Spencer Quest’s Blog

I finally deactivated my Facebook account. 

I’ve had it for almost two years; it’ll be two years in April because I created it the week I left rehab.  It seemed a great idea at the time especially as I already had a myspace account which was nothing but frustrating (deleted long ago).  Facebook was a godsend, and given the importance of wanting to stay in touch with all of my new rehab buddies, it seemed like a great relapse prevention strategy.  Just like being able to go to an AA meeting, it would be possible to interact with others in times of need but in a virtual setting.  No more need to deal with individual emails, Facebook would surely help simplify my life.  After all, I already had a blog and website both of which were partly responsible for driving me full speed into rehab in the first place–I was obsessed with building my site, making it interactive, holding chats, answering emails, doing everything possible to make sure anyone who reached out to me would get not just a brief ‘thanks’ but a well thought out and thorough reply. 

I went to about 3 ‘program’ meetings after rehab and signed into Facebook about the same number of times.  Before I relapsed that is.  And ever since, I would forget it even existed until an occasional “friend request” would filter through my email.  Then I’d be wracked with guilt, and I’d think about signing on again.  But after doing that a year after initially creating the account, I was completely overwhelmed with all of the comments, postings and stupid invitations littered throughout my homepage.  The repeated invitations were just annoying, but the actual comments and emails were devastating.  All these people out there reaching out, wondering if I was okay, and never getting a reply.  And some of these people profoundly changed my life in the short time I spent with them in rehab.  What’s a person to do when faced by their angels and demons and still in the midst of relapse and recovery?  Ignore it all. 

Then forget.  I remembered I had an account a few months ago when the ‘friend requests’ started to come in again.  I continued to ignore them simply because I wasn’t using the site and hoped there would be some sort of indicator on Facebook like there is on Manhunt (this person last logged in on…. etc).   If people saw I hadn’t been logged in in months they may not be insulted if I didn’t reply or respond.  I still don’t know if there is such a thing which is why today i finally took the step of deleting my account–I didn’t want to hurt anyone else. 

Obviously, if I don’t accept your invitation, it IS a direct insult.    A friend taught me this.  This friend from overseas wrote me an email in September because I had sent out a bulk mailing asking for donations for one of my charity rides.  He was so incensed that I hadn’t responded to his Facebook friend request that he tried to rip me a new asshole for daring to include him in a bulk email (even if it was for charity).  I was dumbfounded.  Hell, I hadn’t even accepted my sister’s request to be a friend–the account, in my mind, was just sitting there unused.  But it was still dangerous and hurting people while I remained clueless.  So today it had to go.   

I tend to get a few direct emails like this too.  And blog comments.  Why haven’t I responded, etc.  I finally just wrote an automated response for spencer@spencerquest.com because I needed to alleviate the pressure I put on myself to respond and the guilt I feel if I don’t.  It seems to satisfy most, but for some it’s still not enough.  I DO read my emails, and eventually, I will try to respond.  But I may not ever.  I can only hope that if someone cared enough to write, they will appreciate the fact that their email IS being read and that I may respond.

I suppose in this spirit of giving, I’ve been thinking about this a lot.  About how some people use the holidays as a way of getting back.  They give because they expect a return–even though they may insist that’s not the case.  But when they return home after a family exchange and secretly bash the crap gift they got from so-n-so to their spouse, their true colors come out. 

It’s the same for communication.  Some people expect others to give.  Why haven’t you called me?  Why haven’t you written.  There are those who complain even without having made an effort to reach out, but they aren’t so bad.  The worst are those who reach out because they expect or deserve a return on their investment.  Places like Facebook feed off that sort of communication manipulation.  In a world where we feel like we’re somebody because of the number of friends we have on myspace or facebook, it’s no wonder people get caught up in this silly game of self-important-internet-insult. 

But it doesn’t mean I’m going to play or answer or care if you get pissed off because I didn’t or haven’t responded. 

Those who really care about me will wait.  I have to thank Rik who commented on a recent entry because his reply validates everything I’ve always believed about true friendship.  We connect–time passes–we connect again.  We all have busy lives, and if we are blessed enough to have connected in the first place, it’ll happened again.  When it happens.  No amount of coersion, guilt, txt messages, or ‘invitations’ are going to change the simple destiny of two souls meeting again because it’s meant to be.  And we’ll pick up right where we left off. 

