My Night With AIDS |
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beezelbub
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- Sunday, November 6 2005, 19:16:24 (CET) from 71.116.90.200 - pool-71-116-90-200.snfcca.dsl-w.verizon.net Network - Mac OS - Internet Explorer Website: Website title: |
...by 5:30 I was slicked down and dressed...our good pal had offered me the use of his car...a good thing because it would have been awkward to drive up to valet parking with either of mine...one a red, fire breathing classic Bronco with oversized tires, the other a Suburban that looks like the only Suburban USED as one...the same one that was in a few demolition derbys in San Miguel...the same one that I used to run over a man and horse, unfortunately only killing the horse...the same one that was impounded by Mexican police and searched for weapons etc and etc. As it was I pulled up to what looked a convention of men in top hats, at the front of the Ritz-Carlton, at the same exact moment Fred Aprim pulled up in HIS borowed car. The Ritz has been made out of what used to be a business college that failed...in a magnificant old mansion up by Knob Hill in San Francisco. Handing the over-eager fellow my keys, I strode, manfully, into the lobby ( I always try to walk manfully...saves so much confusion later)...where a distinct odor of bad fish hit me full in the face...it would have been far more upsetting if this hadn't been an evening of gourmet food...so I just put it off to some exquisite sauce I was stupid to recognize...but man did it STINK of an old fish market. It's an odd sort of hotel...you enter at street level...only it's the fourth floor. I asked at the desk where Narai's event was and the lady said it was on the first floor...I got in the elevator with two older gentlemen one of who's single cuff link cost more than my suit and pressed "1"...only to find myself going down to the basement...odd. I don't know whether it's the new thing for fancy hotels to have the lobby on the roof and the banquet halls and rooms down by the boiler...but I was on my best behavior so I didn't make a scene... The festivities began at six...I was there at 6:20. There must have been some 60 people there already...a welcoming committee no doubt...or a lynch mob...the disconcerting thing about us is that you can never tell the difference till they bring the rope out and even then you have to look closely. The area was made of a long central reception room with another leading off at a right angle...through both rooms you could enter the main banquet hall, only the doors were closed...we were to mill about, drinking, chatting and not seeing each other's jewelry till 7:30 at which time the closed doors were to be flung open and we could enter and dine. At one end of the reception hall there was a table with an overdressed person sauteeing scallops...that explained the horrible stench...though I'm sure they were almost fresh. Several other persons walked about with trays of wine glassess and a variety of things on sticks they SAID was chicken. The bar was open, though I didn't see any serious drinking the entire night. There was a table where you gave your name to three or four delightful young ladies...so I gave mine. What should be my good fortune, gentle reader. but the woman to greet me turned out to be our own Nahrain, looking ever so lovely...had SHE been on a stick...oh well. I was handed a large folder with my auction number blazoned on the back...this was so we could all hold the cards up during the auction....inside there were all sorts of bits of information about AIDS and the people bringing it to you. I knew I wasn't bidding on anything so I left mine somewhere. ...felt a little silly...I mean everyone was dressed to the nines and yet each of them carried around what looked like nothing more than a report card with them as they balanced their champagne glass in the other hand...and the huge black printed letters reminded me of a Tom DeLay photo op. As the minutes ticked by more and more people arrived tiill it got quite crowded...there were said to be 400 people in attendance. I spotted a few faces I recognized...Aprim of course acted the entire night like we'd never given each other tongue in a toilet...but he's in denial about a lot of things. I saw Rosie Malek Yonan and her delightful relative...but Roise seemed to have forgotten me...I saw other old faces too...I saw Danny David and chatted with him about his new projects...he's now making sculpture so we discussed things artistic for a bit. Danny has to be one of the most talented people I've ever known personally...it doesn't matter what he puts his hand to...there is an inner and unfailing sense of style...plus which his hands are damn good at execution...he got the gifted hands from his father...the style definitely came from somewhere else...though Narsai is no slacker in that department. I saw