The man who saw tomorrow part 7

We walked together until we found a spot on the edge of the lawn;we stood around and chatted about various things as the band began to play. After a few tunes I began to get the urge to move around the entire complex to "see" the sights. "I will see you guys later" and then I reminded them that I will probably go to the van after the show if we are separated. The urge to see more and to find something, anything...ton fill the void still haunted me: was I right to still follow my heart?

AS I began to explore the grounds the acid began to work its "magic"; the music and its message became even more profound. The white rabbit prop used by the band onstage, representing the "myth" of the seeing world, the "matrix" if you will that captures the senses of everyman, sung succinctly in the song "Working Man", was especially poignant: down the rabbit hole went Alice following that rascally rabbit...

As I saw this unfold before my eyes I felt that all of this was being lost on many in the crowd; the music and the images onstage were playful images at best diversions at their worst instead of reinforcing images used to portray a message to the audience. I felt that this separation between artist and observer was in part a result of the structure itself; the event, the venue too were part of this feeling of disconnect, or "Satan" if you will. Well the songs kept coming; some giving me a reason to dance others to find a spot to sit and observe myself in relation to the world at play. This interplay of emotions, ideas and actions continued throughout the show. I had much on my mind and thankfully was able to loose myself during their brilliant performance. And as the nighttime fog descended upon the Amphitheater the band made its climactic conclusion to the utter delight of the fans. I had found this finale alongside a nicely manicured tree on the edge of the lawn. "What a show" I yelled, as they finished, clapping in unison with the thousands who shared my appreciation at this unforgettable performance.

Well knowing it was impossible to find Jorge and Dave after the show, I headed out towards the many exits that lead to the parking lot. Having spent my youth attending weekly home game at RFK stadium in DC , it was very simple to trace my steps through the thousands of fans towards Jorge's van.
Though, when I arrived I found a unfamiliar face waiting with them at the bus. Jorge with his customary smile on his face greeted me and asked: "man, how was it for you?" To which I replied, "amazing". Dave stood smiling with the young guy who stood with a drink in his hand and was talking about "Rush".
I joined them, smiling, realizing that Dave had no real interest in the conversation circumstances had brought with this young guy; and as I entered Dave used this opportunity to let me take his place.

His conversation goes from Rush to Iraq; he proudly proclaims that he is going to Kuwait to help them out after Saddam. Dave stays away chatting with Jorge but looks over to see my face as they guys continues to mimic the mainstream propaganda used to justify the war. I just listened in amazement not letting on of my activist past nor of our collective contempt for the war and especially for those in power who had contrived this modern day killing field for geopolitical reasons. He and I were not many years apart in age but "ages" in our understanding of the real world.

Ironically he fulfilled my earlier perceptions from inside the theater: he was the "working man" and tragically did not know it!
I hid my sick smile and slowly walked away, thinking: it was all sound to him...
Jorge had taken my place as I made my way around the van; thankfully the conversation had changed as we then began to debate the merits of leaving because the "lot was thinning out." We exchange the type of "good byes" one usually does with a person who enters your life on such occasions; cordial though lacking in sincerity, similar to the type you experience at parties with someone very nice who you swear you will contact "real soon" but you understand that this was probably all you will ever want to see of that person...

On the ride back to town, I was a geyser of words and images gleaned from our time at Shoreline; triggered by the boy who we had just left in the lot. "Clueless" I laughed from the back of the van; both Dave and Jorge took turns smiling and laughing mostly at me from their front seats. "What could we say...he would not listen anyway..." I remember saying as the bus motored north on 101.

Art can change ones impression only if the one is RECEPTIVE!

We arrived back in San Francisco at 11:30-12am; I had even more on my mind after the night I had just experienced. And as I had done so many times before I took off walking, in search, on the streets of San Francisco. I crisscrossed the town walking through many of the neighborhoods I had discovered so well over the years. But this time I had the feeling that this was going to be one of my last journeys. As I passed from neighborhood to hood I saw many of the things I loved about my adopted town. one of those opportunities was for sex; unlike DC, San Francisco liked me, and usually when I was out in the city I had a choice to satisfy my angst or frustration with many encounters. Though as with the many previous chances I passed; my heart was what guides me and not just my penis. When I settle for sex and not love and companionship I usually receive none of the latter and inconsistent with the former. Though on a few occasions I did get lucky and found GREAT but fleeting sex!