L sent me a CNN article months ago, and I’ve been saving this link because I knew I’d eventually offer it up to you.  We all get lots of crap forwarded to us in our email, but I have to say this article, first seen on the Oprah site, was perhaps the single most important email attachment I have ever received.  More than all those wonderful heartfelt forwarded stories put together or funny jokes or cartoons.

Please take the time to read it.  Then free yourself from the guilt and the squids.  You have the right to DISCONNECT!

Peace. 

To all those who haven’t given up on me, a big thanks.  It’s always great to see comments on the entries whether they agree, disagree, challenge or critique or even condemn.  I’m in VT right now with L–took advantage of having another training in Boston last Thursday and one in Worcester next Tuesday.  Decided to spend my birthday up here; an appropriate “healthy” choice given VT’s new title as “Healthiest State” in the nation.  Life is different up here and yet awfully similar to life on the Lower Cape; we had to drive an hour to Littleton, NH in order to shop (Hyannis is about the same from Provinetown).

Anyway, I checked in on the blog this morning and read some comments and felt inclined to comment on Jeff’s in particular.  I totally agree with him and his stance on World AIDS Day, but I also wanted to clarify my thoughs on how insular our country is.  I wanted my focus to be on the notion that most people in this country can’t see beyond its borders.  That’s why people are still dying by the scores in 3rd World nations; that’s why genocide is still an option for some of those very same countries.  I wanted to focus in on my shame for losing site of that along my journey.  Having lived in S. Africa and holding the continent close to my heart, I am ashamed I trivialized the risks of HIV when I was engaging in those high risk behaviors.  And as grateful as I am for having spent my 3 pos years living in a state that truly takes care of its HIV+ citizens, I continued to engage in those same behaviors from sex to drugs.  Instead of covering my health costs during that time, I wonder how many lives those same funds would have SAVED in a 3rd world country.

I understand we can’t compare us to them, but I believe the intention of World AIDS Day is to do just that–get us comfy Americans to think outside our box and borders. 

Again, given Prop 8, learning more about Prop 6 and the amazing life of Harvey Milk (another blog), I am shocked we are where we are right now.  But then again, I’m not.  What I want to note is that the ’shame’ I feel has NOTHING to do with being gay.  Nothing.  I’ve never felt ashamed. I came out at 14-15 in ‘83 in Republican Lancaster Co, PA, and never questioned or doubted myself about my sexuality or my place in this country as a gay man.  The shame surrounding my HIV status also has nothing to do with being gay–it’s around the specific choices I made.  My being gay wasn’t a choice.  And because I’ve lived my life so openly, I’ve never, ever felt ‘less than.’  I would never let anyone make me feel less than. 

When the Multicultural Division of Pittsburgh Public Schools was teaching me how to represent them in the district, I stopped them, came out, and insisted they add me to their “minority” list.  And they did.  Whenever I’ve taken a stand, people have listened and accepted me–doesn’t mean they understand or condone, but they’ve accepted “me.” 

And while I spent the better part of my adult life coming out, I’ve stopped doing it because I don’t even see it as an issue anymore.  I’ve spent weeks this fall in work trainings, and I typically skip the gay thing and go right for the meat:  I’m an addict, I’m pos, I used to exchange sex for money, etc. because those are the important factors in the work that I do.  I suppose what I’m saying is that I’ve always been an ‘activist’ of sorts in that I haven’t allowed a perceived stigma around being gay to rule my life.  Instead, I’ve always tried to break down the stereotypes by being as openly honest about all aspect of ‘me.’ 

Thus, when it came down to celebrating World AIDS Day, I wanted to note that, even though Prop 8 happened, even though there are still gay bashings, even though there is hatred for “us,” I have it pretty damn good because I insist on it.  And I’ve taken advantage of it in positive and negative ways.  For me, it’s important to start thinking globally instead of continuing to make egocentric choices simply because I CAN make them and because I live in this county and don’t have to die as a result of those choices.  People are dying in other countries because they don’t have a choice.  And while I won’t go so far as to say my ’shame’ or guilt prevents me from enjoying all the plenty we have including food while others are starving in the world, I will continue to remind those out there that the game of Russian Roulette they are playing with their sexual behavior wouldn’t be so fun if they were living in another country, or even in Porto Rico.  There, the bullet could kill them.

Again, thanks for the comments.  Thanks for checking in.  If you’ve emailed, and I haven’t responded yet–I’m sorry.  Again, I get overwhelmed and simply can’t keep up at times.  Then I go into self-care mode which means silence and distance.  I will get back to you all though. 

