Only the Names have Changed

...to continue to unearth our own is merely to serve ourselves injustice
…to continue to unearth our own is merely to serve ourselves injustice
The Other Side of AIDS
The Other Side of AIDS (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

“He removes the greatest ornament of friendship, who takes away from it respect.” by Cicero.

Way back yonder up ’round the Blue Ride Parkway pass the turnpike of twenty-two…back when adults were adults. They were neither old, nor young nor anything in between.
I had the privilege to become acquainted with a vast array of individuals. It had been during the peak of AIDS season and all hands on deck were needed.
Weaverville North Carolina seemed like Mayberry on Crack but still as friendly as can be when your back wasn’t turned.
A fresh-faced but frightened lesbian in a new land, volunteering seemed the only way OUT per say.
After all I had been semi-OUT for quite sometime. Matter of fact the city of Asheville North Carolina and their wives have offered to write me romantic references.
W.N.C.A.P., Western North Carolina AIDS Coalition Program needed persons to be buddies, caretakers, nurses and all around, some one to lean on.
It was there in the Blue Hues of the Pines nestled amongst a cityscape that I met, Ricki.
Ricki had been a drag queen, a latent flamer and a wonderful story-teller.
So severe had his case been that during one ‘ignorant’ dentist appointment, the examination room had been covered wall to wall with tarps. Oh, the fear of those damned homosexuals. The unwarranted hatred smelt like a fishery during a heat wave.

I took Ricki everywhere for at the later stages of AIDS and way before any age of slowing down the horrible and debilitating process; my young friend turned oddly ancient had every infection known to man or woman.
On one particular trip down off the Blue Ridge Parkway, struggling to get the over sized wheelchair out of my beat up Escort, Ricki began to weep quietly as I picked him up and steadied him for transport back to the dungeon called ‘poverty apartment’ living.
“I have just one wish…One wish and I’d be happy to go tomorrow. I want my ashes to lay upon Mount Mitchell. I want to soar with the eagles.”
Hard core, ridden roughly and hung up wet had been my typical demeanor. But at that remark I too could not help the tears from falling.
“It’ll be taken care of! Don’t you worry.”
With that I gave him a kiss on the cheek and shook his hand in promise of a better day.
The next day Ricki had passed away due to every complication there is to be complicated by.
A service had been held. Members from the project, friends, lovers and dreamers gathered to pay heed to this gentle man.
Not a single relative arrived on that day or any other day.
A letter had been sent.
To Whom it May Concern:
Ricki has not been a part of this family for many years. And, in fact, has been considered not a part of this family the day he told us he was a homosexual.
Please do as you see fit with the body.
Thank you
Blah, Blah, Blah

Ricki soared with the eagles. I see him every spring when a fresh batch of winter birds fly north for the summer.
Perhaps, the loss of his soul to homophobia. The loss of others due to suicide via the shaming of our OUT preference by those who are indeed, also, closeted-ly gay. Perhaps, all of the above stops me on many occasions. Causes a stir of anger and a thrust of distrust amongst our own.
When the Ambiens’, the Annie‘s, the Gracie‘s of this world. The young adults as we call them.
Hide from their own fear and take the whole lot of us ten years back; I cringed and vow redemption.
A daily prayer that I will not forget those who have gone before me and made my closet easier to open.
A mantra to bring into the light those of keep us still well hidden.

Blue at the Beach

Bad Donut
Bad Donut

Ambien at the beach!
I went to the beach not too long ago…Martha’s Vineyard! Of course, that is where you would find the highest population of white on white bodies needing to get over their over fed ideas on wealth and wisdom.
Any who!
At the beach, Mother Theresa found a shell and stated to me:
Pick it up and hold it close to your one good ear, Ambien! You can hear your future in it!
I shook the water and ideas loose from my dyed to be blonde head and held the untidy shell close. Soon I would be hearing my life’s untold story!
Waiting and waiting some more. I listened intently for my up and coming events of saving the world with misspelled ‘big’ words and bequeathing the poor and impoverished one double scooped ice cream at a time. Thank Christ for an allowance.
What had my one good ear and my one soiled shell told me?
Not one fuckin’ thing! A crab scurried out, bit my ear and now I have crabs. I will never listen to Mummy or my future again!

...look Ambien, there's a whale!
…look Ambien, there’s a whale!

Ambien, Annie, Gracie thought for the day:
“A small mind is a place where there is no place to go where you shouldn’t.”

Touring with the Big Girls

 

For all you young idealists out there who want to go “make a difference” and “change the world” go right ahead, but don’t do it with AmeriCorps. The last few months I have spent with this organization has been pure fuckin’ hell…

AmeriCorps seems great at first. An education award ($4725), and a living stipend ($10,600) seems like enough to get by on. It isn’t.

1. The Education award is taxable, and that’s even if you earn it. Only about 50% of my class will actually be finishing their 1700 in order to earn their award. This is because the program is set up to have you finish in August when everyone else is applying and getting new jobs in May.

2. $10,600 averages out to about 2$ an hour. There are many other fulfilling organiztions you can go work for that will pay you a real salary.

3. AmeriCorps lied to me and just about everyone I know about what our actual job assignments would be. My time as of late had been spent checking in on fake friends and mastering masturbation.  Ideal hands our the volunteer’s workshop.

4. For anyone out there who write this off as a cynical rant you can politely go F^%*( yourself. AmeriCorps sucks, ask anyone.

5. If you’re so psychopathic that you are only doing a summer tour; work on your tan…you’ll have plenty of free time.

6. Bend over put your head between your legs and kiss your ass good-bye and your sex life…no, good deed goes unpunished.

 

I hope this will help some of you make better career decisions.

Post Script- the food sucks too.  Not real sure how I keep getting fatter.  I could live off my body fat for a year and still have leftovers to offer the rest of the troop.

Thank you for your time.

Ambien, Annie, Gracie, Williams, VISTA Abhorrent