Mega-Summer Blog!
July 28, 2008
I have been a lameduck blogger for the past week, and for that I do apologize. I’ve rendered myself culturally irrelevant on many fronts- I haven’t even seen Batman yet.
Lots has been going on, though. Last week, Gwenn and I went to Cleveland to help her Mom (not pictured here) straighten out her home, which she’d not been in for several months due to health issues. Though there were social overtones, our purpose there was like that of a TLC show. Gwenn would go through a drawer and hold up an item, like an opened, empty envelope.
“Seriously, Mom?”
I was on trashbag duty, and stayed above the fray whenever possible, only chiming in for key tie-breaking votes. I sided with Bev, Gwenn’s mom, a couple of times to build her trust and legitimacy as an Independent voice of reason, but when a gnarled stuffed rabbit reappeared from behind the television set, his white cotton guts hanging from a gaping wound to the abdomen, I had to say…
“Seriously, Bev?”
“… but that was Isobel’s favorite toy. Hazel got to it.”
Isobel- not pictured here- was her dearly departed Bison Frise dog. Hazel the replacement dog that now resides with Bev’s sister. As she reminisced about her old pal, a life-size Bison statue was seated by the TV, staring up at me with it’s lifeless eyes, in which I saw an opportunity to send the bunny to its fate at the bottom of my trash bag.
“Look,” I said, giving the Bison statue a little pat on the head while holding the bunny with two soon-to-be-washed fingers. “There’s Isobel right there. This,” I said, dangling the bunny. “Is unsanitary.”
Bev wouldn’t budge on the bunny, embedded with the DNA of two beloved canine friends, but after that victory she was a real trooper for two long days, allowing us to consolidate and organize her home. Each night, under the cover of darkness, Gwenn and I took ten trash bags to nearby townhomes, dumping them in large bins, rubbernecking for ill-tempered residents catching a late-night smoke in the shadows.
This Judas Priest song and video always goes through my mind whenever I find myself stretching the laws of the land.
So that vid didn’t age very well. In terms of music videos, I got an email recently from a guy in town who wants to make a music video for Synthetic Division. “Do I have to be in it?” I asked, haunted by the above images of Rob Halford and realizing the limitations of how cool I could look lip-syncing.
Trips and other things aside, in the last few weeks I have found time to post some Synthetic Division visual treats, just little shout outs to friends. Fans of the Gilmore Girls might be interested in this diatribe, aimed squarely at Lauren Hoffman, my friend and new (!) neighbor.
I’ve got one fan of these vids, and everyone else thinks I’m high in them.
In other news, Bella Morte are back from tour today. As some of you know, Gwenn manages the band, and they actually look really cool and not high at all in their soon-to-be-released video, directed by Eric Thomas Craven.
Here’s a photo from the day they left for tour, posing with Lauren.
OK, this definitely constitutes as a MEGA-BLOG, and I don’t feel bad for laming out anymore. Hope everyone’s summer is going well!
Positively Yours,
Shawn
Check out my memoir, My Pet Virus, and click to read a sample. Video of reviews.
Give a listen to "Sign", one of my songs from Synthetic Division’s Get with the Programs (co-written with Kyle Wiggins):
Get the song here on iTunes!
Be sure to visit ShawnandGwenn.com, where you can see clips of our educational work at colleges and universities, as well as media clips from MTV safe sex programming and a Dr. Drew talk show. 2006 video of me and Gwenn, when I was finishing up My Pet Virus.
Haven’t seen a real blog in a day or so? Follow my cellphone micro-blogging at Twitter.com.
Sean Strub on Jesse Helms
July 18, 2008
Sean Strub, founder of Poz Magazine and overall badass, has written about the passing of Jesse Helms over at the Huffington Post. Check it out: http://www.huffingtonpost.com/sean-strub/condomizing-jesse-helms-h_b_113329.html
Sean shares an incredible story about an early 1990’s caper, involving himself, Peter Staley and a handful of renegade positoids placing an enormous condom over the home of Jesse Helms in Arlington, Virginia. A giant condom for a giant dick.