Peace.

What could possibly make me come back to blog after yet another month-long hiatus? I wasn’t sure if I had it in me. It’s been a tough fall-November, yet another tough month. And now I’m looking back to my pathetic lack of consistency and dedication to a project I thought had some significance in my life, this blog, and I’m once again hoping for some salvation. Fortunately, I’m aware enough to realize the ‘project’ most significant in my life IS my life and not some self-created obligation which only succeeds in making me feel guilty when I don’t follow through by blogging more regularly. And so I’ve been focusing on my life. Self-care, etc.

So what brings me back, albeit a day late? World AIDS Day. What did I do? Considering the extent to which some went out of their way to mark the occasion, I did very little. I could have taken part in the lighting of luminaries across the country, but the honest truth is I would have felt hypocritical doing so. One person I knew died of AIDS, a distant cousin I might have met twice. So my memorializing those gone would have been a bit of a farce. Yes, I rode with my cousin’s name on my helmet this September in the Braking the Cycle ride, but those events were mostly for the living. While riding in honor of someone meant a lot for so many, we were riding for the living. We were raising money for the living. We were raising money for people…..like me. HIV positive.

But do I deserve it? I tell you, for the past three years I’ve received free health care from the State of Massachuesetts strictly because I am positive. I have saved hundreds if not thousands of dollars while burdening the taxpayers of MA because I am positive. And my becoming positive was utterly preventable. I was careless, I was stupid, I was selfish, I was self-destructive, I was high. And my reward was a basically manageable disease that cost taxpayers a lot of money.

The least I could do this summer was raise some funds to offset the money given to me through direct health care and client care services. I believe I may have covered the past three years of being on MassHealth through those 3 events. But my riding and swimming did nothing, NOTHING for the thousands of people who are dying outside our prescription protected borders. People are dying, children are dying or being orphaned while others like me can go out and have unprotected, careless sex because it ‘feels better,’ because it’s more ‘intimate.’ I am lucky. You are lucky if you’re living in this country–especially in states that protect the positive. But what got us here? Do we deserve such good care while other nations bury Citizens of AIDS by the millions?

So on World AIDS Day, I wondered: What did I, what did we, our country, do for the world? What did you do for the world? Did you go out, stick your unwrapped dick up an ass and think nothing of it? Or did you take that dick because you so needed some male approval you couldn’t refuse and certainly couldn’t talk about it? When are we going to wake up? When are we going to start talking? Some of us walk around, cruise ManHunt and Craigslist like it is our right to become POS. Think about that. Think about that 8 yr old South African child who is now the head of the household of 4 siblings and who has to worry what will happen to them when he dies. Because he is infected and will die.

Just think next time you conclude a little semen is worth the risk. No, you won’t have to die because of it. But someone else will.

I can’t begin to catch you up on the past weeks.  Just the fact that I haven’t blogged or posted info on the play until now, before our last weekend, should be evidence that I’ve been crazed.  I’ll leave “crazed” open for interpretation because I’ve probably gone through all its definitions at one point or another in the past month.  It hasn’t been pretty. 

 

BUT, the play is fucking incredible.  Period.  We’ve gone through 7 performances over the past two weeks to rave reviews.  It is a play unlike most have ever seen.  And David Drake has created a genius production that flows, shocks, and evokes myriad emotions from the actors and audience.  Minimalistic in set and costume, it’s stark appearance simply magnifies his wonderful casting choices. Seriously, each of my 4 colleagues is brilliant in his/her part. 

Unfortunately, fall in Ptown is tough.  The crowds have been sparse which threatens the viability of doing this sort of year-round theater at the Art House.  It’s a true shame that we can barely get local audiences to come let alone lower-cape or Boston audiences.  It’s truly a one-chance opportunity to see this sort of play.  I hope if you’re within driving distance, you’ll make the journey.  It’s worth it. 

Check out the Cape Cod Times review of the show.  She came on our second night (all actors will groan with understanding) and gave it a very positive review. 

This has been a difficult production for me.  I have to start questioning, does Art imitate Life or Life imitate Art?  I’m still trying to figure that one out. 