But tonight I needed to be free of any material diversions, and on a journey that I was on that was what sex would be...a diversion. So I walked, sat, and thought about life and all I had seen in the weeks since that night at the space; trying to understand where life was about to take me; what I was about to do. I still had the feeling that there was more for me to "see".

The walk was providing me insight but also the opportunity to burn away the affect of the drugs. As my mind was being freed I craved the awareness and the insight that it had initially shown me. I felt that more awaited me that night; I knew that as I dared to venture forward more was to be awakened in me...

As I returned to Sanchez st. I still had an urge, as if the finale was at hand; I walked and climbed the dark stairs to the second floor flat. Dave and Jorge were still up talking and I decided to go back out and get some orange juice cuz I needed some Vitamin C. So I stepped outside and began to walk up 18Th street to a grocery store 2 blocks above Castro, seven blocks in all...
"Man can I use that juice", I thought as I walked into the store only to be repelled by its bright lights.

"ARGH!!"

I felt like the vampire Lestat in horror at the rise of the morning sun.
So as to not to continue in the store's "light-mare", I quickly exit for 18Th street and the darkness found on the walk back to the house, and a glass of water waiting there. Along the way I decided to snatch a copy of the Wall Street Journal and get a read of the business journal and its take on world affairs. It being a mouthpiece of fiance capital it provides needed information to an audience that demands as much "truth" the establishment will afford. So I decided to sit outside the house, underneath a large light that overhung the sidewalk. Here I was able to read at my convenience even at 4 am. To my surprise the front page contained a story that Olympia and York, the largest real estate company in the world was going bankrupt in building a new city of the river Thames, in London. This "crisis" instinctively spoke to me: if they went bankrupt then this portended grave things for our future...

Their debts were not to be repaid just refinanced through borrowing: debt upon debt!

"A crash was coming" I thought, knowing instinctively that this could not be sustained. Then I turned my head from the paper and looked up Sanchez and was presented with a vision: crisis leading to wars and then collapse was a result for our realm!
"Wow, I had been given a whopper of a vision from my god; also it meant that I had to put my full faith in me because who else was to believe in this reality, so I had too. Faith in me and what could be!

I was have been sober to this "reality" since that early June 1 morning; I have had to live "apocalypse" EVERYDAY since...imagine just imagine how my life has been.
So I slept maybe 4 hours got up and made my way to the workspace, found Adam Gerics and buried the hatchet(until 1996). It was the first step of me getting my house in order, allowing me to make my way to this time in history.

I returned home to DC by April of 1993 and began to build a community of change here inside Capital city. The shit I have had to put up with here has been so frustrating; many people especially the new "activist" are most frustrating because they are arrogant AND fucking clueless!!!!

But to be fair after you have seen the future, now the present, that can be said for EVERYONE!!!

My work has been termed the "phoenix project", and my art is practicing the "genesis effect". Both I have seen work successfully and in many cases for people who still do realize its affect.
I believe in building a new world today as I have done ever since that fateful morning. Do not waist your time "protesting" the acts of darkness that are increasing daily but create the post world now while you are able too. They cannot do anything without your acquiescence; the more who leave their influence the smaller the "crash" will be: conceivably it will just be Obama, Bush and the small groups they represent. The rest of us will be living and building our new world as WE desire it to be!

THE CHOICE IS YOURS!!

Part 6

I remember those days as being, for the most part, oh so quiet, except for the wailing of the two female cats in heat: Shalom and Miss Kitty. "Wrow, Wrow, Wrow" echoed throughout the house, as the winds blew through the open door...wind chimes ringing as an alarm to its arrival. It reminded me daily that serenity is the handmaiden of sorrow; in their case it was the sorrow of not having some cat cock to quench nature's demands.

Ironic because in my own way I was being tormented for similar reasons; though theirs was to last only as long as the season would allow if they were unlucky enough to not receive their just desires; desires that were being matched by the males fighting in the alleys. As if the fighting was a result for their cries of passion fueling the combatants whom all wanted the chance to satisfy the desires of those whom cried for them; the siren wails of females such as our own, spurred them to battle until there desires too were met.

