIV sites, LifeLube, has started an ongoing series called “Andrew’s Anus,” and it’s about sexual health for gay men and the human papillomavirus, or HPV. But wait! The series is written from the point of view of Andrew’s anus! It’s fun and witty and has great information and I hope you’ll check it out.
There’s a lot in the news about marketing the female condom to gay men. If you’d like a frank demonstration on using the appliance for anal sex, check out my video from AIDS2010 in Vienna with Wendy of The Pleasure Project (right). She leaves no question unanswered, and trust me, I ask them all. Our interview begins at the 4:05 mark.
Mike Barr has returned to the pages of POZ Magazine, or at least to their web site, as a blogger on the topic of Traditional Chinese Medicine and HIV/AIDS. His knowledge on HIV treatment is stellar, so if you have any interest in eastern approaches, his blog would be an excellent start.
Tags: aids, barebacking, culture, gay, hiv, research, serosorting, Sexuality, testing
Posted in Gay Life, Living with HIV/AIDS, My Fabulous Disease, Prevention and Policy | 12 Comments »
My Fabulous Disease: The Top Ten Postings of Year One
Tuesday, February 22nd, 2011
“The suspense is terrible. I hope it will last.”
– Oscar Wilde, The Importance of Being Ernest
How was this judged, exactly? I was afraid you might ask. Not on the number of hits or any formal voting procedure. I relied purely on feedback received through the year and from posted comments, but mostly, umm, I picked my favorites. So there.
presented in reverse order
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#10. The Wisdom of Youth at AIDS2010. My skills (and physical stamina) were sorely tested when TheBody.com sent me to Vienna for the 2010 International AIDS Conference. Every day was a sprint around the massive conference center in search of stories that inspired or amused me. In this episode, I was blown away by a collection of teenage (!) activists from around the globe who gave a press conference and then chatted with me (try being nineteen and an HIV advocate in Afghanistan). Then I interviewed an actual muppet with No Strings, a program that uses puppetry to communicate with African children about AIDS, transmission, and grief. Awesome.
#9. The Real Poz Guys of Atlanta. Nothing has been more important to my long term sanity and well-being than the support of friends, so I decided to let you meet a few of them in this ongoing series of videos. In this, our second get together, my friends Craig, James, Antron and Eric and I (all of us are living with HIV) bake brownies — recipe included in the post! — and dish about our HIV, doctors, families and love lives. To top it off we all engage in some surprisingly moving “show ‘n tell,” by bringing things to our dinner that represent something about life with HIV. If you need to feel the love of friends right now, check this out.
#8. Locker 32, your room is ready… to be hosed and sanitized. Okay, so here’s my bawdy comedy side, in a farewell essay to the gay baths. In my former, youthful and/or drug fueled days, I was a staple in such establishments, and the value of how one looked sauntering about in a towel was a misguided priority that, frankly, I’m still working to shake from my world view. But there’s no such depth in this funny essay, just a final look at the baths on my very last visit, or as the piece begins, “the last time I went to the baths… I stepped in poop.” Hold your nose, and enjoy!
#7. The Price is Right, thirty years after coming on down. “When I was 19 years old, I vacationed to Los Angeles and won a car on The Price is Right.” So begins my book “A Place Like This,” my first-person account of my years in Hollywood in the 1980′s. I use the game show story to reflect on the young man I was and what dreams I had, while AIDS looms in the near distance ready to wreck the plans of a generation. I’ve always liked this as its own essay, though, and thought it would be fun to include the actual footage of my winning the car, so the reader can watch the little story come to life.
#6. My T-cells Could Use a Facelift. I’ve probably posted the heart and soul right out of this poor video, using it more than once this year, but it remains a favorite of mine because it strikes the heart of my issues as a gay man, a man with HIV, and an aging one at that. We’re the guys that can still remember being youthful but we just don’t quite hack it in the cruise clubs anymore. I know I shouldn’t miss it, and yet… The video also lets me show off my butt pads and discuss my not-so-subtle tactics to avoid growing up. Maturity is hard won in my household, my friends.
