I'm not wired in the head quite right.
On Thursdays I host a Gay community affairs radio show on WRSU 88.7 Fm.
I also write and make visual art.
I was exposed to HIV in the early 1980's. The health is good.
I figured that was the important stuff to get out of the way.
I'm artistic and a procrastinator. I like to write and have gotten essays published in a couple of online journals and zines.
Other compulsions include growing plants; gardens or containers. Bonsai and Zen design are also an interest.
Who am I?
Well I've been described as the elder of the local punk rock scene.
Some of the friends I've known since graduating high school told me that I helped during rough time, sometimes just by being an example.
A friend who was extremely homophobic sent me a message on the day marriage equality was passed in NJ. He said I'd opened his eyes and ended with, "You're a good person."
And I was once told that I have "a gentle soul."
OK. I will update and fine tune this some time later.
I'll leave you with this. I carry a copy of the letter below in my wallet. It never fails to move and inspire me.
Letter from photographer Ansel Adams to his Brother Cedric.
A strange thing happened to me today.
I saw a big thundercloud move down over Half Dome,
and it was so big and clear and brilliant that it made me see many things that were drifting around inside of me; things that relate to those who are loved and those who are real friends. For the first time I know what love is; what friends are; and what art should be.
Love is a seeking for a way of life; the way that cannot be followed alone; the resonance of all spiritual and physical things...
Friendship is another form of love -- more passive perhaps,
but full of the transmitting and acceptances of things
like thunderclouds and grass and the clean granite of reality.
Art is both love and friendship and understanding: the desire to give. It is not charity, which is the giving of things. It is more than kindness, which is the giving of self. It is both the taking and giving of beauty, the turning out to the light of the inner folds of the awareness of the spirit.
It is a recreation on another plane of the realities of the world; the tragic and wonderful realities of earth and men,
and of all the interrelations of these.