THE STREETS OF SAN FRANCISCO FOR AS FAR AS THE EYE COULD SEE AND IN EVERY DIRECTION WERE FILLED WITH PEOPLE LAYING IN THE STREETS AS IF THEY HAD DIED FROM AIDS. THIS WHILE OUR GOVERNMENT HOSTED AN INTERNATIONAL AIDS CONFERENCE IN SAN FRANCISCO IN A CONFERENCE CENTER SURROUNDED BY HUNDREDS OF POLICE IN RIOT GEAR AND PILES OF SAND BAGS.
 

ON THIS DAY, JUNE 5TH, 25 YEARS AGO IN 1981 THE FIRST 5 CASES OF AN "UNUSUAL" PNEUMONIA WERE REPORTED. FIRST CALLED 'GRID' (GAY RELATED IMMUNE DEFICIENCY) DEATHS DUE TO AIDS IN THE UNITED STATES ALONE HAVE NOW TOPPED 530,OOO. GLOBALLY OVER 40 MILLION PEOPLE ARE CURRENTLY LIVING WITH HIV/AIDS. THIS SHORT POEM/STORY I WROTE IS ABOUT SOME OF THOSE WHO AREN'T.

LAMENTS
(TITLE BORROWED FROM DEREK JARMEN)

ANDREW WAS A PUNK ROCKER, SPIKED BLOND HAIR, PIERCING BLUE EYES, PALE WHITE SKIN. HE WAS TALL, LEAN AND VERY PRESENT. I MET HIM IN THE EARLY 1980'S AT AN OLD DISCO TURNED PUNK ROCK VENUE IN HOLLYWOOD. HE WAS AN ART STUDENT AT OTIS PARSONS. HE WORE OVERSIZED BUTTON UP OXFORD SHIRTS AND TIGHT PLAID PANTS. HE WAS FUNNY, SINCERE, TALENTED AND SEXY AS HELL. HE DIED IN LONG BEACH, CALIFORNIA FROM AIDS IN 1983. I WAS JUST TURNING 19. ANDREW WAS DEAD.
 
COUSIN GARY WAS A CLASSICALLY TRAINED DANCER AS WELL AS  BOB DYLANS ASSISTANT.  BY THE END OF HIS TEENS HE WAS OUT OF THE CLOSET. BY HIS EARLY TWENTIES HE WAS A CONFIDENT MEMBER OF NEW YORK CITIES LEATHER COMMUNITY AND A SUCCESSFUL CLUB DJ. BY THE TIME HE WAS 24, IN 1984 , HE WAS DEAD. HE FOUGHT LONG AND HARD FOR HIS LIFE. SEEING EVERY DOCTOR FROM COAST TO COAST AND TRYING EVERYTHING POSSIBLE TO STAY ALIVE. AFTER A LONG, PAINFUL BOUGHT WITH PNEUMONIA, HE DIED FROM AIDS. I WAS IN SAN FRANCISCO ATTENDING MY FIRST YEAR OF UNIVERSITY. MY MOM CALLED AND LEFT ME THE FOLLOWING MESSAGE...
 
"COUSIN GARY DIED. LEAVING TONIGHT FOR NEW YORK. I LOVE YOU. BE CAREFUL"
 
I MET PAT AT AN UNDERGROUND CLUB IN SOUTH CENTRAL LOS ANGELES. A GROUP OF LOCAL GANGSTERS HAD BROKEN PAST THE FRONT DOOR AND WERE PUNCHING PEOPLE RANDOMLY AND STEALING MONEY AND WATCHES AND WALLETS, ETC. ALL OF A SUDDEN ONE OF THEM WAS AT MY IMMEDIATE RIGHT AND HAD TAKEN A SWING AT MY GOOD FRIEND J. V. McAULEY. AS HE FOCUSED AND BEGAN TO THROW A PUNCH TOWARDS PAT, WHO WAS STANDING NEARBY US AT THE TIME, I WITHOUT EVEN THINKING ABOUT IT FOR A SECOND, HIT HIM SO HARD WITH MY FIST I LITERALLY HALFWAY KNOCKED HIM OUT. ONCE HE WAS ON THE GROUND, JV KICKED HIM WITH THE PUMPS HE WAS WEARING. PAT WAS SAVED. HE HAD TO BE. HE WAS A FIVE FOOT, FIVE (MAYBE), QUITE, GENTLE IRISH BOY. WITH A HUGE BEAUTIFUL NOSE. HE WAS CUTE, FUNNY, SMART, ALIVE AND A BRILLIANT ARTIST.  I USED TO CALL HIM EVERY NIGHT BACK IN THE EARLY 90'S AFTER I HAD TESTED HIV POSITIVE. I WAS HAVING A REALLY HARD TIME DEALING WITH THE FACT THAT ON A GOOD DAY, I'D BE DEAD WITHIN TEN YEARS AT THE AGE OF 38. ( I, AM, NOW 42 ) AND NOT ONLY THAT, I KNEW WHAT WAS COMING. ALL THE ILLNESSES, SIDE EFFECTS, PHYSICAL EFFECTS, MENTAL EFFECTS AND THE MONTHS OF ENDLESS PAIN AND SUFFERING BEFORE I EVEN GOT TO FINALLY DIE. I WAS NOT ONLY FREAKED, SCARED, WORRIED, NUMB AND HAVING A REALLY HARD TIME DEALING WITH MY PARENTS OVERWHELMING GRIEF, BUT ON TOP OF ALL THAT  I KNEW I WOULD BE ALONE AND SINGLE FOR ALL THE REMAINING YEARS OF MY LIFE. PAT HELPED ME DEAL WITH THAT. HE HELPED ME BE ABLE TO DATE AGAIN. HE SOWED ME HOW TO TELL PEOPLE I WAS HIV POSITIVE AND HOW TO DEAL WITH THEM AS THEY TURNED GREEN, TOLD ME THEY HAD NO PROBLEM WITH THAT AND RAN FOR THE DOOR. HE WAS FULL OF FUNNY STORIES. HE SAVED MY LIFE. PAT CAME UP WITH THE NAME "THE SHOOTING GALLERY"  FOR MY ANNUAL ART EVENTS THAT RAISED TENS OF THOUSANDS OF DOLLARS FOR THE CLEAN NEEDLE EXCHANGE PROGRAMS, THE LOS ANGELES CENTER FOR PHOTOGRAPHIC STUDIES, LACE AND ACT UP. PAT DIED BEFORE HE EVEN TURNED 24 FUCKING YEARS OLD.
 