 

 

So I prepared you for some more meaningful blogs, but before I can do that, I must close out the month of September.  And nothing could be more meaningful than this month–meaningful in more ways than I can possible relate.  I’m mostly going to just post pictures because it would take me a book to describe the impact the 3 events had on me, and I’m sure I’ll be relating stories for a while.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Despite the Tropical storm barreling down on us, the rain held long enough for us to accomplish a 3 year goal to do this swim together.  Luckily, the air and water temp were still warm–warm enough for me to swim w/out a wetsuit.  My mother even took hers off during the swim as it was too confining; she was determined to do the entire 1.4 miles backstroke!  And she did it.  C and I became pilot fish to keep her on track, and we did in fact all finish together.

It was an amazing chance for bonding and healing.  The swim took place 3 years after getting my positive diagnosis and 3 years after a very difficult time sharing that information with my mother.  I’m really proud of her and how we have both grown over the past 3 years.  As she said, her memories of Provincetown have now been able to evolve into ones of hope, love, and happiness.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

The Harbor to the Bay was a challenge.  It happened two weeks after the swim and after two weeks’ worth of work trainings in Boston which had left me exhausted and sick.  It was an exercise in determination as nothing seemed to be going right.  From the cancelled afternoon ferry (the only time this season the ferry was cancelled due to high seas) to the 11pm late night ride through Boston to my hotel, from the 4 hrs of sleep to the hemorrhoids and herpes outbreak, from the lack of coffee to the forgotten allergy medicine to the elusive morning bowel movement that didn’t come until mile 80, I was determined to get this ride under my belt and to do so with hope and optimism.  I was proudly wearing the red jersey of the Pos Peds which proclaims on the back, “eliminating stigma by our positive example,” and the weather was beautiful.  And despite not feeling in top shape health-wise, physically in the saddle I felt strong. 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

I realized quickly I was in pretty good condition after taking the lead early on.  Go figure, 300 plus riders and I was up front.  There was also a 3-some of guys who I figured for a team–competitive, I could tell, as they wouldn’t let up off my back.  I finally let them go ahead of me and started riding with them, and while they were drafting off each other, I was careful not to do the same.  I had made it clear to some other riders that I needed to do this ride as an individual–it was a personal journey, and I therefore didn’t want to be a part of a team other than being a “Pos Ped.” 

I suppose, given we were essentially riding way ahead of anyone else, we became just that, a make-shift team, but it was also clear as I sat at the back, that I was stronger when it came to the climbs.  I was holding back, and it eventually started to bug me.  So I took off on the biggest climb we had–about 10 miles from the halfway point, the Sagamore Bridge which crossed the Cape Cod Canal.  For me, it became more important to do what I had intended to do–use this ride as a training ride, and to have a Red jersey-wearing-Pos Ped first to the halfway mark, than it was to continue riding with these three guys out of some sort of impromptu brotherhood.  I guess some of them didn’t feel that way, as one hurt ego said to me once he caught up, “that was a shitty thing to do back there.”  Guess we were on the ride for different reasons, and while I apologized for meaning no harm in my own ride and aggressiveness, it certainly struck a nerve and made me question my own motivation.  Of course I’m competitive, of course it’s about doing my personal best, but for me, I would have done an injustice to myself had I not gone out to do exactly what I intended to do.  Train hard!  I was preparing for a 300/3 day ride to take place in 6 days, so I did what I had to do.  I needed to find out what I was capable of doing.  I’m glad I apologized and had to laugh when I immediately got stuck with a flat after crossing the bridge (God’s trying to tell you something!), but I don’t regret pulling ahead and showing myself and those riders what a Pos Ped could do.  I finished the 125 miles in under 8 hours (again, after being delayed a full 45 minutes without enough air  in my changed tire) and literally crumbled sobbing into a colleagues arms at the finish line.  I slept about 14 hours that night, and while I felt good physically the day after, I began to doubt my ability to do what I had just done 3 days in a row.  Which I needed to do in 6 days. 

The Braking the Cycle ride started in Gettysburg the following Friday, September 26.  Yes, it rained every day.  275 miles in the rain or at least in some form of precipitation whether that was rain, mist, drizzle, or road spray.  After an emotional Opening ceremony, we took off through the battlefields and started our treck to Lancaster, my birthplace.  The first day was all about my father’s side of the family; I had stopped to see my grandmother the day before, who still lives in York County, and our route eventually passed within a few hundred yards of her again.  We traveled on roads I knew well from years of going to my grandparents in Adams and York Counties.  Eventually we crossed the Susquehanna, and it became about my mother’s side of the family.  My mother and father were from sister cities: Lancaster, the Red Rose city, and York, the White Rose city.  And both these damn counties are nothing but HILLS!  Add to that all the cow and horse manure which mixes nicely with rain, and you get a lovely paste that would rival any natural spa mud.  But it was home.  C had dropped me off in Gburg and would be waiting at the finish line on day one; my mother was looking to see me at an earlier Oasis, but eventually, I ended up seeing them both at the end of day one.  Again, competitive, I landed in early with only about 10 riders coming in before me. 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

