Better late than never.

13 months and my computer has finally "recovered".

Doing well and very lucky.

I live day by day ...

SO, READ THIS

Dr. Death and 0-Bamacare

Read Dr. Ezekeil Emanuel's -0-Bama's Healthcare adviser-take on Euthanasia, and its USE in controlling the cost of Health care.

And then decide who is telling the "truth" on "Death Panels."

UGH: THAT'S "NEW"?

Unfortunately, because I was late in attending a House Armed Forces Committee meeting at the new Capitol Visitor Center, I kept on my shorts, tank and sandals as I walked through the center to the hearing. Talking about a different "character"; I was loving my "difference" from the majority of "tight-asses" waring their civilian and non civilian "suits". Though happily, I DID fit in with the masses of tourist who incredibly, had to wait in line outside the center.

Imagine a visitors center where you must wait OUTSIDE to visit: the newer the site in town, the more undemocratic its relation to the ordinary citizens. This should be a warning signal to those who look to the changes in the coming years.

Well, my first impression of this "new" center did not feel very "welcoming" but it was to be-- in time-- very, very educating.

After spending nearly 2 hours listening to the Obama Administration's foreign policy team on Russia defend its "rewind" not "reset"--as they had titled the meeting-- on US/Russia relations; I was relieved when it finally came to an end and I was able to leave the auxiliary room(prize for being 1/2 hour late) and began to venture through this tomb, towards the exit.

Upon leaving I passed by the official hearing room and checked out its seating arrangement(72) and then began to resume my exit. As I walked past a side hallway I noticed a gathering of elites in suits heading inside a conference room after they surveyed a collection of information on an outside table. "Hmm, there looks like a story" I thought as I headed towards the gathering; I stopped first at the table to see the issue(health care), and "even better", I thought it was REPUBLICAN...."Great".

Well my excitement quickly sours as I am met by male and female "gatekeepers"; young and dedicated to get me away from the information table that no "elite" seem particularly interested, and then out from in front of the meeting room doors. "Screw them", I thought realizing that it is the right of citizenship to be able to stand freely outside doors of power; the hospitality of this place was so much more frigid than the older office buildings used by the Senate and the House of Representatives.

This "NEW" center has rules and procedures providing quite the "CHANGE" from the old patterns found here in the federal city at the heart of the town in which I had grown up.

Soon, "Tom and Mary GOP" are supported by Secret Service goons; one named Angel whose devious behaviour starkly contradicted his christian name. After displaying my credentials gained from the earlier hearing I am able to rid myself of gthe SS guards for the moment as they check with HQ about my presence. Fortunately, for me, while standing at attention for about 5-10 minutes, I hear juicy statements like "this is a battle field" and "we are in this"; great quotes of those whom rightfully intend to fight for their side.
Something, I have to uphold too as I notice a return of the little angel who joins his bigger browner "brother"; they resume their charges against me: "you cannot stand here" and we need you to move to the end of the hall".

"Why", I protested again, "I just want to listen"; it was to no avail as little "angel" gets me to move to the end of the hall where I am immediately greeted by a regular Capitol Hill policeman, appropriately standing besides a group of doors marked "exit". I then begin to realize what direction they have for me so I begin to get loud and boisterous causing them to worry about how this exit will be delivered. Little "angel" drops back, standing about 10 feet away and having done his job of delivering me to what I was about to learn was an unauthorized location. The policeman begins doing his job of "calming " me; the repiglican blond makes her way over to little angel adding: he did not have press credentials. I begin to explain that I am an independent blogger who was there to cover the earlier hearing and decided to stop and check out the meeting; besides as a citizen, standing.... should not be an offense especially in the "welcoming" environment of the Capitol Visitors Center.

Fucking Republicans, as bad as the Democrats!

Ironically, I had mentioned to the male gatekeeper that I supported their efforts to defeat "Obamacare" and with it his Presidency and if possible that rogue Pelosi too.

So I am led out what seems the longest way possible by the guard; I exit from the Senate side of the Capitol building, then I have to climb over one of the numerous barricades that seem to block every paved walkway around the Capitol.
Though as I have discovered in this sometimes evil city, god can bring light in a time of darkness. As I begin to exit the capitol grounds I notice a reporter for "Russia Today" , giving a taped interview with her cameraman ; we exchange " hellos" and I ask her if she attended the Armed Forces Hearing, to which she replied "no, their coverage was on Sudan". She asks me about the hearing to which I begin to give her my take: Obama's Russia policy is a rewind, not reset; he is Bush's third term.

We talked further about my impressions of him, before and after his election and the future of US/Russia relations; she finds me engaging enough to take my number and name offering me an interview in the future, if possible; to which I was greatly appreciative.


Finally, I felt welcomed and supportive, and hopefully the start of a good US/Russia relationship.



I will posted later about my geo political observations concerning Obama and Russia...

40 years from history.

Forty years have passed since this memorable day in US and human history.

A wonderful achievement of human Reason and productivity.

Oh yes, the whole world was watching!

Same bat time, same bat channel....