STEVEN WAS THE LOVE OF MY LIFE. THE FIRST TIME I EVER SAW HIM HE WAS WEARING A RED AND ORANGE MICKEY MOUSE T-SHIRT. HE DIED AFTER A LONG PAINFUL ILLNESS WHICH TOOK AWAY HIS MEMORY AS IT ATE AWAY AT HIS BRAIN. HE COULDN'T EVEN REMEMBER MY NAME. WE HAD KNOWN EACH OTHER SINCE 1983, WERE BOYFRINDS,BEST FRIENDS, LOVERS AND UNDERGROUND CLUB GODS TOGETHER FOR OVER 13 YEARS BY THAT TIME AND HE COULDN'T EVEN REMEMBER MY FUCKING NAME. HE DIED IN MY ARMS, SURROUNDED BY BEAUTIFUL FRIENDS, ROSE PEDDLES AND TEARS.THE SECOND AFTER HE DREW HIS LAST BREATH, PAULINE WHO HAD KEPT TELLING STEVEN IT WAS OKAY TO LET GO AND DIE, AS HE FOUGHT FOR HIS LIFE FOR MONTHS, INSTANTLY TURNED TO HIM AND SAID "I LIED, IT'S NOT OK. I LOVE YOU" THE LAST TIME I EVER SAW HIM HE WAS BEING ZIPPED  UP IN A BROWN BODY BAG AND WHEELED  OFF FOREVER. HE DIED FROM AIDS NOVEMBER 9TH, 1996 AT THE AGE OF 30.
 
THE FIRST TIME I EVER MET ROB CHOP WAS THE SECOND I REGAINED CONSCIOUSNESS AFTER PASSING OUT INTO A DEEP SLEEP  FROM DAYS OF BEING UP ON TONS OF WHISKEY AND COCAINE. I WAS IN SAN FRANCISCO SCOUTING FOR A LOCATION TO OPEN A NORTHERN EDITION OF THE HUGELY SUCCESSFUL AND PROFITABLE LOS ANGELES CLUB I OWNED AT THE TIME CALLED 'EGG SALAD'. WE WERE AT ROBS HOUSE. AND THE REASON I HAD AWOKEN WAS BECAUSE ROB WAS HAVING SEX WITH ME. HE HAD ONLY MET ME A WEEK EARLIER AND WAS HAVING SEX WITH ME WHILE I WAS ASLEEP. ON TOP OF THAT, AND I SWEAR THIS IS THE TRUTH, HE WAS DRESSED AS A CATERPILLAR, IN A HUGE FURRY COSTUME. WE CONTINUED TO HANG OUT AT HIS HOUSE ALONG WITH A LARGE GROUP OF SAN FRANCISCO'S FINEST, INCLUDING THE PERFORMER 'DEAD MARILYN', THE SOCIAL WRITER/COMMENTATOR GINA HALL, FILM MAKER STEVE WOMAN AND A PLETHORA OF SOON TO BE FAMOUS PHOTOGRAPHERS, STYLISTS AND ARTISTS. ROBS WIFE, HEIDI, WAS THE PERSON IN CHARGE OF GROWING LETTUCES AND ASSORTED GREENS FOR ALICE WATERS RESTAURANT 'CHEZ PANISSE' AND IN DOING SO KEPT US ALL WELL FED.  FOR THE NEXT SIX OR SEVEN DAYS STRAIGHT WE DID MORE COCAINE, DRANK BOTTLES OF BOOZE AND WATCHED THE MOVIE "SID AND NANCY" OVER AND OVER AND OVER AND OVER AGAIN. ROB AND I BECAME VERY GOOD FRIENDS. AFTER ROBS FUNERAL IN SAUSALITO, ACROSS THE GOLDEN GATE BRIDGE FROM SAN FRANCISCO, A LARGE GROUP OF HIS CLOSE FRIENDS AND ABOUT ANOTHER TEN OR MORE MEN WHOM SEEMED TO BE ENGAGED IN WHAT WAS A GROWING DISPUTE BETWEEN THEM BECAUSE ALL OF THEM WERE CLAIMING TO BE THE WIDOW, RETURNED TO HIS SPACIOUS APARTMENT IN the CASTRO DISTRICT THAT CONVENIENTLY OVERLOOKED ONE OF THE MAIN GAY CRUISING PARKS IN THE CITY. ABOUT 15 OF US WHO WERE THERE AND ROBS EXTREMELY WEALTHY AND FAMOUS SOCIALITE MOTHER ENDED UP DANCING ON TOP OF ROBS BED. THE SONG WAS 'HOLIDAY' BY MADONNA. IT WAS SPONTANEOUS, A LITTLE CREEPY, AND PURE LOVE, GRIEF AND MAGIC. ROB DIED FROM AIDS.
 
