I would like to start by apologizing for the drought in my posting in the last couple of months. I could give you a thousand excuses from multiple hospital visits to a mini meltdown about turning 36, to hurricanes and heartache, but I won't. I will just say this, Life is just a circus and this poor clown is just trying to get a laugh. More plainly, life happens and sometimes it gets in the way.

So to you constant readers (that haven't given me up for dead that is) and to Bob and Brian and all the other contributors at PositiveLite.com that make it the beautiful animal that it is, I humbly apologize for not pulling my weight. And now - moving on...

I have had the lucky fortune to be asked to be a part of (what we hope to be) an amazing new HIV/AIDS not-for-profit organization here in Maryland. Many of you may remember the interview I did a few months back with my dear friend Holly, who was trekking to Kenya to volunteer her time, and love to help children infected and affected by HIV/AIDS there. Upon her return we of course got together so we could talk about her experiences in Africa .

Now before leaving for Africa I loaned Holly my digital camera so that she could take many pictures of her journey. Just a simple gesture on my part that became a lifesaving gesture halfway around the world.

On one of her last nights in Kenya it came to Holly and her fellow heroes that one of the women that they had been working with over the last month was very ill and needed immediate hospitalization. This woman also had no means of paying the doctor. Now Holly and the other volunteers had no money left between them either. Things looked very grim. So Holly, being the hero that she is, began digging through her luggage looking for anything of value that she could take to the pawn shop to sell so this woman could get the medical attention she needed.

Well she came across my camera, and after brief contemplation decided that I would most likely do the same thing if it were me. So Holly walked FOUR hours to the nearest pawn shop, haggles her ass off to get a fair price for my camera (which turned out to be exactly the amount needed to pay the doctor.) Walked back FOUR hours with money in hand and got that woman to the doctor and the medical attention that saved her life.

This has got to be one of the most inspiring stories that I have ever heard, I was torn between crying and cheering when Holly told me. But you bet your asses that I gave her a huge hug, and thanked her for letting me, (even in the tiniest fraction) be a part of something so incredible.

This got us to thinking that we wanted to be able to do more, so much more, and on a local level where HIV infection rates are at a major high and testing rates are at an even more major low. We put our heads together and thunk and thunk and decided that a) we could, and b) we would make a difference here in Maryland.

We have officially started our own non-for-profit organization with the goal of educating every person in the state of the threat of HIV/AIDS.

We created Hope Red Inc. We will soon be taking classes to get certified to become a state recognized HIV testing organization. We also have plans for some pretty great fundraising and educational events. We are still just little fish in a huge pond, but we are determined to grow and grow until our goal of having every person in Maryland knowing their status is a reality. Stay tuned for more on Hope Red Inc.

We are still building our web page but if you would like to take a gander anyway, please feel free, www. HopeRedInc.com. As our mission statement reads, Know your Status, Know the Truth.

Be well, and as always thank you for reading.

XXOO Danny

We have all heard the old familiar adage “be careful what you wish for, you might just get it”. To me it always sounded so stupid. I mean what’s wrong with getting what you want? To use another familiar adage, “you live and you learn”, and boy did I learn about being careful what I wished for, because I wished and I got - only to realize that I didn't really want.

Are you totally lost yet? Let me explain.

On Valentine's Day on 1996 I arrived in the great southern city of Atlanta Georgia. I moved there to live with my older brother who was absolutely the coolest person I had ever met. I was 20 years old, had a good fake ID, I was dating a cute drug dealer so the party was always free. Yeah life was awesome, living in the big city, working in a couple different gay bars as a dancer, a plethora of hot guys to choose from, nobody to tell me what to do or what time to be home. Life just couldn't get any better.

It was Fourth of July weekend and I was booked to perform in a bar in Pensacola Florida. I felt like such a rock star, great hotel on the beach, free food and drinks at the bar. I was making money hand over fist every set on stage. I was on top of the world.