A “fitting” tribute.
Positively Yours,
Shawn
Today I Am 33 (Sorry, Granddad)
July 16, 2008
Today I am 33.
For quite a few years after my diagnosis, I could never have imagined reaching this number. However, a few years before my diagnosis, I was pissed off at my grandfather- who was watching me one day.
“I wish I was 33,” I said.
“Why 33?” Granddad asked, puzzled.
“Because you’ll be dead!”
I was showing off my new math skills at age 7 or 8, apparently. And he loved the story and my comedic timing so much he shared it with everyone at the family reunion that year.
Well, today I am indeed 33. And yes, the math held up and Granddad is dead. Or, better still, he has passed to spirit as I like to say. And, wherever he is, I hope he finds that moment as humorous as he did here in the physical realm.
What’s funny is that 33 is pretty uneventful. I have to remind myself of past speculation on how many birthdays I was supposed to live to see, and even doing that doesn’t get me too jazzed. And that’s cool- that’s how it’s supposed to be. Plus, I can’t say I’ve ever been honestly shocked to find myself marking another year in this fashion.
Being mellow about this birthday is settling in well with me. Maybe it’s because I’ve had so many big birthday parties, I’ve had my cake and eaten it too. I’ve even been known to eat the cake and a dallop of ice cream for good measure. And after my pet virus hopped aboard shortly before I blew out 12 candles on a cake, the birthday bashes for me got bigger- more friends were invited to the pool parties at my grandparents’ house. And I always jumped into their swimming pool without waiting for the appropriate time for the junkfood to settle.
Through good fortune, I never went belly-up or facedown in the waters. And, though patience comes easier these days, I never want to lose the youthful enthusiasm that shined through despite an uncertain future.
Yesterday, on my birthday’s eve, I got see the folks responsible for my attitude and my existence. Mom called, her and Dad wanted to pop over and take Gwenn and I out for a surprise dinner. I accepted the offer, of course, and they gave me a card with some money in it, even though they’d already given me a birthday gift. (A weekend at the Hotel Roanoke for the Miss Virginia festivities.)
My Mom is big on gift-giving. “Here,” she said, handing my a CVS bag. “These came with some Happy Meals.” The plastic bag was chock-full of more plastic bags, each one containing a figurine from the Spiderwick movies.
There had to be meaning in this gift. I know Spiderwick is a fantastical tale of some sort, probably like Harry Potter. Maybe this is Mom’s way of saying, “It’s magical that you are still with us, Son”? Or perhaps the toys are a reminder that she- like me- sometimes forgets that I lived to blow out more than 12 candles?
Either way, I’m glad I’m here, still figuring out the riddle that is my parents, while being old and wise enough to not use my math skills to inflict emotional trauma on my loved ones.
Positively Yours,
Shawn
PS… here’s the Smashing Pumpkins, and their song “Thirty-Three”. I’m posting this because I bet Billy Corgan was a dickhead when he was 7 or 8, too. And I love the song and the fresh, new age of the same title.
I Want To Ride My (Exercise) Bicycle
July 14, 2008
I was back in full force at Cold’s Gym, earning my iced mochas, the policy I’d set forth to get me to the gym… and the policy worked: I went three days in a row.
Then tragedy struck: I got injured.
It wasn’t like I was trying to benchpress 350-lbs, or keep up with a Jazzercise class. I was on the lazy-man exercise bike. The ones with back support, no less. And I was taking the rides slower than Foghat. So when I noticed pain in chest- disconcertingly close to my heart- I was puzzled. I thought, “For fuck’s sake, if I’m having a heart attack at 32, God, just take me now.”
I went the third day despite the slight pain, because I really wanted an iced mocha.
The workout was fine, but that night in bed the pain was worse than it had been before. The next day, I didn’t go to the gym and revised my policy to include an iced mocha credit for three consecutive days and a leniency where heart attack scares and other injuries are concerned.