Hey, what ever happened to "TMBCHR" and how can I get a hold of him?

Full court 'press' against domestic tyranny

Happy Birthday to the United States: an experiment to see if humanity could rule itself.

On our 233rd birthday things can appear dire; the republic seems to take a hit everyday from the great Impostor, 0-BAMA! Who continues the legacy of that abomination, King George Bush!


Fortunately on July 3, the spirit of 1776, found succinctly in the First Amendment to the United States Constitution was reignited by reporters Chip Reid and the legendary Helen Thomas. They correctly demanded and end to the Adminstrations unprecedented attempt to control and contrive press events.

IT IS ABOUT DAMN TIME!

NOW--what are "We the People" going to do about it?

Lets continue this fighting tradition; lets fight for our country and for our lives...

July 4 2009: long live the Revolution!

Stop him before he kills US all...

So AIG gets 160 Billion!

And from that pool 35 Billion goes to foreign Bankers!

That jackal, Bernanke, will not tell the Congress where the 10 trillion of dollars that the Federal Reserve has given to the banks.

Obama has sold out "WE the People" to Finance Capital; redirecting the wealth of the former in order to "bailout" the former; sacrificing blue collar workers and manufacturing. Here he is willing "take on" the last sector of "Physical Production" with it's machine-tool capacity and labor intensive workforce lonely segregated with the car industry in "Detroit". The Presidential pussy demands concessions!

He is willing to break the contracts between the workers and the owners of the means of production; though ironically this same man would not break the bonuses for AIG.

He is a tool of Finance Capital; this is reflected by viewing his list of campaign contributors.

Obama is the greatest con artist of our time; I accurately predicted he would betray his "left wing" base; he uses left wing cover to promote the same "Wall Street" agenda of privatization, deregulation and globalization that Bush-Clinton-Bush- Reagan have followed to the deterioration of our once great nation.

So why wait any longer: IMPEACH OBAMA!!!

You are just the "pits", Don!

Loud mouth, colorful canuck commentator Don Cherry has called for cowardly action, against DC hockey hero, Alex Ovechkin.

Blinded by his Canadian bias, Cherry hopes to depress the deserved attention Comrade Ovechkin has earned as the best player in the world. Obviously unaccustomed to a player of A.O.'s unique and passionate personae, Cherry has decided to cut away at his success by calling, irresponsibly for cheap retaliation against Ovechkin-- AFTER he has scored. A dirty action for any player to do in any case but to exact retribution after a player has scored, by running him from behind speaks to a goonish attitude that reflects bad on Mr. Cherry and for those who follow his brand of "hockey". One he promoted with amazing success as coach of the Big Bad Bruins of the 1970's.

Incidently, this career minor leaguer, has the nerve to call for a Canadian jihad against a player who has more NHL career goals in his first game, than Cherry had in his ENTIRE NHL career: zero!

As a fan of the game, I think this will do nothing but help the Capitals and their iconic superstar. This call to arms against Ovechkin and Capitals' nation can do nothing but harden us to the many battles that lay in our future, in the quest to capture the greatest trophy in sports: Lord Stanley's Cup.



Don't hate, Don Cherry...Celebrate!

He aint goin no where!

C-A-P-S: CAPS, CAPS, CAPS!

A night in December...

When I hear your voice the world makes sense to me.
But why?
How can it be possible that we can "fit" .
Opposite directions, yet we cross head first on the road of life.
Uniforms of different colors, sizes; thankfully our hearts share the same brand.
Providence has a plan for us... a journey hand in hand.

Patience, oh the chance to share
a life with one who has so much to give.
I waited alone hoping you would arrive
to take away my loneliness--am I your bride?
I honor you and respect your service; you play the muse, musket, and the match.
Time will tell, which one you let... "play" you.
I do not care baby, just as long as you play and play and play.
Tasting the fruits of joy from this world and happiness along the way.

Time stands for no one
the blessed, never stand long alone.
I will always love you
and all you give up
may we live at least until June
to finally see that beautiful cup!

I Miss George W.

First, I must admit that it has unfortunately been too long since my last post; computer problems ad infinitum have dogged me...

NOW

I spent 2 hours this afternoon checking out the Obama Inauguration and I have returned wholly disgusted!

That was the worst inauguration I have ever seen here in my hometown; the security was massive and over bearing. If Bush was president and presided over that display than the majority of those people in attendance and the bourgeosie press would be equally in disgust!

Millions of compliant sheeple waited in LINE(metal detectors) just to stand at attention and watch the people's president get sworn in. I found this extremely contradicting. But this will not matter to these sheeple who are so thankful evil Bush is gone they will except ANYTHING... and this is what the elites whom financed the Obama "Color Revolution" have banked on.

As a patriot and activist it just means I have to get out my old "right wing" playbook and once again battle the left wing establishment....this shit is getting tired!

So in that regard I say: BRING BACK BUSH!!!!!!!!!

Rejoice!

Celebrate...celebrate, the birth of the "Son"...


Life has returned to us all--let's us rejoice and be glad!


Let the light of a new day be for you and all you love!!!

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!