Little did I know my whole world was about to come crashing down. I was in the middle of my last set when the bar manager came up to tell me I had an emergency phone call. Now the only people who knew I was there were my brother and my boss from Atlanta who booked the gig. I figured it must be my brother. He had just gone through a bad break up with his fiancé and was pretty wrecked about it. I figured I'd just tell him I had to finish the night's work and I would call him when I got back to the hotel.

I walked into the bar manager's office and picked up the phone. It wasn't my brother. It was my mother. My brother was dead. He had shot himself in the head.

I immediately left to go back to Atlanta. I was a complete mess, half drunk and high as a kite from the cocaine I kept shoveling up my nose. To this day I still don't know how I made it home without wrapping the rental car around a tree. In all honesty I think I was hoping for just that.

While preparing to go home to Maryland with my brother's body for his funeral I made the decision that as soon as it was all over and I was back in Atlanta and away from my Mom and Dad I was going to follow in my brother's footsteps. Hell - if I could I would even use the same gun. When I arrived home for the service and saw my Mother, saw how devastated she was I knew I wouldn't be able to do it. I couldn't put her through that all over again and I hated her for it. I wanted nothing more than to die and because of her I had to go on living.

I spent the next month in a drug and alcohol induced haze of hate and grief, and it was during that month than I came up with my master plan, the solution to my misery, the answer to my wish. Since I couldn't kill myself I had to find another way to die. That way seemed so obvious and simple to me. I was living in a huge city with a huge gay population in which AIDS was running rampant. All I had to do was find someone who was infected, have unprotected sex, between that and all the drugs and booze? Voila! I'd be dead in no time! It was brilliant. I was a genius, at least that's what my grief and drug addled brain told me at the time.

I immediately set my plan into motion, not only sleeping around with anyone who would have me but sharing heroin needles too, I mean like the old adage says measure twice, cut once. Fucked up I know but it made sense to me.

By March of 1997 I had slept and shot up with just about every junkie in Atlanta, and found myself in the hospital with my second overdose. A very close friend and former roommate of mine who had since moved to Connecticut found out I was in hospital and immediately came to rescue me. He flew to Atlanta, packed me and my things and took me back to Connecticut to get sober and healthy. (He had suggested that I go home to my parents. but I refused.)

Over the next year I stayed sober and got tested for HIV every two months and every test came up negative. My plan had failed, and I still wasn't sure how I felt about it. I felt like a complete waste of space, stuck in a world of misery, sorrow and hate. In the spring of 1998 my roommate was being transferred to Chicago for work; he wanted me to go with him. I had nothing better to do and nowhere else to go anyway so we packed up and headed for the windy city.

I seemed to come all the way back to life in Chicago. It was a whole new world for me and for the first time since my brother died. I wanted to live, I really wanted to live. I had a steady job, had achieved moderate fame in the city as a drag queen and fell in love with the most amazing man a guy could ever ask for. I was back on top of the world, only this time for real. Life was good. It wasn't perfect by a long shot, but it was good and I was happy.

Then in February of 2002 I got sick, really sick, I woke up one morning and my eyes and skin were bright yellow. Great, I thought to myself, I figured I had somehow managed to catch hepatitis A which was running rampant in the city at the time. I went to the clinic where they ran every test in the book, it was hepatitis alright, but it was HepB not A. I immediately asked about an HIV test which they had done and it came back negative. Whew, dodged a bullet there, yea I had HepB but according to the doctors it would most likely run its course and then be out of my system, done and over with. I got better, turned back to my normal color and went back to life as usual.

Five years later, low and behold, I turned yellow again, so I went to the doctor who said that apparently the HepB hadn't gone away and was going to be a chronic thing. Of course they ran every test in the book again just to be sure, (I hadn't had an HIV test since I tested negative back in 02, but I felt no need to worry, I was still with the same partner and still monogamous after all). After about a week I get a call from the doctor. I was expecting news on what the course of treatment for the HepB was going to be, what I got was knocked out of my socks. The HIV test came back positive. My long ago and almost forgotten plan hadn't failed after all. Somewhere along the line I had gotten my wish, only now I didn't want it anymore.