Even when it became apparent that the injury was a pulled muscle in my back, I was still baffled, because the exercise bike had back support, making the pain there seem less sensical than the chest pain… I just wanted to ride my bike…
After two days of recovery, I remembered an incident earlier in the week.
I was in the zone at the Putt Putt Course, trying to defeat my friend/tormentor, Ben, when a bumble started taking swipes at me. The first time it buzzed by I let it slide. But by the fourth time or so shit got personal, plus the game with Ben was close- I was only two strokes down and in no mood for distractions.
“You want a piece of me? Come get some!”
Ben looked somewhat frightened at first, hearing my words and watching me swing my metal putter violently. I almost got ‘em- the bee, that is. Finally, the thing flew away to safety and I thought nothing of it until I was retracing my steps.
I’m 32. I’ll be 33 on Wednesday. I can now add to the long list of Life Accomplishments that I’ve injured myself by fighting a bumble bee.
Positively Yours,
Shawn
PS… found the video on YouTube looking for an official Queen video. Hope those guys got an A for that.
Hemo2Homo Connection: The Happening Review (The Last H2H?)
July 11, 2008
Hemo: He has done it again: my generation’s Alfred Hitchcock, Mr. M. Night Shaymalan, has delivered another masterpiece with The Happening.
Homo: WHAT??? Are you losing your mind, Hemo? Hitchcock would have never produced a turkey like this thing, which I only went because you said we should review it. What’s worse is that I had heard it sucked, but my friend Ernie and I decided to go see it anyway because we were in the mood for a good/bad movie.
Hemo: Don’t be a hater- you’re just mad because you didn’t see the end coming.
Homo: You mean I couldn’t wait for the end to come. And not just of the movie. Everyone in the theatre, we were making a suicide pact. This might be the worst movie I’ve seen in a decade. And not “good” bad.
Hemo: When did you lose your sense of humor?
Homo: Stop it. It’s tediously, boringly, amateurishly, laughingly, stultifyingly bad. One of those that’s more fun to talk about later than to have to sit through.
Hemo: Worse than Indiana Jones?
Homo: It was worse than a night of summer reality TV.
Hemo: Worse than Big Brother?
Homo: Yes. I was stunned, thinblood.
WARNING: PLOT SPOILERS
Hemo: Stunned in shocked silence by the surprise twist ending?
Homo: Surprise? You mean that ending I could see coming a mile away? No, I was stunned because someone had the balls to charge money for this unintentional comedy. The first laugh occurred when they were evacuating Manhattan because they think terrorists have attacked it with poison gas.
Hemo: There’s nothing funny about terrorism, Steve.
Homo: Or, apparently, scary. Picture this, thinblood: NEW YORK CITY IS BEING EVACUATED! Are the people rushing? Are they running? Are they in a panic? Nope. They’re all leisurely strolling through Grand Central Station, casually getting train tickets.
Hemo: Maybe they all had bleeding disorders? Toxic gas is nothing compared to a bad bleed, especially one that’s easily avoided with a modicum of caution.
Homo: Even if there was a Thinblood Convention in New York City, that doesn’t mean the rest of the New Yorkers would be polite enough to not trample them. Trust me- I lived there. The calm demeanor of the public is tempered by Mark Wahlberg’s wife, who is upset at him because he told their friend that she’s been a bit distant.
Hemo: I thought that was a very moving scene.
Homo: Are they putting heroin into your blood products these days? The city is being attacked! People are dying left and right. But what she’s really upset about is that their friend has been told that she’s been a little bit disengaged?
Hemo: Welcome to my world, Homo. That’s how the ladies roll. Remember, sexual preference is a choice, and it’s not too late to switch teams. (note: Shawn Decker knows sexual preference is not a choice, and has gone on record as saying such.)
Homo: No thanks, Hemo. But I am rethinking this Movie Reviewer business.
