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I was looking for queer, gay or lesbian content to take my mind off study. I never knew what to make of Andy Warhol, but I didn't know him at all, this fond documentary is worth watching. He struck me initially as detached, almost like an idea that is not local or specific enough. This documentary fills in the human inside that Andy was, with his consent, because it is his diaries of the important relationships and people in his very full life, despite his early death. Cut to the chase: His childhood in 1928, probably an Old Soul Artisan (yes, this is my speculation) and being gay, and being bullied for being gay and "strange" (read gentle and observant) provoked him to move to New York to pursue work as a commercial artist and meet people he could create and collaborate with. It covers his creative collaborations with Basquiat, Haring and Scharf and his community in New York during the AIDS war that claimed many lives much earlier than otherwise would have been. It is an interesting commentary on an epidemic that was deemed to be a gay disease (1981 The Gay Cancer, Kaposis sarcoma) versus 2022 where we are living in a pandemic that takes whoever it can in spite of the demographic and the acceptability of the susceptible demographic. Andy was terrified of getting AIDS. He had many friends who were dying of AIDS. This story is told with love and fondness for Andy. I feel like I know him. I was moved to tears with the level of love his remaining friends (all his ex partners have died) spoke of Andy with. I think what I loved the most about this documentary that has at least 6 or 7 episodes, was that he was courageous and gentle and truthful about his life. https://www.netflix.com/nz/title/81026142
The massacre at Orlando's Pulse has hit me in very unexpected ways, and I can't even get enough into trance to ask Michael about it, just yet. Here is the post I left on facebook that expresses my feelings today. I just have to ride these out for a bit before I can sort through them, but my heart is heavy right now. I'm completely, mentally, and emotionally shaken by the Orlando Massacre. For the painful aching I feel for those who were murdered, but also for this being something I have feared since childhood. When I went to my first Gay Pride Parade, I was terrified, not because it was a strange new world of openness, but because I thought our gathering together would make it easier for all of us to be killed. Can you imagine this having to be a factor of concern in your wanting to spend time with like-minded loved ones in public? Yesterday's massacre proves that this isn't just fantastical fear. It is a real and present danger in LGBT life every single day. When I was in high school, I wrote a term paper on the concept of "sin" and the absurdity of the whole idea. As part of that process of writing that term paper, I had to interview fellow schoolmates to get their opinion. I asked several questions regarding those things considered to be "sins." I was mostly delighted by the intelligence and sensibility of my fellow schoolmates, but I'll never forget the gut punch of horror I felt when several people who were fairly close to me, very good to me, and shared tons of laughs together, told me that "gays should be lined up and shot to death," "rounded up and put on an island to live like the animals they are," "tortured for being a disease in humanity." All fueled and justified by their religious beliefs. My post-high school days were spent in a personally loving world with loving people, but *this* is the larger world that LGBT endures from childhood to young adulthood, and continue to see in the 21st Century. There is something deeply wrong about this.