I was devastated, not out of fear for my life, I knew that with the medications and treatments now available that I wouldn't die anytime soon. My fear was for my husband. Had I infected him? As it turns out yes I did. I tried to fall apart but he wouldn't let me. He said I had to be strong for both of us and I was. I started treatment and after a few minor mishaps trying to find the right medications my health improved. My husband started treatment also but did not have the success that I did. In early September of 2008 he suffered two major seizures and a week later he died.

Fast forward to 2011, I am back home in Maryland, healthy, and more determined than ever to fight to stay that way. Do I have any regrets? Honestly no, I don't. Life is too short and precious to live in regret. I made some bad choices and decisions, yes. But every step I took lead me to be who I am today, and although I'm nowhere near perfect, I am comfortable in my skin, and proud of who I have become

.

Does the past sometimes haunt me? Yes it does, but that is something I have learned to live with just as I have learned to live with HIV.

Thank you for reading. XXOO Danny

 

 

 

So a friend of mine posed a question to our group of friends that really got me thinking, (No I didn't get a headache, just a little dizzy GEESH!!) If you could go back and say anythin to your 16 year old self what would it be?? I know awesome question huh?? I wish I had thought of it but alas I was preoccupied with Kirsty Alley's incredible shrinking waist line on this season's Dancing With the Stars, but never the less I got permission to use her question here. So here goes, lets hop in the time machine and go back 20 years to 1991 and talk to a stubborn pig headed brat who thought the world revolved around him.

 

I think the first thing I would say to me is this: PUT DOWN THAT BLOW DRYER AND CAN OF SUPER HOLD HAIR SPRAY THIS INSTANT!! (UGH!! Y'all should have seen some of the whacked out things I tried to claim was a hair style)

 

Next... On a more serious note, stop calling Mom a bitch behind her back, when she says she hears and knows all, it's true!! She does know and hear all, you haven't gotten away with anything, she is just saving it up to use against you later when you really piss her off. Besides even though you don't want to admit it, your Mom is your best friend who will always be there for you when you need her, no matter what kind of trouble you have managed to get yourself into, and trust me, you are gonna get into a lot of trouble over the years.

 

Moving on.. That hot guy that sits in front of you in English class??? Stop drooling, he is not that hot, you are just a raging ball of hormones at the moment, and besides you should see him in 20 years!!  NOT PRETTY!! That's what 20+ years of being douche bag supreme will do to ya!!

 

Now lets talk about Dad. Dad is not an asshole. You have just put a ton of food for thought on his plate this year. He has a lot to digest here and you not speaking to him isn't gonna make it any easier. Oh and next week when you two get into a fight about you using hid deodorant without asking, DUCK!! He is gonna whip it at your head and it will hurt like a bastard for a couple of days. Things will get better with Dad, he will start to understand you more and more over time. Things will never be perfect, you can't go back to being that little kid he called buckaroo, but they will get better.

 

OK so we talked about the hair earlier lets move on to wardrobe... Ditch the old man polyester suit jackets from the thrift store. They don't make you look cool!! REALLY!!

 

Now lets talk about love. You are not gonna find your life long love in the halls of Leonardtown High School, your 16 for Pete's snakes!!  You have your whole life ahead of you to find and fall in love, and trust me it's gonna happen a few times, and it's isn't gonna be all puppy dogs and rainbows so get that idea out of your head. It's a psycho roller coaster of ups and downs, but that's OK, you will learn from each experience, till one day when  your in your mid to late 20's you will finally get it right, sort of. Again nothing is perfect your gonna have to work at it. So next year when Mr. Fantasy guy breaks your heart, just roll with the punches because trust me you will go through much more trying times than him. But know this you are a lot stronger than you will ever know you are capable of.