Amazingly, mine was not to be cured so easily; I was to lament my loss, in both physical and spiritual terms; my feelings were to haunt me until I could forget them long enough to fill my life with another spirit that was to occupy my time. I sat, walked, read, and hoped for a intervention because until I could not move past what haunted me, I was to be a drift, rudderless without direction, all alone without direction; hoping for a sign.

Lucky for me my god does listen to my cries; lucky for me my friends do too...

Jorge's favorite band "Rush" was coming to the Shoreline amphitheater; located 35 miles south of San Francisco it was a popular place to see shows. This opportunity to see a concert was something that I really needed; seeing that I already knew of their music--and liked it--I was excited at the opportunity to get out of San Francisco, party with friends and most of all forget the past and the emptiness I had created.

Having Dave along was rare treat too. Dave Immamoto was a strong willed and hard living man from LA. He was a man who could really push my buttons; and because of this and his past relationship with his former love and my friend Anya always put him close to my heart as well...
Anya was a fiery Irish lass from Galway and they were as tempestuous a couple I was to ever meet. I envied the passion they lived; one night they got into it down at Civic Centre and Dave implored me to keep her away from him cuz she was going to slug him and he did not want to have to defend himself.

So "San Francisco", man...so wrong in so many ways but oh so RIGHT!!

I swear I have not had a relationship in 14 years back here in DC anything close to the ones I experienced in SF; people here in my hometown are too damn COWARDLY to live as passionately...to damn political, for PASSION!

Anyway...

Having Dave along was great because like me he was cool with "Rush" but not a convert like Jorge . Neither of us had seen the show; virgin's to the experience we both were in for a musical baptism.
So Sunday 5:30 pm May 31, we gathered out front of the house on 18Th st. and Sanchez, which sat at the foot of the hill that Sanchez st. rose upon. Which sat his VW microbus in a great hiding space he seemingly always found.
"Upward", I thought; it was to be a good climb, an appropriate beginning for this unforgettable night.

The march was steep but manageable for me because over the nearly three years I lived there I had climbed nearly every hill in that damn city. It was a needed climb because I had some nervous vibes that I could not shake throughout the day; usually I got them when I was about to leave the city. Sort of like the ones you may get when knowing you have to leave a comfortable sofa or room to go out for any reason...just the change of place from "known"to "unknown" I guess.
Moreover, the city for gay men (I know it was for me) is always such a secure environment; here I had learned to walk the streets confidently, looking life right in the eyes. Here I had discovered the courage to finally love "me".
I knew this trip would be good because of that feeling of "comfort" that made SF so great; I needed to rediscover life outside my cocoon; I needed to see what awaited me and it was to start tonight.


When we arrived at the VW, Dave and I stood together and briefly discussed the upcoming show; Dave and I arrogantly chuckled about being "two former punk rockers" gong to the suburbs to "rock" with Rush. "Let's go guys" said Jorge who had been busy arranging his belongings inside the bus; "it is going to be too-cool" said Jorge in his accentuated Chilean-German dialect. I meekly returned the smile, trying to feel good about the trip; I jumped in as Dave took the passenger seat in the front.
The trip south, was as mellow as the "Greatful Dead's" "Truckin" which grooved from his stereo as we headed down highway 101. And appropriately, the farther we drove, the memory of the places and people we had left behind faded too...
Happily the only time I engaged the guys in front was on maybe two occasions when they touched upon world affairs; it being an election year and especially after the riots it seemed the conditions of events brought themselves into daily conversation...even on a day such as this.
Well, we arrived comfortably at 6:15-30 or so with the lot filling but not so much so that it would make parking and subsequent tailgating a chore. After paying the fare, Jorge made a left, then a right, drove a bit and then drifted maybe 11 rows down where we could sit alone at the edge of the other cars... in a half filled lot.

We looked at each other knowing we had arrived and began to chat about how fortunate the trip was and also the lot not being overwhelmed with people. Then Jorge started searching inside his bag for some pregame "tailgating", which even Dave partook. His choice was usually for a cold beverage or two but even today he passed the medicinal herb too. "15 minutes to showtime" said Jorge as he checked his watch; then he passed out tickets and "hits" to Dave and myself.

