Forward: In The Direction of My Dreams!

The following text is copy of a letter I recently wrote to my dear friend and mentor, Steven Tierney, Ed.D, CAS, concerning our desired reconnection and a (re)embracing of our friendship. Let me precursor the text by explaining a bit the significant role Steven has played in my life during the past five to six years:

I first met Steven when I began to volunteer as the first-ever HIV+ youth advocate on the SFDPH's HIV Prevention Planning Council (HPPC), of which Steven was then (in 2003-2004) the co-Chairman or co-President. Steven immediately caught my attention with his rambunctious spirit, his good sense of humor, his astute intelligence and his compassion for & understanding of gay youth. He took a liking to me very quickly, as I too had a spunky personality during those early years when I had first settled into a San Francisco lifestyle and had begun my work as an HIV/AIDS advocate & activist.

In an organization dogged by its member's own often trite though terribly consequential misconceptions of youth, Steven's "pro-QHereKidzSF" spirit & personality shined brightly above all others. He himself was a staunch advocate for all youth infected & affected by HIV/AIDS, so I knew straight away that he would be someone that I would want to emulate & to mold myself after. Thus, he became my unspoken, unrecognized, though pleasingly purposed & positively presumed mentor, or something similar to it (for lack of a better word!).


My membership and participation in the HPPC was sadly suddenly interrupted in late 2004, when I fell ill with PCP Pneumonia, became AIDS-symptomatic and suffered from my six month schizo-delusional psychosis. I remember vaguely but surely Steven's visits with me in the hospital. I had few friends then, so few visitors, and anyone that I encountered while strapped to a gurney, waiting around aimlessly for miracles to befall me, figured directly into the complex loopholes of the unstable, psychotic storyline that my befuddled brain had concocted.

When Steven came to visit me in the hospital, I imagined him as a superior being: my Higher Power, my Protector, an archangel/alien being sent to guard me against all influences & preponderances of the "Evil Ones: The Night Nurses." After six months of such confounded curiosity, my mind eventually began to heal itself; thanks to a cocktail of antiretrovirals and psychotropic medications that I was prescribed.

In hindsight, thinking back on this experience together, Steven & I laugh about it today with witless wonder & amazement, befuddled still both of us by the outrageous neuroses that my mind had at once constructed and then deconstructed slowly (but, surely!).

Also, in early 2008, towards the end of my acute eight-month hospital rehabilitation, after my second tragic fall into the grip ... into the strangle hold ... of AIDS: another incapacitating pneumonia, but this time, Gangrene as well, or a severe necrotizing bacterial infection of the face, which lead to the amputation and still ongoing craniofacial reconstruction of half of my mouth and nose, and a good portion of my upper jaw, ... Steven came to visit me during my infirmity & seclusion.

I had merely the grotesque semblance of a face at the time: my mouth was really just a misshapen mound of leg flesh that curled into a drooling pustule at the upper right side of my still remaining lower lip. Steven came to my bed side to witness me in utter defeat, terribly scarred & wounded by my disease and by my addiction; he was not afraid to stare directly into my bare, full-frontal, frightening face still to express his love and support for me.

He showed such compassion, such sympathy, such remorse that I fell deeply into goodly, godly gratitude for having him in my life at the time, without judgment, with no thought of rejection. ... He showed only acceptance & understanding then.

After I left the hospital, towards the middle of 2008, Steven continued to visit me weekly in my home. Once I had enough courage to venture out into the world with a mask on, he would even accompany me to the movie theatre to catch some blockbuster releases, so as if to prove to me that I did have at least some semblance of a life still.

Steven Tierney hasn't left my side since he discovered what tragedy I had suffered through during the past two years; even though, when I left the hospital and returned home, I immediately found a little clear Ziploc baggy of Crystal Meth shards & powder, retrieved my old pipe from its hiding place and began an unrelenting spiral downward again into addiction. I began smoking Meth day in & day out, despite all the suffering I had lived through & all the terrifying lessons I should have learned (but didn't!).

You see, Steven is a recovering alcoholic/addict with more than thirteen years of clean time, and maintaining a relationship with some sad soul who was still suffering through active addiction & use has weighed heavily upon him.


I don't believe that Steven would object to my disclosure of his addictions. He is a very out & proud gay man in recovery. In fact, his professional concentration or specialization is the study of the mental health of drug addicts & alcoholics in recovery. Currently, he is the Professor & Program Director of the Community Mental Health Graduate Program at the California Institute for Integral Studies (CIIS), where he is pioneering new integrative, somatic curriculum for students of the mental health profession.

