Shampoo, Rinse, Repeat

It was my usual Friday. Work, gym, quick dinner, shower, shave, get dressed, art, glass of wine, tub soak and bed.

The final Friday program at the DAM was one of the best so far. I watched the casting of bronze sculptures outside of the Hamilton building and then listened to a fascinating conservation lecture on maintaining outdoor sculptures. I never knew outdoor sculptures need so much care. Next up was a short play performed in the freight elevator by the Buntport Theater group. Finally, I checked out the new cardboard and Styrofoam packing material installation on the third floor of the Hamilton building. The Styrofoam wall sculpture was like a present day interpretation of a Louise Nevelson monochromatic wall piece. The installation was quite impressive making it one of the highlights of the evening.

It’s Saturday so I need to get rolling with a long list of errands before dinner at Tom & Sheila’s.

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It Was My Life

I watched The Normal Heart on demand this week. It was like ripping a scab off a healing wound. I had tears in my eyes for most of the two hours. The HBO production resurrected the horror of the early eighties in the gay community. This was my life. I watched friends die, some in isolation wards so I could not say goodbye. I lost my partner, and my two best friends, along with a long list of other friends. I have an old address book that contains names of men who died. I can’t bring myself to open it.

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I Don’t Get It

I’ve been to two dinners that were attended by W and his partner, who are friends of a friend. The dinners were small with about eight people. W was friendly and engaging in conversation.

When I see W at the gym he ignores me. I’ll greet him and he doesn’t respond. I’m not interrupting his workout. I’m just saying hello as I pass him. We’re about the same age so it’s not like I’m the old guy preying on a pretty young thing.

Am I not worthy of being associated with him because his body looks like it was lifted out of workout magazine and I have an average physique? He’s not closeted so it’s not like I’m outing him by having a conversation at the gym. I don’t understand why he is warm and friendly in a dinner party situation but cold as an iceberg at the gym. Double A told me he gets the same treatment. I don’t want to hang out with W. I’m just trying to be friendly. I’ve shared two meals with this man. Why would I not greet him when I see him at the gym? I really don’t get this behavior.

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How Big Is It?

All day I was trying to come up with something to do tonight to kick off the holiday weekend. With no plans I headed to the gym after work. I picked up this week’s Westword and hopped on the treadmill. There was a blurb in the Westword announcing a Stephen Batura show opening tonight at Ironton Gallery in RiNo. Batura is one of my favorite local artists, but unfortunately, his work is priced out of my reach. The show is one painting 110 feet long consisting of 17 panels. This is something I have to see. I’ll be off to see this show in a bit.

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Can you say spoiled?

The people who live catty-corner to my house have three kids in grade school. They have a live in nanny and employ a houseman. The kids requested and received a dog. Can you guess who picks up the dog poop? Not the house man. Not the nanny. Not the kids. They have service that picks up the dog turds on a regular basis. Can you say spoiled?

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The Price Of HIV

This month marks my 30th anniversary of living with HIV. I was twenty-seven when I was told I should get my affairs in order because I had six months to live. I’m still here. Thirty years of doctor appointments, blood test, minor health scares, cancer, drugs, drugs and more drugs. Here’s the cost for a ninety day supply of the drugs I currently take:

Presizta $2850.17 copay 550.00
Norvir $949.79 copay 550.00
Truvada $3191.96 copay 550.00
Isentress 2231.00 copay 550.00

HIV is not cheap. New federal guidelines urge people who have unprotected sex to take a daily dose of Truvada to curb HIV infections and AIDS (pre-exposure prophylaxis, or PrEP for short). I’ve also heard PrEP referred to as a profit-driven sex toy for rich Westerners. I question if people will really pay the Truvada copay if they are having unprotected sex. I’m sure other people with better insurance plans and lower copays may be more motivated to a take Truvada. But what about the uninsured?

I don’t advocate having unprotected sex. I don’t want anyone to experience what I have gone through in the last thirty years. There have been countless drug side-affects along with the anxiety over T-cell counts and viral loads. Living with a compromised immune system means always fearing a simple illness can turn into a serious health crisis or even death. There’s also AIDS-related stigma and discrimination. The risk of infection is not really worth the few minutes of pleasure. The price of HIV exceeds the monetary commitment.

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In A Funk

Today is the last day of production cycle. Mr. I took the day off and left me with his last two projects to analyze. I don’t mind helping him out but the least he could do is send me an email letting me know he needs help. The projects showed up this morning in my tracking system queue. It should only take a few hours to bang them out so it will help the day go by faster.

In other work news, a Business Requirements manager was fired this week. He had provided the requirements on three of my projects so his firing made my week chaotic. The software engineer on the projects filled in for the fired manager to help keep the projects on track. I feel the guy who was fired was set up for failure with little training or mentoring. He was continually thrown under the bus the software engineer who filled in for him upon his departure. There’s nothing like professionally trashing a person and then volunteering to assume their duties when they get fired. I stayed out of the fray not wanted to get involved in office politics since I’m just a hired whore. I would not be surprised if he sues the company. Now there’s a battle over which side of the pond will house his replacement.

I’m in a funk today. I’m over the work politics and I’m tired of spending so much time by myself. I called Jackie to see if she want to meet up but she’s in Texas shooting oil refineries and railroad facilities. Cindi’s setting up for a wedding in Cherry Hills Village and spending the night in a comped room at the Four Seasons with Joe. Fritz is missing in action while double A is going to temple. Mike and Chris are meeting Sharky for dinner. It looks like I’m flying solo tonight.

I’m thinking about going to the Clyfford Still Museum tonight to see the recreation of his landmark 1959 exhibition at the Albright-Knox Art Gallery. Looking at art always puts me in a good mood.

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I’m A Rude Son

My mother’s twin brother died on Monday night. My mother will not return my calls. She told my brother I was rude to her during our phone conversation on Mother’s Day. And she wonders why I moved away thirty-two years ago.

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I Got A Bad One

Last week my mother told me she really missed eating seafood, especially fried shrimp. I made arrangements for my nephew to take my parents to Red Lobster as a Mother’s Day gift. On Sunday when I told my mother about my arrangements she came up with ten excuses why she could not, and would not, go to Red Lobster, or any other seafood restaurant. I was dumbfounded. Only days earlier she told me she would really like to have fried shrimp yet when I make arrangements for her to have fried shrimp she refuses to go. What a bitch!

I read many blog posts by other bloggers about their wonderful mothers and their special loving relationships. I envy those bloggers. I didn’t get one of the good ones. I got a passive-aggressive mother who’s a master at manipulation. I try to do something that I thought she would appreciate but she wants to part of it. I don’t know why I even tried.

She has hated every gift I’ve sent her in recent history. She wanted fudge for her birthday. I sent several pounds of fudge from Rocky Mountain Chocolate Factory. She didn’t like it. My brother and sil took the fudge home and enjoyed it. My mother wanted divinity without nuts for Christmas. I sent her a package from a candy company in New Mexico. It was the only supplier online I could find that offered a nut-free option. She hated the divinity. She said it was the worst thing she ever ate. She threw it in the trash.

No matter what I do I can’t win with this woman. It’s no wonder my mother doesn’t have any friends.

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Snow

It’s May 11th and it’s snowing. The forecast calls for four to nine inches of accumulation. The trees have leafed out so there’s a good chance of losing power as branches break and fall on power lines. Welcome to spring in Colorado.

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