"Great", I thought as I opened the door to the back of the bus, FINALLY getting siked for the show. We all gathered out front and memorized the location of the van, and also watched the movement of people towards the amphitheater. Sensing it's time, we begin to follow, knowing that the time to gather had arrived.

"This is gonna be too-cool" he said with the biggest smile on his face as if he knew what was to happen inside. This time I smiled in earnest adding: 'great, I need it'. The gates moved fast, we enter faster as the instruments in the distance begin to purr and humm...

Saw tomorrow: part 5

The meeting started as it always did: two moderators took their place in front, beside a large paper script that documented today's agenda. The items and details were also reproduced and handed out on paper to everyone attending the meeting. I took up a seat neatly off to the side but very close to the front; I did not feel comfortable being to out but I knew at this stage in the "game" I had no business hiding from this occasion. As I scanned the agenda I noticed a special section where the group was to talk about people "living" in the space; I was not surprise at the topic.

"Oh shit" I thought as I began to think about how much detail I might have to bring to light in defense of my actions from last week. Though since I had discussed the item earlier with Virginia, who had told me it was to be added and discussed because of the previous events . Also I was to learn one other person had interest in living their too.
It was positioned as the first agenda item on the list after the customary introductions and business was out of the way. A relatively new member had needed to spend time in the space due to his housing "instability". This gave the moderators the chance to revisit all the happenings from last week; the topic for discussion was formed around not letting members use the space outside of meetings pertaining to activism.

(Ironic because homelessness is a chronic cause of immune deficiency)

I sat and listened to many of the voices speak in support of supporting the ban; moreover, many of these people were using the timing of this issue to vulture Adam and to a lesser degree myself. Many of them were rarely seen and if so heard at general body meetings. But I have learned over the years vermin of all sorts come out to feast whenever blood is in the water.

And Adam Gerics WAS their favorite dish...

I sat and listened as many "friendly" members began to add their scorn on those who need a space to live; demanding action against us for using it without permission. Though we had been squatting there for months.
Adam sat in silence as hands continued to rise.
Ironically I began to become angered at their disrespect and raised my hand to speak: we did much at the space daily to provide outreach to the neighborhood and activism full time when many of you were no where to be found; he/I can be asked to leave the space but not condemned for the work done daily in behalf of ACTUP...

The feeding frenzy was stopped; I did not come to bury him...I came to finish my work as an AIDS activist. The group then decided(unfortunately) to not let anyone use the space for housing; we then returned to the customary list of weekly business. I do not remember if I said much of anything else as the meeting ended rather pedestrian. We all made our way out of the space with me making a short visit with the many faces that were and still are if I found them today very dear to my heart. A quick hug and "thank you" was mostly said as I gradually made my way to the exit onto Hayes st. I looked back and saw Adam standing inside talking to Brenda and thought of how different this night had ended from the many others. We would be folding chairs and stacking them in the corner glad that it was over and gossiping about the events that had unfolded...

As I turned and walked back to Sanchez I was not sure if that was my last ACTUP meeting or not but I did know that if it was, it was one I would never forget.
I took the occasion to stay away for the next two weeks;I choose instead the solitude of the porch and hoped to be given a sign of a new direction; a beacon to guide my life. That "light" was to arrive, early morning June 1.

After a day and night I shall never forget...

Saw Tomorrow: part 4

16Th and Sanchez, four blocks from the Castro and three blocks from Mission Delores High School. The house sat first on the south side of the block; the door opened to a staircase that rose to a very pedestrian flat; the type found in numerous homes across the city. Here i would spend the next 3 weeks sitting alone on the porch, listening to the cats "meow" and the wind chimes dangle and clang; I felt as alone as I had ever felt in my life.

The flat was home to Jorge, Jimmy and Barrett, though the home belonged to Shoshanna. She and Jorge had met and married during their "Grateful Dead" years; though not together he still was her husband and while she stayed in Bolinas he when not living in his van would take up residence inside the room at the front of the house that overlooked Sanchez. Though a marriage of some convenience, each had moved to a point that only demanded they be present in the others life when circumstances dictated. And like and convenience its context and proximity changed as circumstances dictated; usually when Shoshanna needed to come home to live in her house. And when she did decide to return from Bolinas the entire atmosphere of the flat would be realigned: similar to when your mom comes to visit you after a long absence...

