Hal was designer and window dresser. He did windows for many fine shops around town and decorated my apartment on 11th Street: very slick, very fab. He had that kind of talent that comes from being raised in the south together with the knowledge of 'fine things' and the modesty to still have his grandmother's feather bed. It was the only piece of furniture that she held onto during the depression. His love and knowledge of fine things came in very handy when he had to go broke.
In order to qualify for SSD, you had to appear broke, so people started hiding their assets. Hal cut a deal with an antiques shop on Greenwich Avenue - he bought $30,000 worth of antiques: silver, ceramics, jewelry, books. And whenever he needed cash he'd go down to the 'bank' and cash in a bijou. It worked out well~!
Hal attended to St Luke's. It was a welcome and healing place for many, especially those ravaged as much by religion as by AIDS. I can see him now: fourth pew right of center, jacket & tie; very southern, very proper. Hal got sick in the early days of AIDS and for him it was AZT every four hours. I remember many people on that hateful regimen. You could set your watch by it, promptly at 12:00 noon his pill box would go off and he would faithfully down his 4 tabs of AZT.
Hal went to the hospital once for PCP. When he was released from the hospital, he had a Porta-Cath. This was a brilliant improvement over the Hickman catheter which just hung out of the arm or chest, always getting infected. The Porta-Cath was a bulb-like device set under the skin on the ribs that drained into the sub-clavicular vein. It made it easy to take IV drugs and simple injections. You just set the injection to the Porta-Cath site. In Los Angeles, they would have them placed on the hip bone so the tell-tale bulb would be hidden under the Speedo line on the beach. I helped him a few times with the procedure, easy really, once you got used to it. They even made pressurized balls to contain the infusions.
As easy as treatments were to give, they were very harsh on the patient, and they made it easier to stay out of the hospital. Hal made Bill Donahue and I promise to keep him out of the hospital for the duration. He gave us medical power of attorney and showed the documents to each of his visiting healthcare workers. It was pretty common in those days: should a crisis arise, the healthcare worker could call the patients medical representative instead of 911. Of course you had to be there within minutes and often patients went back into emergency rooms against their wishes. I got several calls from Hal's home before the last one.
Notes on Bactrim - 15-20 mg/kg/day. Side effects include: Severe allergic reactions (rash; hives; itching; difficulty breathing; tightness in the chest; swelling of the mouth, face, lips, or tongue); blistered, peeling, red, or swollen skin; bloody or black, tarry stools; chest pain; chills, fever, or sore throat; decreased urination; depression; hallucinations; irregular heartbeat; joint or muscle pain; painful or stiff neck; purple patches under the skin; seizures; severe diarrhea; severe or persistent cough; severe or persistent headache; severe or persistent nausea or vomiting; shortness of breath; stomach cramps/pain; unusual bruising or bleeding; unusual tiredness or weakness; unusually pale skin; vaginal irritation or discharge; yellowing of the skin or eyes.
Tuesday, December 15, 2009
Wednesday, November 18, 2009
Alan Brooks - November 20, 1990
Alan was handsome enough to be called beautiful: dark wavy hair sweeping back; naturally athletic body, skin maintained by Georgette Klinger. He was the first man I know who had facials regularly at the beginning each season. He was on the rebound from an affair with Joseph Iaccobucci when we met. I was not, however, invited to dine on his famous fuck-chicken. This was a meal designed for seduction, leaving the guest appetized and ready for the main course: Alan. He served it quite often.
We dated for a while and spent a week together in St Martin, idyllic if not particularly serious. Being in real estate, he was more interested in the Hampton's Crowd and had a mentor our there.
We dated for a while and spent a week together in St Martin, idyllic if not particularly serious. Being in real estate, he was more interested in the Hampton's Crowd and had a mentor our there.
Monday, November 2, 2009
Micheal Koonsman - November 26, 1986
Michael lived in a basement apartment on Stuyvesant Street. The entry was under the main staircase. The main floor was the living and dining area. In the basement there was a kitchen and above a bedroom. Michael was a large man - 6'4 or 6'5 - and bounding into his home gave me the impression of a large rabbit entering his warren. Yet once inside the wonderland, everything seemed normal in an east-village kind of way. Mostly, people lounged on the floor propped up on pillows. There were baskets for storage and spaces for well placed artifacts: an icon of Mary, a flower, a painting, a Japanese Buddha.
