As part of the ongoing Gay Games activities, the Sydney Convention Centre is displaying the International AIDS Memorial Quilt this week. I went to see it today. Where I come from, quilting commemorates happy events: births, marriages, birthdays. I was curious to see how it could be used to memorialize a death. I’ve never known anyone with AIDS (though one of my best friends in college went through a scare and had to get tested), so I didn’t expect it to have that much impact on me. Within five minutes I was choking back tears though. It’s impossible not to. It’s not that the quilts are sad; in fact, most of them are cheerful celebrations of people’s lives. It’s just the sheer number of them, and knowing that each panel (and there had to have been over 1000 that I saw) was put together by friends, families, and lovers trying to come to grips with a life cut short. As I walked along, I marveled at how many of the tributes were for white thirtysomething men. I’ve heard gay men lament that an entire generation has been lost, but I didn’t really understand what that meant. And yet they didn’t all fit the stereotype – there were women and old people and young people and even little kids. It was just heartbreaking stuff.

I liked seeing the different ways people chose to commemorate their loved ones. Some just had a name and a date, while others actually attached items that were important to the person (teddy bears, jean jackets, even a CD). The volunteer assured me that I could take pictures, so I snapped a few of some of the panels that stopped me in my tracks. You just wouldn’t believe the creativity and work and love people have poured into this project. (The last one is for an eight-year-old boy named Troy. The pictures around the border were drawn by his second-grade classmates.)

     

No Friday Five this week. I glanced at the questions and saw they were all about religion, and as my hangover is still raging from last night, I’m in no shape to discuss weighty theological matters. So to paraphrase Buffy, think of something cool and pretend I said it.

Fabulous.
“At a time when there is so much fear and danger, anger and destruction, this event represents an alternative vision for humanity.” Yes, the Gay Games have started in Sydney. I doubt I’ll go to watch any of the sporting competitions, but I’m really interested in some of the cultural events they’ve got scheduled. The highlight has to be Bea Arthur. When am I ever again gonna get the chance to see a Golden Girl? 🙂

Boston College. Again. Son of a bitch.

Hey Dad! Check it out. This Beemer has an “easter egg” where – if you press the right combination of buttons – it’ll do an automatic burn out for you! How cool is that? (I’ve only ever done one unintentionally. <pride>It took me a while, but I can drive stick pretty well now.</pride>)

In other astounding news… I ate garlic prawns last night! Yes, actual seafood. And I’m still alive! It was pretty good too. 🙂

Five miles! Five frickin’ miles. I’m going to go have a heart attack now.

Update: Not good. I’m feeling some significant pain a couple inches above my left heel when I walk. That’s Achilles tendon territory, right? Crap. Can any of you runner types advise me about this? Most of these sports medicine sites seem to suggest icing it. I’ll do that. At what point should I seek medical attention? I can still walk on it.

Did you know that the Johnny Cash song “A Boy Named Sue” was written by Shel Silverstein? I didn’t. Now I’m curious about his other adult stuff.

You’ve all heard the urban legend about the Singaporean zookeeper who has to masturbate all the animals every day, right? Well apparently such activities are not all that far-fetched. Taronga Zoo here in Sydney has a male gorilla who isn’t producing any offspring. Recently zoo management proposed knocking him out and having one of the keepers “manually stimulate” him. Unsurprisingly, they all refused (“It was too bloody dangerous,” a zookeeper said last night. “What if he woke up?”) and it’s turned into a big industrial issue. So instead the poor guy is going to be subjected to something called “electro-ejaculation”. Where’s Binatang bin Goncang when you need him?