 

And lastly, take care of yourself. I'm not saying don't have fun and experience the crazy life, but know when to say enough is enough. There are so many people and other things in this life out there waiting for you, you just have to make it there. And learn from your mistakes, don't regret, don't ever regret, it's a waste of time, but learn from life. And love yourself above all else you do, love yourself, because you are a amazing person who has a lot of amazing adventures to live and share with this world, trust me I know. Oh and there is life past 30, I see you shaking your head and rolling your eyes, but trust me, it only gets better.

 

Thank you for reading.  XXOO Danny

Now I have never really been very big on all of the gooey cotton candy, puppy dogs and butterfly rainbows that go along with the whole “romance” thing. Usually guys who get all cutesy with pet names and stuffed teddy bears holding hearts tend to get on my nerves. I know it sounds mean, but that's just me. I am a firm believer that  Valentine's Day is just a waste of money and honey is something you put on oatmeal, NOT something you call you call your boyfriend.

 

Now some of you right now are probably thinking, “Oh your just bitter and jaded!” (which I totally am) and some of you may be calling me a cold hearted bitch (which I also totally am) but hold your judgment and name calling until I'm done with this post. I'm not always so bitter and cold, I have my moments, though they are few and far between there have been a few times I have been able to endure goo goo gaga of romance.

 

In the summer of 1997 I received a very special kiss, the sweetest kiss.

 

I was living in a small town in Connecticut, I was 21 years old, and his name was Ryan.

 

Ryan was the best friend my good friend's boyfriend. We were introduced at a party and right off the bat I wanted nothing to do with the kid. (and by kid I mean kid, he was 18 years old and two weeks out of high school, strike one.) And of course my disinterest in Ryan did not in any way hamper my friend and his boyfriend's efforts to hook Ryan and I up.

 

Now Ryan seemed nice enough, and he was perfectly adorable, but something in my senses told me to stay away from the kid, especially after he gave me his phone number and said that if I called him and someone other than him answered  I should just hang up. (he wasn't out to his family and had no plans of coming out to them anytime soon. Strike two.) He also confessed that he had never had a boyfriend before. (Strike 3!! The game is over!)

 

I was polite and and friendly at the party knowing I had no intentions of calling, let alone dating the kid, and I thought that would be that. Well it seemed my friends and fate had other plans.

 

Ryan got my number from said good friend's boyfriend whom got it from said good friend, and he proceeded to call me on a regular basis for about a month, in addition every time I hung out with my good friend we seemed to conveniently run into Ryan. This went on for about a month and a half and I started to concede my stance.

 

Little by little Ryan started to worm his way in, I have to admit the kid knew how to use his pretty hazel eyes and flash his smile at me. And I thought to myself, “Well why the hell not?” and “Just a summer fling right??” and “It's not like I'm gonna fall for this guy right??”

 

Enter the goo goo gaga of romance to throw a monkey wrench in my plans.

 

His parents went to upstate New York to the family cabin for a weekend and left him home on his own because he had to be at his job at Circuit City. Well unbeknownst to Mom and Dad, Ryan had taken the weekend off work and had planned on spending the weekend at my place. Nothing too special planned, we had tickets to see Marilyn Manson in concert that Saturday night, and then hanging out by the pool or something Sunday, all very casual, other than this was was going to be the first time we would have the opportunity to do what gay boys do when their folks are away for the weekend.

 

So we went to our concert and had a blast, got back to my place late and headed straight for bed.

 

We were making out pretty hot and heavy and he wound up on top of me looking at very sternly with his big pretty eyes. “What??” I say, to which he promptly replied, “I'm gonna use my magical powers and turn you into a toad!!!” A little taken aback I asked him why on earth he would want to do that. “So I can kiss you and make you a prince again!!!” He said with a big adorable grin, and then he gave me a very soft and lovely kiss. (I know, nauseating isn't it?)

