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This Thursday I am leaving New York. I am leaving the home that I have known for 35 years, and the life that I have been living there.
I will have existed here on this Earth for 58 years this November. By my own reckoning, I will have been sharing this body - this creation of flesh and muscle and bone - with HIV and Hepatitis C for half that time.
None of us knows how much time we have in life. We can never know what winds may carry us or kill us. For too many of us, each day’s existence is struggle to survive. While I sit here in comfort and privilege, typing out words so that others may know who I was, to help you laugh in the night when you are there alone, to help you forget, even for a moment, your own losses, your own pain - millions of people around the world fight for each breath, each sound, each smile.
While others still suffer, I’ll be flying to the South China Sea. Not long ago (only two months ago, to be precise) I met a woman online who, like you and I, lives with HIV. I’ll be writing more about her, and about our life on her island, in the days to come. I haven’t severed all of my ties to Gotham yet - whatever wisdom that I’ve acquired during my privileged life has taught me never to act on impulse and I’ll be back in New York next month, after I’ve decided exactly what it is that I have to do, not only for she and I, but for others. If I decide to return to her island and remain there, it will be the most important decision that I have ever made, and I can only hope that whatever I do decide will be right. I'll be writing from there (or wherever life takes me) and God (and the Poz/Aidsmeds staff) willing, I'll find a few inspired words now and then to share with you. Wish me luck.
Read about me at http://www.davidweissny.com
Good luck and happy travels to you, may this journey take you exactly where you want to go.
good luck david. I'm sure you'll do fine. Going into unfamiliar territory is nothing new for you. I can't wait for your stories.
Come, fill the Cup, and in the Fire of Spring
The Winter Garment of Repentance fling:
The Bird of Time has but a little way
To fly--and Lo! the Bird is on the Wing.
And look--a thousand Blossoms with the Day
Woke--and a thousand scatter'd into Clay:
And this first Summer Month that brings the Rose
Shall take Jamsh{'y}d and Kaikobád away.
But come with old Khayyám, and leave the Lot
Of Kaikobád and Kaikhosrú forgot:
Let Rustum lay about him as he will,
Or Hátim Tai cry Supper--heed them not.
With me along some Strip of Herbage strown
That just divides the desert from the sown,
Where name of Slave and Sultán scarce is known,
And pity Sultán Mahmúd on his Throne.
Here with a Loaf of Bread beneath the Bough,
A Flask of Wine, a Book of Verse--and Thou
Beside me singing in the Wilderness--
And Wilderness is Paradise now.
Be looking for you to write your own Rubaiyat.
Todd
David,
You're so badass.
BTW exonerated is misspelled on your cool website.