Fortunately for me she was in her Bolinas cycle; blessed by the gods I was able to lick my wounds in seclusion seeing only Jorge and occasionally Jimmy. I did much soul searching on that porch; and on those days I left the flat I would spend them waking alone the streets of San Francisco. Sometimes I would go visit Virginia Parks a great friend and confidant who was also a member of golden Gate. She was always a person I would confide in and since she was member I could get the scuttlebutt and gossip being passed back in forth in my absence. It was a tough four days until the next general body meeting; a meeting that was going to be one of the toughest events of my life. Even to this day I still rank it with one of the most foreboding of my life. But It was my honorable duty to show up; I had to stand up and answer to the events that had transpired that fateful night. Many people had obviously heard and would want to judge our character and put, if necessary, their questions to rest.

The walk to the space, located in Hayes valley would take on a normal night 20 minutes or so from the house. It was one of the longest yet one of the shortest damn walks of my life. "Did a firing squad await?", I thought as inched myself along the path across Market St. through the lower "Haight", and finally down the hill towards "Hayes Valley."

As I made my final turn onto Hayes ave. could see at the middle of the block a already large gathering of people milling around as was accustomed before the meeting. It appeared larger than normal but considering I had hoped for a few as possible I inhaled silently as I made my way towards the front, hoping to immediately see a familiar face to ease my way inside. As I approached I began to feel like the estranged wife and everyone had heard so I felt as if they were only here to see the aftermath...like Natalie woods character "Dennie" the day she returned to class after "Buzz" had the affair, in "Splendor in the Grass." I slowly made my way through the crowd; not looking directly at anyone in particular, though hoping a safe face would help to distract me as we all waited for 7 pm to arrive. As normal I did not feel comfortable engaging in chit-chat but under these circumstances I was just hoping to be engaged by anyone who still felt good about my camaraderie as a leader of the group. To my strength and salvation I was greeted by many warm embraces and words, one of the first was Virginia and also Matthew. My reputation was on the line and this initial response made me feel welcome and supported by the people within the body I was elected to represent. Alas, I knew it would be awkward once I did see him which happens as the clock was about to strike 7pm as he walks by in his usual frenetic pace; his surrogate mother Brenda "electra" Lien in tow.

As if on cue the remained of those still left out front follow inside as the door closes, the chairs have been appropriately filled and all eyes focus on the moderators sitting neatly in front:showtime!

Saw tomorow: part 3

From that day until May 2nd. we were inseparable; I had someone who believed in me and he had the same. Since he had spent time on the streets from Detroit to New York(squatter) and now San Francisco, Adam was used to being in the shit. So traveling with me to the Tenderloin and apartment 100 was like old times for him. Once G'dali Braverman brought me home after a meeting and he was scared for me as I got out of the car. Adam laughed at this afterwards; we got along in the way two people can when you are so unlike the others in your group.
But this all began to unravel Mayday, 1992...

May 1, 1992 brought riots once again to The City as a result of the Rodney King verdict. It was an incredible day as I helped to bring destruction to the wealthy parts of the city. It was chaotic, from the communist who brought a gang of kids with them who rained rocks on the cops who tried to protect the doorways of The SF Opera. To my burning a US flag which incited the hundreds gathered in front of the California building on Van Ness Ave.
From there, the crowd began to march its venom and destruction throughout the city. Concentrating its fury on the hill top communities of rich and powerful. The police force was overwhelmed.
And in its wake many opportunist took the chance to scavenge what was left of the material corpses left in our wake. Subsequently many downtown stores were looted after the windows were smashed.
I remember walking past a leather store as mainly black people were getting the opportunity to help themselves. I was disgusted; elite fashion and wealth, and the class associated with it was responsible for the racist activities that had propelled myself and others into the streets. I began to realize then how one persons actions no matter how benevolent can give many others the cause to use it as a pretext to destroy what good you THOUGHT you were acting in support...

