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a diary

Meet Hector, a beautiful A-list Chelsea party boy, complete with six-pack, street smarts and Upper West Side bff.
Meet Hector, body ravaged by AIDS, wearing caftans with pockets full of Kleenex, saying goodbye to his last T-cells, facing his death with humor and grace, trying (unsuccessfully) to find detachment.

“My new psychiatrist says gay babies need a erotic/romantic relationship with their fathers such as straight babies have with their mothers, but since the likelihood of the gay babies getting such paternal affection is slim, they grow up the way they do.”

“TV Guide was harassing me about getting their empty guide to emptiness. Threats from creditors filled the mailbox. I scrawled on the back of one “I did not order TV Guide because I never would and I never will. I am ill and you are harassing me, desist!” Jury duty notices? I scrawled across the jittery forms “AIDS!AIDS!AIDS!AIDS!”

Listen then to this wonder! How wonderful it is to be both outside and inside, to seize and to be seized, to see and at the same time be what is seen, to hold and to be held – that is the goal where the spirit remains at rest, united with our dear eternity – Meister Eckhart

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