Freddie Mercury, Rock Hudson, Gia Carangi, Isaac Asimov, Michel Foucault, Anthony Perkins, Leigh Bowery, Robert Reed, Arthur Ashe, Easy-E, Michael Lupo, Tony Richardson, Peter McWilliams, Denholt Eliott, Cazuza, Dac Rambo, Peter Allen, Tom Waddell, Jerry Smith, Pedro Zamora, Michael Jeter, Glenn Burke, John Curry, Roy Cohn, Howard Asher, Essex Hemphill, Slyvester, Ian Charleston, Kieth Herring, Andy Miligan, Vito Russo, Jon Hinson, Arthur Russell, Derick Johnson, Alvin Ailey, Steve Rubell, Brian Pockar, Rudolf Nureyev, Tim Richmond, Ondrej Nepela, Alan Bloom, Bruce Chatwin, Tommy Sexton, Tina Chow, Warren Chow, Warren Casey, John Boswell, Randy Shilts, Marlon Riggs, James Kirkwood, Cyril Collard, Eric Bruhn, David Wojnarowicz, Tom Villard, Jack Baker, Simon Bailey, Kenny Everett, Arturo Islas, Perry Ellis, Ron Vawter, Nicky Crane, Guy Hocquenghem, Paddy Chew, Tom Preston, Tony de Vit, Kevin Hall, Vincent Hanley, Kenny Green, Wili Smith, Michael Callen, Robin Crowsby

Those are just *some* of the famous names.

The ones that hurt, really hurt, were the ones you never heard of.

Jeff D, Doug B, Kelly F, Joe S, Kevin S, Cole J, Marc C and so many more...

They were the brothers, lovers, cousins, old friends, acquaintances and old flames.

They were the ones you lost track of until their names marched by in the obituaries.

I first started hearing about 'the Gay Plague' soon after I turned 18. I was listening to NPR on a Sunday afternoon after going home for a weekend.

It kept coming up. It was mysterious and frightening. No one knew what it was. The scientist thought it was a virus but they couldn't isolate it. I knew one thing- we were in trouble.

There was a ton of denial. We're in Mississippi. Whatever it is, it's in the big cities like San Francisco and New York. We've got nothing to worry about. Right. Because viruses respect lines on maps?

I became an activist of sorts. I started working with some people I knew to promote safe sex. We handed out God knows how many condoms.

Then it started in earnest.

I can't describe the weird combination of fear and denial and panic that I saw around me. People were still fucking around like crazy. I guess it was like the people on the Titanic that kept on partying until the ship went under.

It broke my heart. It drove me bat shit cRaZy. After the one, the one I would have happily married and spent my life with, died in 1996. I crawled in a bottle and spent those lost years in an haze of booze and weed.

It took me years to get my shit back together. I lost so much along the way. Oct. 1, 2003 I decided to live again.

It took a shrink. It took some guts. But I'm alive again.

I've never liked to lose. It takes a while to figure out that there really isn't a score. As long as you're alive, you are winning as long as you just don't quit.

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1996 a poem about those years ==> https://www.gayauthors.org/story/jamessavik/1996