I pushed myself hard that day, and again started to question my ability to do the same thing the next day.  I realized I had to pace myself–first day was only 91 miles, second was going to be closer to 110.  And luckily, I had my mother, step-father, and even best friend from high school showing up along the way at various spots.  It was great and wondefully encouraging.  And I also had some terrific women, equally competitive, who kindly set a great pace for me.  Again, came in with only about 8 people ahead of me on day two.  Seemed like the easy part (81miles) would be a piece of cake the next day. 

 

And essentially it was.  Until I took my spill on wet RR tracks 5 miles before lunch (God trying to tell you something….AGAIN!.)  I had been bookin’ and was the 2nd into the lunch stop, mile 53, but I was also covered in blood from the roadrash I received skidding across those tracks.  Fortunately, a sweetheart, Scott, was right behind me and suggested we ride out together after I got bandanged up.  I was naturally a bit wary of even getting on my bike again especially knowing we had 30 miles of NJ street traffic to look forward to.  Without his help, it would have been a rough last couple of hours.   As it was, it was great.  As he jokingly “mothered” me through, I was so grateful and happy to not only have the support but also to have found someone who matched my own physical abilities. We finished 3rd and 4th.  So THAT’s what being on a team is about!  See, I’m learning. 

It was an emotional return to NYC after riding the ferry across the Hudson.  I had to skip the closing party as I was utterly exhausted, sore, and still oozing blood.  But the closing ceremony was touching and wonderful.  130+ riders raised over $414,000 for the Center.  That is INCREDIBLE.  It was an amazing experience, and amazing month, but now I’m left with a dilemma.  So’s my mom.  She’s thinking about crewing next year for the ride which will take us back over the original rides’ route:  Boston to NYC.  But it’s the same weekend as the Swim4Life which also happens to be my mother’s birthday!  Guess I’ll let her choose what she wants to do, but I’m gunning for the bike ride. 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

What can i say other than, “It’s good to be the King!”

Yes, the summer has ended with a furious rush of activities including our closing week with the show, the start of a new one, Carnival in Ptown, and a dozen or so other bits added to the mix.  The following is a brief update so that I can get it all out of the way before I settle down to do some ‘real’ blogging.  Meaning, I need to get back on my soapbox and write the sort of entries I started with.  While I want to keep everyone up-to-date on my comings and goings, they, in themselves, don’t consititute a blog.  As I spend more and more time training for my bike rides, I’ve had time to reflect and write in my head.  I’d like to start getting that stuff down–the real stuff, the meaningful stuff. 

Anyway, here’s the update.  Carnival came and went.  Was voted King of Carnival (see pix:  CARNIVAL) not because of a popularity contest or because of my charm but because I happen to raise the most money for charity the night of the Opening Party.  My Queen, Patience, did the same.  And dispite the fact there were two Queens riding in the car with me, there was really only one QUEEN:  Patience.  The week was a blur full of friends, old and new, braving the streets in a loin cloth, and proudly doing outreach with the message on my back:  What’s your sign?  I’m +  Get Tested!

The play closed the following week.  Many thanks to all who donated to my bucket for the 3 charity events.  I was able to raise $1760 dollars over 3 weeks.  I only wish I had done the bucket thing for the first 6 weeks instead of relying on a flyer in the program to garner donations.  Oh well, next time. 

We had a whopping 20 hours off from the end of our last performance to the read-through for our next play.  David Drake and Scott Cunningham are coming back to Ptown to join me and three local actresses for a production of Poor Superman.  It’s a great play and will run for three weekends this fall starting Oct 23 (Th-Sun).  It’s a real community event with local artists helping with visuals and music.  All at the Art House, the best venue in town. 

I’ve been training hard.  The Swim for Life is this weekend.  Charles, my mother and I are all planning on swimming pending the weather.  Looks like Hanna will pass a few miles north of Provincetown later on Saturday.  We should be able to get the swim in.  Don’t know of many 3 person teams of mother, son and BF.  Sort of special, I think, and I’m really proud of us all for following through this year and for my mother and step-father for driving 8 hours to do it! 