our good pal whom I will simply refer to as X...and chatted with him. We hadn't seen each other since I arrived back from Mexico...one couldn't help but notice Aprim hovering around near-by, so X excused himself to say hello...me, I kept a shit-eatin' grin on my face as I tried to catch Aprim's eye and give him the old wink-wink,,,but to his credit Aprim kept the poker he carries around up his arse firmly in place the whole evening...I think he believes his dignity is attached to one end of it. A little later I saw Narsai's wife and we shook hands and said a few words...I went to sit at the far end of one room where some comfortable chairs were...close to the bar, though I didn't have a drink all night. I was carrying a brown paper bag with the gift for Dr George in it...as I sat there two young men approached to introduce themselves...we chatted a bit about things Assyrian ...seems one of them runs a new radio station for ZOWAA and asked if I'd agree to be interviewed...sure, why not, sez I. Later, when I was up and about again, the vice-president of AIDS stopped me and we shook hands warmly...this was odd, thinks I...isn't he afraid I'll spit on him or something? He said he was so pleased I'd come...said it had been a long time since we'd spoken last...and that was that. Narsai was flitting around greeting people and consuting with the staff and people in AIDS about last minute details...he'd seen me from across a crowded room but didn't fly to my side...which was fine with me....I didn't expect him to be gracious when people were present...although, in fairness, he did finally slink by and pretend great surprise that I'd come....ha ha. As I was chatting some other people up...I saw, coming across the room with a big grin on his face, the 17 year old son of some once-upon-a-time pals...whom I'd offended by mentioning their names in this place. I hadn't seen the kid in four years and, since his parents were Assyrian and fed him well, he'd grown nice and tall. We threw arms around each other and kissed...next to him was his shyly smiling lady friend...we chatted about school and what he wants to do next...he reminded me that he still had a small bronze I'd given him some years back of a pair of lions...said it was as dear to him now as it had ever been etc. Sweet kid who is turining the corner to manhood very nicely indeed. All this time I could see Dr Donny George over against a wall with a small crowd of people waiting to speak with him or just be introduced. X said he would introduce us as they had gotten to know each other some,,,I apparently missed a fine lecture he gave at UC Berkeley the day before, I mentioned to X that I'd been told by AIDS that Dr George and Kana are good friends and that had been the reason not to go through with presenting him with the bronze sculpture I had in the bag...I said I didn't want to place Dr George in an uncomfortable position and maybe it was best I didn't follow through...X replied that this was nonsense...that the evening before there had been a dinner at Narsai's house and Dr. George had seen all my pieces there...and earlier in the day he'd been taken around San Francisco, visited the DeYoung Musuem as well as the Ashurbanipal Monument...and X was sure there would be nothing awkward at all...quite the contrary. An intersting sidebar...at the DeYoung Museum whom should Donny see but the director of the British Museum...they fell into each other's arms as two old friends and collegues...good stuff, no? When the people standing around Dr George thinned out a bit...though Aprim was still hovering close-by, X took me over and introduced us. We shook hands warmly and began chattering right away...he mentioned my sculptures...said he'd seen the Ashurbanipal..and immediately pointed out a few "irregularities". I found it delightful because, while I've heard this from every jackass we ever produced...I was now getting it from someone who KNOWS what he's talking about. All the time he was speaking he was holding onto my hand...it got a bit awkward...I mean I don't mind holding hands with someone,,,but not on a first date. I finally made some silly joke about this being San Francisco, after all...and that I was practically engaged to Fred Aprim....he chuckled and released his grip...and continued pointing out those irregularities...though he wound up by saying that he realized as an artist I took some liberties etc. Then I told him why I had sculpted as I had...why I had tried to cram every detail I could on the first monument because I wasn't sure I'd live past that one to ever make another...and so on. He understood it all, of course. I mentioned the Shumirum and how I had changed her jewelry when that famous tomb had been excavated and those unmatched gold objects discovered...he asked about the monument and I gave himn a very short history of it...he was incredulous when i said one old coot had stopped Chicago from