As a result of the dis order the authorities decided to set up those who decided to venture out the next day. We had decided to participate once again in bringing dis order to the city by the bay. To counter the unrest, the authority had imposed a curfew; they blocked off the streets of the thousands of people who were in the process of gathering throughout the cities meeting points. Unable to march, the police could then hold our location and prevent POSSIBLE action against institutions and property as was experienced the previous day. As a result we were all "lawfully" arrested, processed and then deported to a county prison 45 miles form the city. I kept thinking throughout the entire event that if we were in El Salvador, or Iraq many of us would be dead tonight. Also the ones who would survive would be used to spread tales of torture and maybe infiltrate the groups we returned too.

I feared, as I sat on the bus, and then throughout the ordeal, watching the clock and not knowing would the bell toll for me, because I had left for NYC in the spring of 1991 and did not return for my hearing after the Gulf War battles. Was this to be my home for the foreseeable future. I did not see AG until we were all about to be released; he had been stripped and had discovered later humiliated with other men in his block. They were harassed, repeatedly made to change cells and also other psy tricks by their captures. Our block was treated so much differently; all we received were updates from the prison staff on our condition and how it was changing because of the efforts of the people we had left behind in the city. Our comrades had taken to the streets and city hall demanding our release and our rights restored. SF is a great city because YOU NEVER FEEL ALONE!

So I was relieved to find out after a 36 hours that we were to be released and returned to the city. Furthermore I was able to "exhale" as I was finally processed out of the system and saw him walk by the door I had just passed as he and his crew were following to the end of the line which led to the seat I was occupying. "Great" I thought, he was OK and following me out.

Though when we made it back to the city things felt as if they had changed. I rarely saw him at the workspace where we had been had living many nights; since we had the keys and had been manning the space during the days we had begun to stay there nights too. So it was definite change that I had noticed. This change was to grow into a disconnect that was to involve other people. In his case, he began to place a wall between us by using other people. He had befriended a young punk girl with whom he began to spend time. I had come to realize the power of the state at its core; I had begun to confront the future of a society which would use any means to control civilization. Diametrically opposed reactions came from the previous weeks events:he pulled away, while I decided(and still crave) that I needed a deeper relationship that any outside force could not break. In just a few days into the second week of May on a dark late night we were to decide our fate.

He had decided to bring the young woman to live at the space; something I found offensive on many levels. It became violent, we fought and the cops were called by him. After they had left I decided to get out of that place as they too were told by the police. I walked around for an hour or two until I knew I could get inside and get a few hours of sleep with more tears than sleep. I got up as the sun had just begun to peak over the horizon; briefly organize the few things that belong to me and started to search for something to have faith in after the dark night. I followed my feet from one spot to another as the city awoke around me; until I found myself standing at the corner of Sanchez and 16Th st. Nearby stood a house that was to be an oasis that was to be a bridge to my salvation...

The man who saw tomorrow part 2

Being 24 years old, gay, and in the possession of intellect and some beauty I was able to live out my Northern California dream with some of the best people I would ever know. From the hippies in the Tenderloin to the great California kids I, hung with on every chane I got. I was living free, in a community that was proud and normal; living as "perfect" as one can be void of the interjection,
judgement unburdened by the preconceived notions of "how" and "why" I existed.

I am...

The best thing for a young man coming to terms with his full self was the ease in which all my native Californian friends lived, especially the ones from the Bay area: peole like Paul Monsula Lee, Eric Wong, the beautiful Rob Bennett.

Very much like the straight boys I lived with and befriended in So Cal at the Serano St. House. I guess it will always be that way: the best people in any area you move to will be those who call the place "home"...

They understand were all the bodies are buried so to speak...and how to avoid them. But it is weird here in apital City, all the out of towners avoid the city and its inhabitants. Not that way in SF,LA, or NYC
Anyway...
The majority of my time was to be spent in the company of Golden Gate; unlike ACTUP SF, Golden Gate being home to a majority of HIV+ members meant that were going to make demands and aply if needed the requisite action. Though becaue of this PEREIVED desperation our expediency sometimes worked against the goal of ending AIDS. I always agreed with the politics of SF but the willingness to ACT even in mistake at least fulfilled one of ACTUP's famous mantras: ACTION=LIFE...SILENCE=DEATH! My dream was to merge them both in my ativity at all costs.