#5. A Facial Wasting Update. This is when I realized the real potential of my little digital camera: when Dr. Gerald Pierone agreed to let me film our consultation about my facial wasting (lipoatrophy), and the procedure to remedy it. This episode is actually our second video together, when I returned for a follow-up treatment — it reviews footage from the first visit but also gives a more accurate look at the treatment results. At the end of the first episode, I was so pleased with my new face that I shot my closing with such bright light I looked like I was voguing in a Madonna video. I don’t make that mistake again.
#4. I am the man my father built. Why are there passages in our life that we return to, again and again, those milestones that shape us and serve as references points our entire lives? Camping in the woods would seem an unmemorable scenario for a young gay boy like me (behold my pubescent self, right, in repose). Dad wasn’t trying to butch me up, he simply reveled in being different, like pitching a clear plastic tent when all the other fathers and sons on the campout had normal ones. But every time dad instilled in me the value of being different (“that’s the beauty of it,” was his most common exclamation), he was preparing his son for the world in a way he never imagined. A love letter to my dad, and I hope you’ll read it.
#3. Examining death, including the one I caused. To be honest, I thought I was doing my ex-partner Chris Glaser a favor by reviewing his most recent book. But that blithe arrogance evaporated when I read his elegant book about death, “The Final Deadline.” Chris devotes chapters to manners of death and their lessons for the living, and to my surprise includes one about the death of our relationship and there, suddenly and in black and white, was the wreckage of a romance, and the crushing hurt I had caused when I chose my escalating drug addiction over my partner. Reading this book would enlighten anyone, but no one more than me. Chris’ capacity for forgiveness and finding teachable moments is more beautifully rendered in his book than anything I might conjure.
#2. Once, When We Were Heroes. Another one I’ve posted to death — the video version has been on my main page for ages — but it’s as if I’m afraid I’ll never write something quite like it again. It sprang from my observations about so many of us that lived through the horror of the 1980′s and how mundane our lives are today. So many of us were called upon to do courageous things, or withstand terrible grief, and today we’re shopping at Macy’s and planning brunch. Which is a miracle and perfectly allowed, of course. It just makes me realize that you can never know what the man on the treadmill at the gym might have once withstood, or how resilient our own spirits are, when we once thought they might never survive.
#1. The Day Larry Kramer Dissed Me. Pure whimsy, no doubt about it, and the funniest part of this fictional account of a disastrous trip to the mall with Larry Kramer was how many people didn’t know I made the damn thing up. Not until they read the footnote. Reactions were all over the place: how dare I ridicule an icon, they wanted to know. I would be dead if it were not for him, they wailed. And “this is hilarious, please do HRC next!” I have not had the honor of meeting Larry Kramer but idolize him as an activist and as a writer. And if my “six degrees of Larry Kramer” friends are telling the truth, the man himself got the joke and liked it (and even left a posted comment for all to see).
Honorable mentions: My provocative chat with activist and POZ Magazine founder Sean Strub, “Five Things About HIV They’re Not Telling You,” had prevention advocates either impressed or aghast, and that’s a good thing. My favorite little video was the Gay Pride PSA That Will Never Air, which begins with funny stories before it punches you in the gut with a message about drug addiction. And speaking of addiction, there’s a precious vision of recovery is in the simple essay “A Dance to an Atlanta Night,” in which I enjoy some simple pleasures with friends who have seen me at my worst.
I feel like I’m hitting my stride. Thanks to all of you for your words of encouragement, and I mean that. This has been an awesome adventure because of you. As always, please be well.
Mark
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I hope you will consider “sharing” this via the buttons below with anyone who might enjoy an introduction to the blog. I love reaching new readers. Thanks.
Tags: A Place Like This, acting, Aging, aids, barebacking, culture, drag, family, gay, help others, hiv, lipo, meth, physician, politics, recovery, Recreation, serosorting, Sexuality
Posted in All Other Video Postings, Books and Writings, Family and Friends, Gay Life, Living with HIV/AIDS, Meth and Recovery, My Fabulous Disease, News, Prevention and Policy | 2 Comments »