From The Ashes ...

Current Body Temperature: 99.5

I just went down to the Korean's at 2:15 am to fetch a fresh bottle of Canada Dry Lemon/lime soda. I had a bit at home but as I began to construct my night time Stoli/soda(s) I remembered that it was starting to flatten last night. And I really, really wanted a fresh, crisp bubbly cocktail to relax and blog with. So then the question was: "Enough to throw a coat on over my jammies and tramp down five flights of stairs in my ultra-suede bedroom slippers?" To which I answered "Oh hell, yes." Indulgent hedonist or problem drinker? You decide.

I received the following e-mail from The Ex today. He had spent the weekend with "friends" in Philadelphia. I didn't edit it except where The Ex's grammar school English skills make it unreadable. I also left the names in as you don't know any of these people. Except of course for Gerald. The true identity of one "Al Caholic". By the way, The Ex is the only one besides my aunts and cousins who still call me Tommy. I like it from him.


Tommy

1st things 1st, how are you feeling? Was it the flu? How was work?

I will never help Gerald again. Not that this was his fault, but every time I suggest something to Gerald, (move to NY, go with me to Philly), it turns out to be a disaster!! He showed up to Michaels work, and he said he was drunk. I don't know if he was. Later Michael got super drunk, and told off Gerald and threw shoes at him. After that incident I didn't want to be around McParlin any more. He's too vicious. He totally flipped out on Gerald and was really nasty. I finally grabbed Gerald and left Michaels house. I was pissed, and Gerald was a mess, (not drunk, but very very upset). We had to find a cab, go back into the city and I had to pay for a hotel room. I felt responsible for Gerald and I didn't want him sleeping on the street. I would have gone home the next day, but I didn't want to leave Jay alone with Michael. The next day we got up, I gave Gerald 20.00, bought him breakfast and sent him on his way. I went back to Michael's and when I got there at 2 pm, both him and Jay were drinking already. I sat there and watched them both drink all day long. A beautiful day and I sat there and watched them drink. Sunday was nice, we went sight seeing.

Michael just called me while I was doing this e-mail. Apparently Gerald called him last night and this morning. He's going to sue him and the restaurant for 1,000,000. I felt like a guard at an insane prison, and they took control of me and the cell. Jay was ok, but he gets soooooo looped on those drugs he's taking, it's scary. Gerald has like no self-esteem left and this didn't help. His boyfriend got on the phone last night and was really upset. Not at me but the whole situation.

I should know better than to be around Michael. I haven't hung out with him since I went to London over a year ago, and I swore then that I would never see him again.

The only saving grace is the fact that when I got back to the house that Michael was all cut up. Apparently he fell down the stairs. That drunk is going to kill himself by those stairs. He deserved it though.

Now, how cute is The Ex that he keeps taking friends back regardless of the abominable behavior they exhibit in the past. He really is a loyal friend. We had to physically remove Gerald from our apartment and change the locks to get him out and still, there The Ex is taking him away for the weekend and totally taking care of him when things go sour (as they always do). His friend Jay is an HIV+ ex-boyfriend living in North Carolina. Apparently, services for PWA/HIV+ people is bordering on murderous and Jay is having an awful time getting doctor appointments, prescriptions filled, or even phone calls answered. They are trying to foreclose on his house. (Ya gotta love those Red states, such compassion!) Having said that, from The Ex's description of his last visit with Jay he basically sits around the house smoking cigarette after cigarette (full ashtrays and dog shit in every room) until he cracks open the first bottle of Seagram's 7 sometime between noon and 3 pm. At which point it's a race to the incoherent, stumbling, bed-wetting finish line (I remember it well). He has thrush down his entire esophagus, he has mouth sores, his teeth are rotting. When he attempts to eat solid food it inevitably comes out of one of two holes. I tried to be blunt with The Ex:

"Jay is killing himself. But he's a total pussy so he's doing it slowly."

He heard me, he just didn't want to so he didn't.

The thing is, as much as I admire and marvel at The Ex's ability to forgive his friends no matter how horribly they behave, at what point is enough, enough? This man Michael didn't just hang out with The Ex in London. The Ex scored him a free flight and air fare. At which point Michael spent every night picking meaningless drunken fights with The Ex to the point where, in his own words, he vows to "never see him again".

And how do you explain that for every gay man that (tries to) take an HIV+ diagnosis as a signal to make whatever life (hopefully a considerable one) you have left to be happy, rewarding, and fulfilling, you have another who passively allows the virus to consume him and worse, accelerates the process by taking no responsibility for your health, your healthcare, in short, your life. Get up and fight, faggot! It's what we do.

On a related but side note. A public message to my internet pal Ryan, and the first HIV+ person to contact me via e-mail after my blog went up. I feel you. I was there for a while this year. At some point I re-remembered what I thought I had already internalized. I'm discovering that life on a daily basis can knock you off-center spiritually if you let it. It just sort of happens and it's not important. What is important is your ability to bore back down to the core facts. We have a potentially fatal disease coursing though our bloodstreams that 20 yrs. ago probably would have left us for dead. We're not dead. And while all is possible, if we don't actively try to push the envelope on dead it's not a major concern. Live. Enjoy. Challenge yourself. Face a fear. As you're walking down a city street surrounded by people shopping, eating, laughing, talking on a phone, bumping into you, remind yourself: Technically, I'm not supposed to be here. But I am. It works for me. I hope you feel better.