 

I was caught completely off guard, and for all intents and purposes I was flabbergasted. In a flash of sweet words I went from extremely horny to extremely smitten. Any hopes I had of staying emotionally disconnected to this kid during our “summer fling” went out the window, he had snared me in his trap, game over.

 

No sex was had that night, it just seemed that it would cheapen the very special one of a kind moment we had just shared. (Although the next morning it was on like Donkey Kong!)

 

Our “summer fling” turned into a year long roller coaster affair that in the end, of course, didn't work out. The next spring I moved to Chicago, he went to college and we broke up. But still these 15 years later I still look back in my mind, and see his precious face staring down at me and I can't help but smile when I think of that moment, that kiss, the sweetest kiss. Thank you for reading. XXOO Danny

Throughout the course of our lives each of us has many friends come and go. Some of them are just social friends. Some of them, though, drift into our lives and make a very profound impact on us, change us for the better and then just seem to drift right back out. Some friends become life-long confidants whom we know that no matter what time it is, or what kind of trouble we have gotten ourselves into, they will be there to help pick us up.

Friends come in so many different varieties, from people whom you see on a regular basis to (thanks to the internet ) friends that you have never physically met, but still hold close to your heart. Friends are a fundamental part of our lives in so many ways.

Often, we have one friend that comes into our life that saves us. That someone can chase away the clouds, banish the monster in the closet, make us laugh when we feel like crying, and warm us when we are cold. This one friend is our rock, our kindred spirit.

It just so happens that this one special friend of mine had four legs, a tail, and pooped in a bright blue plastic box in the corner of my kitchen. His name was Bagheera Maximillion Jones, my bestest friend in the whole world. He was my cat.

I met Bagheera in a rescue shelter in Chicago. My husband and I were looking for a playmate for the cat we already had. Bagheera pushed his way through the crowd of about one hundred other cats, using his huge 16lb body to shove all the other cats out of his way. Then he walked right up to Kyle and I and said “Hey you two homos! Get me the hell out of this nuthouse!” It didn't seem like we had a choice in the matter; Bagheera had picked us, and we obeyed. That was August 10, 2007 Bagheera was eleven years old.

Right away we knew that this was no ordinary cat. He was solid black, except for about a nickel-size white spot on his big belly, and he had the most astounding bright green eyes I had ever seen on a cat.

We later found out that he was a black Siamese, a very rare breed. I asked the vet if we should get a life insurance policy on him.

Long story short, Bagheera. named after the black panther in Rudyard Kipling's The Jungle Book, became my partner in crime. We would cavort through the house chasing Miss Chloe, (our other cat). He would pounce on Kyle's stomach while he was relaxing on the couch watching TV, (I wonder if my throwing Baggy's cat nit pouch in his lap had anything to do with that?) In short I was like a five-year old boy with a brand new puppy, except that I was a 32 year-old ex drag queen with a cat, I dunno you do the math!

In September of 2008 when my husband passed away, Bagheera really became my life. He saved me in so many ways. He comforted me when I cried, and he gave me a reason to go on. He depended on me as much as I depended on him; we were all each other had left. And I honestly believe that that crazy cat is the only thing that stopped me from leaping off the back balcony.

Fast forward to May 12, 2011, I get home from grocery shopping and find my Baggy, with his jaw swollen. He was crying. My heart broke. I rushed him to the vet, and my worst nightmare became reality. Bagheera had cancer in his mouth, and he was suffering. It was like looking at my husband dying in that hospital bed all over again.

And so I made the toughest decision of my life for the second time. I couldn't let my baby boy suffer. It was his time.

I took him home that night, gave him extra helpings of his favorite canned food, lots of extra treats, and every ounce of love I had left in my body. I was determined to repay all of the love and joy that he had given me over the last few years in that one night. I did my best. I hope he felt it.