Hemo: I hear ya, lately these bad movies are making AIDS seem like a cakewalk. Wait, you look like you are about to rant… are you about to…
Homo: You’d think these folks were on an AIDS Walk, without the passion! No, they’re casually walking to the train, but global terrorism isn’t enough drama for Marky’s wife! They could all be poisoned already, but she petulantly decides to sit in a different train car so she can cool down.
Hemo: But what about…
Homo: Naturally, in this evacuation, there are lots of cars and seats to choose from. She finds the seat and gets a phone call from a guy. She picks up the phone and says — I kid you not — “Stop calling me! It’s like you’ve become a stalker! All we did was eat some tiramisu!”
Ernie and I screamed out loud, laughing. At that point, we went all MST3000 on this thing, delivering new dialogue all the way through. Luckily, there were only four other people in the place… Hemo, are you still here?
Hemo: I’m back. I just googled “Eating Tiramisu”, just in case it’s a new phrase for an old sex act: it’s not. :O(
Homo: Sex couldn’t even spice up this movie, which would have been the high point of the entire badly written script. This movie ran out of ideas after five minutes. See, trees and grass are really pissed off at humans, so they’re spraying gas or pollen into the air which makes people commit suicide. Once we learn this, the movie becomes a series of people killing themselves in every PG way possible. Gun shots, jumping off buildings, stabbings, lying in front of a giant lawn mower, etc. And what do you do when you are being attacked by trees, thinblood?
Hemo: Climb up a bear?
Homo: Even better: THEY RUN INTO THE COUNTRYSIDE WHERE THERE’S NOTHING BUT TREES! At one point Marky says, “Quick, get ahead of the wind!” How do you get ahead of the wind?
Hemo: You’ve never had Thanksgiving with my family. If you hear a certain sound, and you don’t get ahead of the wind, you don’t live to enjoy a second serving of mashed potatoes.
Homo: In this movie, it was the Earth that was farting. Or God. Or Muhammed. Whichever God had beans for dinner last dealt it. This whole thing was a bad imitation of a 60’s rip-off of the Twilight Zone series.
Hemo: No, Steve, no. It was an homage! One master paying tribute to another.
Homo: Shawn. No. And I’m scared sick that you are standing behind this movie. And what exactly did you like about this movie, anyway?
Hemo: Well… uh… you have to admit it was kind of cool when Wahlberg started blowing up the trees and chainsawing them down and stuff.
Homo: What are you talking about? You did go see The Happening, right?
Hemo: Actually, I heard a lot of bad things about this one, too. And, since we’re in a recession and all, I figured it would be wise to save the old beans, if ya know what I mean.
Homo: What?! I only went because you told me to!
Hemo: I was going to email you about my change of plan, then I thought: “How cool would it be, in the great tradition of M. Night, to have a surprise ending to this review?”
Homo: I hate you. I’m re-abandoning you as a Godchild. How’s that for a surprise ending?
Hemo: Homo? Homo?
WILL THE HEMO2HOMO CONNECTION BE BACK TO REVIEW BATMAN? IS THE DYNAMIC DUO FINISHED? STAY TUNED TO FIND OUT!
The Hemo2Homo Connection are Shawn Decker and Steve Schalchlin.
The Hemo2Homo Connection’s creators met online in 1996, and posted their first movie review in 1998. Both have been living with HIV for over twenty years, and have annoyed their friends and loved ones for longer than that. Steve Schalchlin resides in Los Angeles, CA. He is an award-winning musician, singer and songwriter. Shawn Decker lives in Charlottesville, VA. He is an HIV/AIDS educator and the author of My Pet Virus.
Return to Cold’s Gym
July 9, 2008
Yesterday I rejoined Gold’s Gym, which I christened “Cold’s Gym” (click to read my 2006 resignation letter to Gold’s) in a previous blog entry due to the fact that I’d surrendered my membership because I kept getting sick there.
It’s not that I’m attempting to get buff, I really just want to do something healthy for myself and increase my energy level, which has been quite low recently. Part of that is that I’ve been feeling somewhat out of sync lately. I noticed I was throwing the word “depressed” around a lot with friends.