installing it by threatening to sue them if they dared it...he demanded to know who the old coot was and fairly busrt at the semas when I told him..."But...I KNOW John Nimrod"..he said...as if he'd just met him for the first time that vry moment and had to let go of whatever opinions he'd formed before...we discussed it some more and went on to more pleasant topics... Sometime during our chat I noticed that everyone had cleared away and the two of us were alone...both waving our arms in the air...though he was by far more subdued in that regard...but then I'm the Pagan. I asked him point blank if he believed we were Assyrians...he replied without hesitation that of course we were...I then launched into my thing and he heard me out with a few smiles and a few more thoughtful looks...then he argued..and I argued back., with great calm, yet with pasion too and dignity...as if we just might BE Assyrians..I said I didn't believe for a minute that I was "Assyrian"...especially not if that meant I HAD to be Christian...he agreed that Assyrians had converted to Islam but added that, "they stopped being Assyrian" when they did...I asked then why they didn't stop being Assyrian when they converted to Christianity...that caught him off guard but he replied that as Christians we had kept Assyrianism alive...wasn't that just Christianity we kept alive...I asked...well, no...not exactly said he...it really wasn't the place to have the entire argument out, but I think I FINALLY met someone who won't go Ape on me...someone with whom I could pursue the discussion to a fruitfull end...without either of us calling our relatives names. While we were chatting, a friend...one of the women responsible for the event...came over and threw her arms around me....Dr George knew her, of course...but hadn't known I did...I kept listening to him talk and interjecting comments myself...all the while with one arm around this lovely lady...when she drifted off, her mother...who is even lovlier, came over and threw HER arms around me...let me say that I always throw back. We continued the discussion with arms entertwined till she floated off...and an Armenian friend of mine...who paid a small fortune for his table, came over and WE threw arms around each other...it was a very huggy evening for yoors trooli...wish you'd been there. I excused myself finally, saying I'd taken enough of his time, that others were waiting to speak with him..indeed we'd been very purposefully interrupted by a few grumpy looking old men during the course of our discussion whose purpose seemed to be to rescue Dr George...only he evidently didn't need rescuing...so they went off...rather disappointed I thought. Before leaving him I said I had something for him...a small gift on behalf of several Assyrians I know who wanted to extend their best wishes and pay their respects for all he has done for our Heritage..that while some, like Aprim, had run to the United States to plead with Bush to attack Iraq, because he was being persecuted there...Dr George had remained behind to salvage what could be saved and protect it...so Aprim would have something to write and weep over....that each must do what he or she does best etc. I added that if he had any qualms about receiving it, he should just say so and there would be no hurt feelings on my part at all. He replied that there was no problem about anything...then asked what it was...I pulled the sculpture out of the bag and handed it to him...he put on his glasses and examined it closely..chuckled a bit , saying he would put it on his desk when he returned to the Baghdad Museum...I asked if he'd pose for a photo and X snapped the shot you see. ...I drifted away...got rid of the paper bag...and settled in to watching. Coming around one corner I spied Lincoln Bejan, the unfortunate husband of the, now, unfortunate Jackie Bejan...we agreed not to let our eyes meet the whole evening...but I couldn't help wondering how I would have reacted if I'd met the man who'd spilled the beans about my wife all over the world-wide web...would I have taken it so calmly? But then I decided that would never happen because I'd never HAVE that kind of wife to begin with...neither would I dawdle with that sort of woman...so I left him in peace. ...I saw Jackie too...but only from the back...she never once turned around...which made her the only person in her party to face the wall for an hour and a half (hello Jackie), while the rest gazed out over the crowd....I never got a good look at her,,,and neither did I want to...her arse end remained hidden behind a low table all the while...but it was a big table. ...it was now close to the appointed time and either I'd gotten used to the smell or the gourmet guy with the old fish had taken himself off...but we were summoned in to take our places for the meal...to be contd. --------------------- |
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