 The next afternoon , I took him to the vet for the last time. They gave him some medicine to make him sleepy, and I held him in my arms and kissed his little black nose over and over again, and whispered in his ear “I love you forever and always, you won't hurt anymore I promise, and as soon as you get there, you run into your Daddy Kyle's arms, he will be waiting for you. I called him last night to let him know you were coming. Now go to sleep buddy boy, I love you.” He went to sleep, I kissed him one last time, and the doctor gave him the injection.

I buried him in my parent’s back yard, right next to the fountain my Dad built, Bagheera loved to play with water.

My house is too quiet now, and it's hard to sleep at night, not hearing him purr on the pillow above my head. His litter box is still in the corner of the kitchen, I'm not sure how long it will stay there, Kyle's toothbrush, after all, is still in the holder in the bathroom.

I know eventually this hurt will heal, and I have had so much love and support from all of my amazing two legged friends and family. Eventually there will another four legged companion for me, but they will be a new friend, not a replacement, Bagheera was a one in a million boy who I will hold my heart forever.

 Thank you for reading.

 XXOO Danny

So here in the United States of America, the southern states, (those below the Mason Dixon line) are known throughout history as being very intolerant of minorities. Thosestates are also notorious for being anti-gay, and now one state in particular, Tennessee, has taken this to a whole new level of ridiculous-ness!

Earlier this year the Tennessee state senate introduced the “Don't Say Gay” bill, which would, make it unlawful to say the words “gay” and “homosexuality”, or even discuss the topic in Tennessee schools.

On April 21, 2011, the bill was passed by the Tennessee State Senate by a vote of 6-3.

When I was growing up, my family lived in Clarksville, Tennessee. I attended public school there, and I remember there were some pretty strict rules as to what was and was not allowed  For example, boys attending my middle school (grades 6-8) were not permitted to have a long or even shaggy haircut. A boy could be suspended from school for showing up with a pierced ear. In fact the only jewelry a boy was permitted to wear was a necklace bearing a cross or some other acceptable religious symbol. I remember one boy in my class being forced to remove his Star of David necklace because it was not a school-authorized jewelry item. So this new “Don't Say Gay” bill does not entirely surprise me.

What it does do is scare the hell out of me. Middle school is a very difficult time for any kid. Puberty sneaks up on you, your face gets taken over by acne, your voice starts to squeak and you start getting hairy in places that were bald before. Add to that feelings, both physical and emotional, that you have never felt before and you have the perfect recipe for a neurotic adolescent boy.

To make matters worse, middle school is a bully's paradise. I know. I was there! I was short, had a super squeaky voice and more body hair than any of the other boys in gym class. Let me tell you, it's loads of fun to have all the other boys in the boys locker room start scratching themselves and hooting and hollering like monkeys at you when it was shower time. I went from feeling like I was all grown up to a circus freak in seconds flat! And on top of that, being gay. I imagine Dante's Inferno an amusement park compared to a middle school boy's locker room.

And now those scared, picked on gay boys (and girls) have absolutely no hope of solace. Let’s face it, not very many boys at 12 or 13 are going to go to their Mom and Dad and say “I'm getting picked on cause I'm hairy and gay!” Most would rather face the torment than do that. I know that was the case with for me.

And now the state of Tennessee says that these kids can't even talk to a school counselor or teacher about what is going on with their bodies and emotions. They are to be left stumbling blindly around in the middle school jungle all alone. And people are shocked by the extremely high adolescent/teen suicide rate we are seeing in this country? What do you expect when our kids are reaching out for our help and the law says we have to turn our backs on them?

As gay people, we have made great strides since the Stonewall Riots of 1969. Legislation like this pushes us back a few steps, and a few steps is all it takes to crumble four decades of fighting for equality. If we have any moral fibre at all we will not stand for that!

Thank you for reading.

XXOO Danny