No one is healed and no one fully conquers their demons. The fact that the filmmakers make you root for them is a testament to a vexing main character you grow to love and admire.


No one is healed and no one fully conquers their demons. The fact that the filmmakers make you root for them is a testament to a vexing main character you grow to love and admire.

The film is either a transgressive act of eroticism, or an act that demonstrates how to become infected with HIV. Or perhaps both.

One can easily connect the dots between the activists shown in the Oscar nominated documentary “How to Survive a Plague” and these treatment advocates trying to take HIV research across the finish line.
I was knocked out by these people and their daily courage and fortitude. I really want to thank this group for taking me into their homes and lives and allowing me to share their stories with you.

What, then, is the responsibility of LGBT media in this climate of rising infection rates and a bored readership? Do they have a responsibility to serve as advocates for better public awareness?

My conundrum: exploring the pleasures of my tush while fighting the terror that something stinky might be going on down there. I suspect I am not alone in this anxiety.

When legendary AIDS treatment activist Spencer Cox died on December 18, 2012, the cause of death was AIDS-related complications, which is understandable if post-traumatic stress, despair, and drug addiction are complications related to AIDS.

All of the six video blogs produced by “My Fabulous Disease” during AIDS2012 (the international AIDS conference) in Washington, DC, July 21-27, 2012.

In this farewell video posting, I pay tribute to the people on the front lines who are the very essence of this conference. They are the ones with the “star power,” and they fill me with renewed commitment and energy that might possibly last until AIDS2014 in Melbourne, Australia.
The image in my mind has never left me, even after many years of trying, of applying layers of wallpaper to that corner of my mind. I am in someone’s bedroom -- it could have been anyone, really -- and I am offered a syringe to inject crystal meth. The syringe has...

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