I’ve also been on my bike quite a bit.  Did a 93 mile ride last Friday, so I feel like I’m in good shape for the Harbor to the Bay ride on the 20th.  That’s the 125 mile ride from Boston.  My concern is the Braking the Cycle ride 6 days later–about endurance.  3 days at 90 miles each.  So I’ve been pushing myself to go out every morning for several hours to do shorter training rides of 40-60 miles in a row.  The past week has been hell as there have been 25mph winds as I return north over 16 miles of hills.  Feels like I’m peddling into a wall.  But it’s great training, and I know it’ll all pay off.  If you hadn’t noticed the links on those rides, please do! 

 Click and Donate if you haven’t already!

Now that the summer is over, I’m finally going to be getting the state mandated training I need in order for me to do my job.  5 days in Boston this month to get the requisite training/skills needed in order to do counseling and testing.  That along with the training and the upcoming play rehearsals should keep me busy.  I must say that I haven’t been this happy and centered in a long time.  I’m soooo enjoying some weeknights off–knitting, starting counted x-stich (no comments), reading Henry James to see if my brain still works.  It’s all good.  And today is two weeks without booze (a self-imposed training regiment!) 

So that’s that.  In the future I’ll be keeping the updates brief.  I’ve questioned recently whether to even keep the blog going; I realized, however, I had basically gotten off track from my original mission.  With that in mind, I hope to forge ahead with the blog but in a more meaningful way.  As always, thanks for your support, your readership, and your comments.

What better way to honor my grandfather who passed away this morning than to offer up his last recorded words.  My grandfather was pure showman–a man who loved being on the stage whether that was literally or figuratively just sitting in a kitchen chair.  He had committed to memory poems, readings, ditties, family histories and coversations, etc., all of which he shared whenever he could.  The theater in me came from him.

When I was home in April for another funeral, he recited the following poem.  It’s an honor to share it. 

Just an FYI:  2 Boys In A Bed On A Cold Winter’s Night will be extended through the month of August on Tuesdays and Wednesday evenings at 9pm.  If you thought you might have missed it, here’s your chance.

Check out Jason Bellini’s segment on Ptown’s “Barkers.”  You’ll get a glimpse of the show!

And very much appreciated! 

I’m not going to repost the entire blog, but please revisit the original call for support for the Braking the Cycle ride coming up in September.  http://spencerquest.com/blog1/?p=130

Fact is, I’m back asking for support.  And I’m doing another ride!  On September 20, I’m going to be riding 125 miles from Boston to Provincetown for the AIDS Support Group of Cape Cod.  Yes, this is 6 days before I start the 275 mile Braking the Cycle ride from Gettysburg to NYC.  I figured the day ride will be a perfect long training ride.  And if I can do this, perhaps the next one will be the 500+ ride from LA to SF next year!  Or Montreal to Portland.  Who knows.

If you could reach into your pockets or help me muster up donations it would be greatly appreciated! 

 

 Brakingthecycle.org, Rider:  Spencer Keasey, Goal: $10,000

 

 

 

 

Harbortothebay.org, Rider: Spencer Keasey, Goal: $1000

Thanks for your support.

spence

You forgive me, right?  It’s been a month since the last entry.  Everyone understands the complexities of a new job, so I can only hope I’ve been given a little leeway.  If you’ve been interested enough to read my blog, then you also know the last three weeks were my hell weeks–trying to rehearse for the opening of 2 Boys while maintaining not only my regular fulltime and a part-time jobs but my sanity.  I’m here to report the results:

I managed through that tough time, through last week’s performances and into the start of our second week.  All is going really well, and while we could be seen as the “underdog” here in ptown–a land of drag queens and flashy comedy–we are holding our own.

Please check out Michael Diamod’s piece on Ptown in which he interviews me about the show:  A Town Called P, part 1

We were also interviewed by Jason Bellini, the CBS News Correspondent for Logo who ended up taping the show on Thursday night–the night we rocked.  I’m hoping to provide a clip to you soon. 

I can’t get to caught up in catch-up because there is just too much going on.  I have several emails to respond to publically as an “advice” segment–something very important that must get my attention soon.  And, I need to start plugging for the upcoming charity events/rides/swims. 

So until then, please check out the amazing act of homophobia and censorship found at Spiritus Pizza–the place that makes all of their money from selling slices to gay men at 1am in the morning.  Would this have happened if it was a straight couple?? Check out the article about it in the NEW ENGLAND BLADE.