2002-07-22 - 3:54 a.m.
In the past two days I've read Randy Shilts' And the Band Played On, a 600-page account of the people and politics from the origins of AIDS in the late '70s to 1987, when it was published. It includes accounts of gay life in the '70s and '80s, and how the men who practiced promiscuous sex guilt-free in that time all died horrible deaths. All I can think on reflection is, if I was 20 years older, that would have been me. Period.
I checked it out of the New College Library, and found the inside cover was a little unusual. It contained a sticker indicating it was a donation:
On the opposite page, there is a handwritten note:USF/New College Library
at Sarasota
gift of
JARED MASSANARI
2.9.90I ran this by two other occupants of the Leeta House, and they both thought, holy fuck, this guy was given this book for deeply sentimental reasons by someone he knew who was, apparently, dying of AIDS, and then he turns around and donates it to the library?!
Dear Jared,
My story is in these pages. Thank you for walking with me on this difficult joyous journey
Love
David
Actually, I'm inclined to think that he thought others could learn from this cautionary tale, and if so, he's right. I wouldn't be reading it if it wasn't for this copy, as the other three copies the library owns are lost or reported missing.
I would be derelict in my journalistic capacity if I failed to relate the following, unrelated anecdote. Last night, Monday, a group of us went to the Castle in Tampa for '80s night. It was not particularly exciting, although I'm told by more-regular attendees that it was still a low-key night by Castle standards. (We'd gone the previous week for 'Trance-sylvania'--get it?--and that was a major bust.)
At the club, after I'd consumed many gin and tonics, I began to become very accepting, and to feel like I didn't hate the club and the world. It felt, for a brief moment, like I was rolling. I recalled an article from the New York Times in which alcoholics studied had a serotonin imbalance that drinking restored, producing in fact a surge in Serotonin. But the club was not that exciting anyway, although we did run into Kat and Rat.
But it was all worthwhile after we left, when Dani reminded bird, who was driving, that she was nearly out of gas. We pulled into a gas station while still in Ybor, just off the expressway, and since bird the designated driver hadn't brought her wallet, I volunteered to pay for and pump the gas. Pav got out to use the bathroom.
Just as I had inserted the pump into her VW bug, however, a yellow sports car pulled up to the pump on the other side. What followed happened to quickly for memories to really sink in. Two large black men jumped out. One headed right for me and suddenly got in my face.
"Hey man, we're from Polk County and we're on X!" he yelled at me. Then he threw his arms around me and hugged me tightly. I let go of the gas pump. He started telling me about how wonderful the world is, how he loved everyone and everything and that most definitely included me and everyone in my car. I looked at him smiling and nodding in agreement, as it was too sudden and his manner to genuine for me to really get threatened. Also, I was still drunk from the Castle. He was telling me that if I ever needed drugs in Lakeland, to go to a specific club and ask for John, that he could get us weed or X or anything. That's great, I said, somewhat genuinely.
I turned away to finish pumping the gas, and in an instant he shot by me and went into the car through the passenger side door that was still open, and got into the backseat with Dani. Oh shit, I though, wondering if she would scream or what, although I myself felt strangely disarmed. I got my receipt from the machine, and Pav came back from the bathroom. In the thought process that well, we can't let this interfere with our getting gas and getting on the road, I said to him, "You're going to have to get out of the car now."
He was tremendously enthusiastic about that suggestion, and jumped out, telling us some more about how much he loved us and the world. "There's no discrimination!" he said as we drove off. "We're all God's children!"
When we got back on the expressway, I reflected that it was totally the wrong way to handle the situation. Here an apparent drug dealer who was on an incredible amount of ecstasy had come right up to us, and my reaction was to brush him off as fast as possible. That is not the sort of experience that happens every day. Hell, we might have even scored drugs, at some point now or in the future.
