Back at her apartment after dinner, we played around with Lori’s Macintosh for an hour. I put on my jacket to leave, kissed and hugged Ronna good night, and one kiss led to another. We were making out as much as you can when you’re both totally vertical until I finally took off my jacket and we went into her bedroom.
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There’s a little patch of Band-Aid on my arm where my blood was taken for the AIDS antibody test. Perhaps in as early as a week, I’ll know if I’ve been exposed to the AIDS virus. Dr. Rundle, the gay doctor I went to, told me to sign a fictitious name to the consent form. I signed it “William F. Buckley, Jr.”
These artists live and breathe to provide their audiences with moments — moments to reflect, to think, to feel. Moments we don’t get every day with our faces buried in laptops or our eyes glued to television sets. They give us moments that remind us of our humanity.