MARIO WAS AN AMAZING PERSON. HE OWNED SEVERAL POPULAR LOS ANGELES RESTAURANTS, SUPPORTED THE CITIES LATIN COMMUNITY LIKE THERE WAS NO TOMORROW, FINANCIALLY AND EMOTIONALLY SUPPORTED THE CITIES ART COMMUNITY ALL HIS FRIENDS WERE HONEST, STRONG, OPINIONATED, AND TRUE TO THEMSELVES. HE LOVED LIFE AND HE LIVED IT WELL. MARIO TAUGHT ME HOW TO BE A BUSINESSMAN. SEVERAL TIMES A WEEK WE WOULD HAVE LUNCH AT ONE OF HIS RESTAURANTS AND HE WOULD GIVE ME TIPS AND ADVICE. WE WOULD GOSSIP AND LAUGH AND LAUGH AND LAUGH. A FEW WEEKS AFTER ATTENDING THE OPENING NIGHT OF MY FIRST "REAL" "LEGITIMATE" "PERMITTED" NIGHTCLUB, THE OPIUM DEN, IN HOLLYWOOD MARIO DIED IN HIS SLEEP FROM AIDS.
 
DAVID WAS A WARDROBE PERSON FOR MAJOR MOTION PICTURES AND A LONG TIME CLOSE FRIEND OF MINE. HE'S THE ONE WHO FIRST TURNED ME ONTO VIVIENNE WESTWOOD. THE LAST TIME I SAW HIM THE TWO OF US WERE ATTENDING A HALLOWEEN PARTY UP IN THE HOLLYWOOD HILLS AT THE ACTUAL MANSION WHERE BELLA LAGOSI ONCE LIVED. HE WAS DRESSED AS A PILE OF DEAD DOGS AND I WAS A VAMPIRE. AFTER TRYING WHAT SEEMED LIKE EVERY BITTER, MOLDY MUSHROOM FUNGUS DRINK AND EVERY CUCUMBER COMPOUND AND EVERY LAST BABOONS HEART LEFT ON PLANET EARTH TO STAY ALIVE, DAVID DIED FROM AIDS IN HIS MID THIRTIES. THE NIGHT MY GOOD FRIEND ELLIOTT TOLD ME I INSTANTLY STARTED CRYING UNCONTROLLABLY. I WAS SURPRISED THAT I WAS EVEN STILL CAPABLE OF CRYING FOR IT HAD ALREADY BEEN MORE THAN A DECADE OF WEEKLY FUNERALS, NOT KNOWING IF PEOPLE HAD SIMPLY MOVED AWAY OR DIED JUST WEEKS  EARLIER  I HAD SEEN AND HEARD A LARGE GROUP OF 'YOUNG REPUBLICANS' IN HOUSTON TEXAS LOUDLY CHANT "AIDS IS THE CURE" AS I, AND THOUSANDS, MARCHED PASSED THEM ON OUR WAY TO THE ASTRO DOME ON THE VERY NIGHT THAT THE FIRST GEORGE BUSH, WHO ALONG WITH HIS FRIEND RONALD REAGAN, WILL ROT IN HELL FOR ETERNITY, WAS NOMINATED AS THAT PARTIES CANDIDATE FOR REELECTION AS PRESIDENT OF THE UNITED STATES OF AMERICA. EVEN AFTER ALL THAT AND THE FACT THAT AIDS HAD COMPLETELY DESTROYED MY LIFE AND MY WORLD. I STOOD THERE ON THE SIDEWALK, OUTSIDE A NIGHTCLUB IN WEST HOLLYWOOD SHAKING AND CRYING UNCONTROLLABLY.

 NONE OF US WERE STRUCK BY LIGHTNING.