Michael was a priest who took on sexual freedom fearlessly and generously. His passions were a radical departure from his roots in Denver & Scandinavia. He was one of a handful of young priests notorious for getting phone numbers between the wafer and the wine. But it wasn't salacious or seductive, it was a generosity of spirit that invited men into a joyous celebration of their bodies as incarnations of holy writ. While I did not partake of this communion, many did and were thankful for knowing him so well.
Through his work at many parishes, he was known to afflict the comfortable as well as comfort the afflicted. He added so much life to the practice of love. Chuck Burleigh was with him the night he died, as he had been for many nights before.
Michael was a priest who took on sexual freedom fearlessly and generously. His passions were a radical departure from his roots in Denver & Scandinavia. He was one of a handful of young priests notorious for getting phone numbers between the wafer and the wine. But it wasn't salacious or seductive, it was a generosity of spirit that invited men into a joyous celebration of their bodies as incarnations of holy writ. While I did not partake of this communion, many did and were thankful for knowing him so well.
Through his work at many parishes, he was known to afflict the comfortable as well as comfort the afflicted. He added so much life to the practice of love. Chuck Burleigh was with him the night he died, as he had been for many nights before.
Eddie Elias - August 19, 1984
Eddie was my client at GMHC. He was Hispanic, in his 20's. He lived in Chelsea, but somehow ended up in Montefiore Hospital in the Bronx. I think because it was the closest hospital that was taking AIDS cases.
He was so tired. His wife left him and moved to California. She was insulted that I asked if she was dumping him on GMHC's door. I visited him a few times. Contacted his Social worker. It was pretty hopeless in 1984. There was nothing really to be done but waste away. They would stabilize him and release him, which meant that if he kept his fever down for 48 hours, he would be sent home. It was an expensive ordeal for the hospital, providing a private room so as not to infect or be infected by other patients.
He was so tired. His wife left him and moved to California. She was insulted that I asked if she was dumping him on GMHC's door. I visited him a few times. Contacted his Social worker. It was pretty hopeless in 1984. There was nothing really to be done but waste away. They would stabilize him and release him, which meant that if he kept his fever down for 48 hours, he would be sent home. It was an expensive ordeal for the hospital, providing a private room so as not to infect or be infected by other patients.
Geoffrey Cox - July 15, 1988
Geoffrey -
Geoffrey was sort of a geek. He was quiet, thin with a great big smile, blond hair that was destined to thin quickly. He was very bright and very independent, almost furtive. When I met him at McGill, little did I know he was a world class scholar and athlete. From there he went to London to the London School of Economics. In the summer, he would intern at Wimbledon as a line-judge.
Funny - he went all over the world and ended up on the first floor of my coop on 11th Street, and an investment banker at First Boston. When he got sick, they did right by him and granted his disability status. He did well for a while, but over a few months, his body just ground to halt and he was ravaged with opportunistic infections.
Geoffrey was sort of a geek. He was quiet, thin with a great big smile, blond hair that was destined to thin quickly. He was very bright and very independent, almost furtive. When I met him at McGill, little did I know he was a world class scholar and athlete. From there he went to London to the London School of Economics. In the summer, he would intern at Wimbledon as a line-judge.
Funny - he went all over the world and ended up on the first floor of my coop on 11th Street, and an investment banker at First Boston. When he got sick, they did right by him and granted his disability status. He did well for a while, but over a few months, his body just ground to halt and he was ravaged with opportunistic infections.
Paul Rapaport - July 9, 1987
Paul -
Paul was truly a mensche. He could come across as a bit of a nebbish: short, receding hairline and a moustache that gave his face a definite mouse like appearance. All of this disappeared when he smiled, which he often did or when he put on his attorney face. The Rapaport's were leaders in the Jewish community and Paul brought this to the gay community. He and others pushed to purchase the building on 13th Street for the Gay Community Center. At the time they said we got a really bad deal on it: the old high school ran on a coal furnace and wasn't being used anyhow. The fact that we should pay for a vacant building that should have been torn down was outrageous. But, we did.
We met on some committee, somewhere. He and Tim Sweeney (Lamda Legal Defense) and Ginny Apuzzo (National Gay Task Force) met regularly for breakfast. Later others would join the breakfast: Ken Dawson (SAGE), Roger Macfarlane (GMHC).