Being HIV- and newly out gave me pause at first; I have to disover my role in the group. From August 1991 until mid October I sat back and listened and attended General Body; subsequently I decided to attend "Treatment Issues committee, where I start at the inner circle and work my way out. While waiting for the meeting to start at the Mission Dolores I started chattin up this wild haired ex mid-westerner great guy Matthew. Such a cool guy though with a grim outlook on life in that his past haunted him daily. But unlike many people Matt always wanted to make life better so he deision to join ACTUP was the first thing he did to transform his life he told me, the other was beoming a vegan and going clean and sober. Great guy, but we were not deeply in love to fight for our relationship; seems that when you first join an organization or group the likelihood of a initial romance is very high. And a short relationship is ultimately the result.

But I started out on treatment with him and learned a lot; developing a firm grasp of AIDS treatment issues, science and activism in the time spent. I would advise anyone who becomes an activist to learn all the angles of the issue, espeially when they contradict your own.
This committee was the politburo of our group; this relationship would erk me during my time with the group too. As stalinist as some of the young lefties they hated in ACTUP-SF. Troops for their agenda.

These were great days; even the times when our relationship weakened, and Matt and I relaxed into just friends. I still consider the fall/winter of 1991 and the beginning of 1992 to be some of the fondest memories of my life. Though at that time, I could never have understood how fragile my "life" was nor just how insecure the people and the relationships I was forming actually were in reality. How could I know that they were of convenience and not based upon a strong foundation, one needed for a long lasting relationship.
Alas, that is the bane of youth and innocence; only to be discovered unfortunately through the harsh reality of time...

The strongest and most passionate of these relationships was with Adam Gerics whom I was co-general body representative. What a spitfire of action and beauty. The more we did together the deeper I fell; he had a magnetic personae: a boy valiant, with shadows lurking behind blue eyes.
We first met incidental, a day I inially did not remember. Mathew and I sat inside a cafe on Market st. talking after a meeting. One of those meetings lovers engage in to pass the time in excuse of doing anything else. No longer lovers so you spend time beoming very good friends...
At the tale end of our relationship, Matt's eyes wandered; and on this night it gave me the opportunity to gauge his heart, and ironically a doorway to somone else.
He was eyeing a salt and peppered beefcake sitting behind us.
"You like him, huh", I asked. He nodded, confirming my suspicion and retorted: so who do you find attractive?
I looked around the room shrugged my shoulders and said, "no one here." Then on cue I looked out the window and saw this partially shaved headed blond guy, wearing a long tan trench coat and black combat boots. And without hesitation replied: 'him, I like that guy right there.'
Little did I realize that I was to be re-introduced to him weeks later at Folsom Street Fair; he had been befriended by one of the leaders of our group, Brenda Lien. Matthew reminded me that he was the one I had pointed to that night, and only then did it finally dawn on me.
And to this day, 17 years later he still has a small piece of my heart; though he never got my soul, so my soul mate still awaits.
Though we were never sexual lovers...my connection to him was still great sharing a deep relationship.
To the contradiction of many gay myths, the strongest gay male relationships have very very little to do with sex; I would contend that in many of these relationships sex is rare if at all present. If so it mimics the sex found between a long married couples: rare. I could also contend that it is the failed search for relationship that results in the settling for sex as a substitute, dooming many gay men to loneliness, despair and disease. I noticed this over the years, especially my years working at the "Club".
Anyway, AG was a spitfire...such a good "boy-friend". But he was 18 to my 24 and still stuck on being with women. This inseurity was to haunt our relationship; he could not allow it to develop in ways that I needed instead filling it with his surrogate Electra, Brenda Lien and others to be mentioned later.
Though balancing it considerably was our politcally affinity within the general body; we would bond beyond our shared duties as representatives, but based on comraderie and what I thought also a brotherhood of trust and honor amongst our bond.
Over time he grew over time to trust my political instincts and I relied upon his vigor to keep me confident and active when my own self doubt raised its head.
This unique symbiotic relationship first became tangible during the New Hampshire primaries of February 1992.
Since I had made the bold prediction right after the first Gulf War in March 1991 that Bush would lose re-election, EVERYONE, I would mention this too even days leading up to the election did not believe my prediction. But I did, and I just needed someone else to see it too.
So when Bush puked all over himself during his January visit to Japan, I was given the first omen of what was to come. Then second came a few from the campaign of Pat Buhanan who was halenging Bush from his "right". This nail in Bushs' coffin was to be proudly struck by the conservative base led by the verable "Manhester Union Ledger" the bulwark of Yankee tradiotinalism. At that time independent as the great people of New Hampshire.
Well, I remember watching the primary coverage on a small black and white TV along with Adam at the G.G. workspace, energized by the events unfolding and coming true before my eyes. He turns and asks, "so this means Bush is falling", to which I responded,"yes."
He took my belief and ran with it, making it his too.