Part of being in the dumps has to do with finishing my manuscript. For nine months, I had a purpose, and now that I’ve sent the book off to my agent I haven’t quite figured out what to do with myself. Also, now that Gwenn and I are managing our own speaking schedule, I am wondering if the 1,000 schools we mailed postcards out to are going to make room for sexual health programming at their campuses.
I’m not good with feelings of doubt- is the book any good? Will Gwenn and I succeed with our speaking this Fall?
Somehow, in making a dramatic return to Cold’s Gym, I’m stepping up and challenging myself. My motivation to use the membership to its fullest is simple: I can’t have a coffee drink (iced mochas are my crack) if I don’t go to the gym. And tonight I rode the exercise bike for an hour, zapping more calories than I’d ever zapped during previous gym visits.
Which proves those waning energy levels were really just in my head.
Positively Yours,
Shawn
Remembering Jesse Helms
July 6, 2008
Jesse Helms died on July 4th, and I only know of him through his anti-gay statements pertaining to people with AIDS.
His solution to the epidemic in the 1990’s? It was simple: gay people should stop having sex. The AIDS crisis wasn’t the first-time that Americans got to see the machinations of the forwarding-thinking mind protected within Mr. Helm’s skullcap.
In 1950, while working on a political campaign, he helped to create an ad attacking a rival, which read: “White people, wake up before it is too late. Do you want Negroes working beside you, your wife and your daughters, in your mills and factories?”
Helms was rewarded with five terms in the U.S. Senate. Deemed to sharp a mind to keep to ourselves, he was also selected to chair the Foreign Relations Committee. Most importantly, however, was his 2002 visit from Bono, which occurred a year before Helms retired. On his political deathbed he admitted he had not done enough in the battle against AIDS.
It’s always touching when an 80 year-old man admits the follies and youthful indescretions of his 60’s.
The latter really irks me, because Jesse Helms probably got his copy of Achtung, Baby, signed before he died. I doubt I’ll ever get the same.
One of my dearly departed positoid pals, Stephen Gendin, wrote an article voicing his own frustrations back in 1996, the year I posted my first blog entry and began my journey living with HIV publicly. Gendin was among the vast number of incredible positoids who took me under their wing. In fact, his Poz column, “Jesse Helms Must Die”, was the first time I’d heard about Helms.
I know everyone who dies is angelic, but I’m saddened that Stephen wasn’t around to point out that one of the gay community’s most vocal opponents died on the 4th of July.
What a drama queen.
Positively Yours,
Shawn
This blog is dedicated to the memory of Stephen Gendin.
Rethinking the 4th of July
July 4, 2008
For most folks, the 4th of July is all about putting on your favorite pair of jean shorts, getting drunk, setting off fireworks and getting laid.
For me the 4th is all about the pranks. This time of year, fireworks are cheap and plentiful, and nothing spooks a person quite like a loud noise and a blaze of fire. The following educational video has made me rethink my plans for the day.
Positively Yours,
Shawn
PS… does anyone know how I can get that voice-over gig?
Funny Miss Virginia 2008 Video
July 2, 2008
To compete in the Miss Virginia pageant, you have to win a local title first. The new Miss Virginia entered this year’s competition as the reigning Miss Arlington.
Miss Arlington is run by a very cool group of folks, whom are affectionately dubbed “The Arlington Boys”. I remember meeting “The Boys” in 1999, when I went to my first Miss Virginia to watch Gwenn compete. In 2006, they had their first girl win the big crown (referenced as “HugGate”, jokingly, in previous post), but that was kind of expected since Adrianna Sgarlata was a huge frontrunner.
This year was different- if Miss Arlington was going to triumph, she was going to have to dig in her heels and take the crown. And that’s what Tara did. And when the smoke settled, and there were two girls left standing, the Arlington Boys were a powder keg waiting to explode…
Check out the moment from their perspective, forward to :50.