He called himself a generalist in the community - not tied to a particular cause - and with a great deal of money and which he used throughout the community. Any worthwhile cause was considered and many owed they're birth to Paul and men like him.
http://www.paulrapoportfoundation.org/index.html
Paul was truly a mensche. He could come across as a bit of a nebbish: short, receding hairline and a moustache that gave his face a definite mouse like appearance. All of this disappeared when he smiled, which he often did or when he put on his attorney face. The Rapaport's were leaders in the Jewish community and Paul brought this to the gay community. He and others pushed to purchase the building on 13th Street for the Gay Community Center. At the time they said we got a really bad deal on it: the old high school ran on a coal furnace and wasn't being used anyhow. The fact that we should pay for a vacant building that should have been torn down was outrageous. But, we did.
We met on some committee, somewhere. He and Tim Sweeney (Lamda Legal Defense) and Ginny Apuzzo (National Gay Task Force) met regularly for breakfast. Later others would join the breakfast: Ken Dawson (SAGE), Roger Macfarlane (GMHC).
He called himself a generalist in the community - not tied to a particular cause - and with a great deal of money and which he used throughout the community. Any worthwhile cause was considered and many owed they're birth to Paul and men like him.
http://www.paulrapoportfoundation.org/index.html
Steve Perrine - June 13, 1996
Steve may be one of the reasons I moved to New York. He was a big ol' Texas boy with thick black Gaulic hair and shiny blue eyes - just a stunningly handsome man, even without the cowboy boots & jeans.
I can't even recall if I slept with Steve, or if I was just awestruck with beauty. I'm pretty sure we did sleep together some time when I was a visitor to the city and moving to the city was a step towards meeting and courting Steve or a man like Steve.
We hung out at Julius's. It was the first bar to have huge open windows onto the street. Inside was a long Victorian oak bar with a foot-rail of brass dachshunds protecting feet and briefcases. Opposite the bar was a grill which served one of the best hamburgers in the city. In the back were a few tables. It was a friendly neighborhood gay-bar: a good happy hour crowd that would meet and catch up on the news of the day; on a warm summer afternoon, there might be a couple of NYU undergrads flipping Frisbees across 10th Street; in the winter there would be coats hung three or four deep on the hooks along the wall.
On a weekend it would be busy all night as people came and went - the after work crowd, before dinner crowd, after theatre crowd, the late crowd, the night cappers … Sundays would bring the before- and after-brunch crowd.
Happy was my favorite bar-tender …
There was laughter and fun and even a some kissing. The old-timers were quick to remind the 'kids' that back in their day undercover cops used to come in and arrest people for soliciting if you so much as smiled at them.
The last time I was there was in the 90's and had become an old-timer myself. It was sad, pretty empty, only a couple of red-eyed old men, a couple of hustlers, a bouncer that looked at me like I was pervert.
I can't even recall if I slept with Steve, or if I was just awestruck with beauty. I'm pretty sure we did sleep together some time when I was a visitor to the city and moving to the city was a step towards meeting and courting Steve or a man like Steve.
We hung out at Julius's. It was the first bar to have huge open windows onto the street. Inside was a long Victorian oak bar with a foot-rail of brass dachshunds protecting feet and briefcases. Opposite the bar was a grill which served one of the best hamburgers in the city. In the back were a few tables. It was a friendly neighborhood gay-bar: a good happy hour crowd that would meet and catch up on the news of the day; on a warm summer afternoon, there might be a couple of NYU undergrads flipping Frisbees across 10th Street; in the winter there would be coats hung three or four deep on the hooks along the wall.
On a weekend it would be busy all night as people came and went - the after work crowd, before dinner crowd, after theatre crowd, the late crowd, the night cappers … Sundays would bring the before- and after-brunch crowd.
Happy was my favorite bar-tender …
There was laughter and fun and even a some kissing. The old-timers were quick to remind the 'kids' that back in their day undercover cops used to come in and arrest people for soliciting if you so much as smiled at them.
The last time I was there was in the 90's and had become an old-timer myself. It was sad, pretty empty, only a couple of red-eyed old men, a couple of hustlers, a bouncer that looked at me like I was pervert.
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