It is one thing to believe in something but to have others share it with you makes you and all you believe so empowering and so real...

The man who saw tomorrow part 1

1992, was the first year that I realized i did know what I was doing as an activist but I had much to discover about the the nature of people and how trusting my self and what I "see" would determine the next 15 years of my life...

Here is my story told from the streets of San Francisco to today...

1992, jeez I had such a tumultuous 91 that I was finally able to settle down and grow in one solid place. after returning to San Francisco in August from New York City, I had found a home as a member of ACTUP golden Gate. Joining ACTUP while living in New York(SANE/FREEZE) I had found purpose as a gay man and as an activist; both were in need of my as millions of people, many gay men, were infected and given a death sentence called AIDS. Golden Gate was the more respected of the splintered groups, with ACTSF mainly a home of political Utopians who I had a more political liking but their status as HIV- lefties made any real progress of passing an agenda of change based on co-operation and confrontation with the system a more likely setting for both personal and professional growth. We got things done because the many HIV+ members HAD viewed any progress as victory because they lived with a death sentence everyday because of their status. This political desperation still lives with me today; I have a hard time with political activist today because of it; even antiwar vets are too comfortable with their fate, I thought they would be as impatient; ironically I felt that when they arrived here to DC I could find camaraderie with them because I falsely thought they would share the same "urgency", but that I will leave for another time...
Well, ACTUP both in New York and SF were a blast: their use of street theater and in your face tactics used AFTER-- sometimes months-- of research and negotiations taught me much about a system I did not trust and the will of people to organize to save life using "all means" to achieve some sense of "victory".
So, I had decided to follow my path and join ACTUP in New York where I was living for a month and working as Canvass Field Director for SANE/Freeze(largest peace group in America) ; I was also coming out as a Gay man and also moving in a more radical political direction. Consequently I also knew that my future in both would be made in San Francisco, where I had left many things unfinished after I re-joined Sane and moved to NYC; I had to return to SF but first I had a month or so to practice agitprop with the mother ship of ACTUP NY and live in Manhattan...

Divorcing from SANE was easier than I thought it would be; canvas offices are like families but my small cadre of friends knew I was not hapy with life inside of Sane; they accepted my release from our office near Columbia University and my move from Brooklyn and into an apartment with the architect I had met while being active in ACTUP.
Imagine, I had been going to meetings after working during the day with Sane and a few weeks later I was living as a gay man openly with another man. Change was happening so fast; I did not fear because my heart said: go.
Though this situation was transitional because as I stated earlier I knew my heart and soul still lived in San Francisco, and only a return to that city-- which I had left 4 months earlier-- would I feel "complete." I had made the metamorphosis; I had gone from unsure to sure of my status as a man and most of all in who I was to be and where my life was to be lived; and all on my terms too. For the first time in my life, I knew "where I was going."

Or so I thought...

voter guide me

I believe that there is going to be a massive re-alignment after this Tuesday's general election.

Obama and the Democrats will win big, with the republican party mainly segregated to the former Confederate states; the ideology of these Republicans will be more in line with Ron Paul neo-Jeffersonianism than the "conservatism" of Bush or even Reagan.

Lastly, because Obama is left wing cover for the establishment he will ultimately bring alienation and depression to those whom voted for him; this will be realized over the next 2 years. Tragically this could result in the mass devolution of the fragile binds that hold our country together. The "hope" lies in this same realization; many people want real change and his fraud will provide the power to unite the various factions inside our nation to fight for and ultimately restore the world's first citizen Republic.

PREPARE for BATTLE!!!