Even when he was Director of HIV Prevention for the SFDPH AIDS Office and co-chairman of the HPPC (or as a member of the Board of Directors of the San Francisco Public Health Foundation; CLICK HERE! for brief bio.), he often spoke very openly (and jokingly) about his recovery. So, I hope that instead of being angered by my mention of his addictions, he might come to appreciate the gesture of memorializing the profound impact he has had on my life with the presentation of this text here in my very own personal, public domain for free-thinking & pontification on the Web.

Recently, ... say, within that past two to three months ... Steven has buffered himself from the negative influences of ME, Matthew, Matt(e)o | QHereKidSF: the addict in active use; he has chosen to distance himself from me and suspend all communications. I wrote this letter, after weeks of struggling to implement my own strategies for recovery, in an attempt to get sober finally; for me, for him, for anyone I may ever touch with the telling of my tragic stories.

Steven had originally volunteered to accompany me to a MEDITATION & RECOVERY Meeting at the Zen Center - San Francisco every Monday night, but I fell out of the habit of going, because the "Twelve Step" approach wasn't working for me for a time. I wrote this letter tonight, after returning home from my first "Twelve Step" Meeting in three months: Saturday night CRYSTAL METH ANONYMOUS BEGINNERS' GROUP, from 8:30PM to 10:00PM, as a solemn gesture of extending the olive branch of PEACE & Reconciliation...Reconnection, etc. to Steven.

I plan on attending the Monday night MEDITATION & RECOVERY Meeting this week, for the first time in just as long a time; and there, I will give this letter to Steven, if he is attending. If not, then I will mail him the letter and hope that he gets it in short time.

More importantly, I hope that he is touched by my words...by my effort to explicate every bit of minutia that defines my current struggle to stay sober, and that he is moved to reconnect with me, continuing to support me on my journey toward recovery. Here, finally, I present to any random readers of my raucous, rambunctious ramblings copy of the text of my letter to a dear friend & mentor, Steven Tierney, Ed.D, CAS:

Dear Steven,

Time & distance have gotten the better of us these past few months; I only hope that our friendship hasn't suffered because of this. Perhaps, it is a false assumption, but I can't help to imagine that the separation that has grown between us is something that you may have purposefully or subconsciously imposed for the sake of your own self-preservation and in keeping with your own personal journey of recovery.

I have been in a very unhealthy place for a while; at least, I WAS in such a place, suffering under the full scale strain & choke of active addiction. There was relapse after relapse. So often it would happen that I'd find myself using again only days afterI had once again tried to (re)commit myself to recovery, that there never really was any substantial interruption or end to my using. I had never really for the very first time committed myself to sobriety, so there's no need for me to talk of doing it again & again, over & over, (re)committing myself to anything.

So, I don't blame you for having wanted to keep your distance, if that is indeed what it is you've been trying to do. I would never want our friendship to be a burden or a bad influence on you—I only want us both to gain & benefit from our interactions together. This is why I myself have consciously tried to keep my own distance from you: because, I assumed that you would want nothing to do with me if I were still actively using, still moving backward in the wrong direction, opposite & away from sobriety. You only deserve to have a better version of me in your life, so that there's no risk of me bringing you down.


I did have good intentions when I decided not to go to Monday Night MEDITATION & RECOVERY at the Zen Center any more and stopped communicating with you. My aim was to settle into my own sobriety and to find my bearings, to progress a little down my own path toward recovery, to make sure that I was moving in a positive, forward direction, before reaching out to you again. In the meantime, during all of this distance « aux lèvres droits et fermés, » there has been progress in my life, indeed!

I have made progress, inching deeper & deeper into the better habits of the "straight & narrow." Truth is: for a while, I stopped going to Recovery Meetings all together, because either the meetings were in and of themselves intensely triggering for me or because I simply felt so out of touch, detached and isolated from the greater Recovery Community and believed that I did not / could not / would not ever share in their common experiences.

But, I've realized (slowly!) (in retrospect, ... after much concerted effort!) that I do share stories with many of the addicts & alcoholics that I encounter at Recovery Meetings, even if my own unique story took such a brutal, tragic turn for the worse that no other addict could ever presume to understand or sympathize with (or so I am stubbornly set on believing!).

Instead of committing to "Ninety in Ninety" and really consuming myself in Step Study or finding a sponsor—the traditional way—I said to myself, "Well, if the 'Twelve Steps' aren't working for me right now ... if tradition isn't proving effective and I can't seem to find my bearings steeped in it, ... then it's time that I sought out or pursued other avenues toward Recovery."

Once I decided to take some steps in another direction (not in the wrong direction; just in a different direction!), then I began to make progress. During the time that I have spent away from you, I have (YES, INDEED!) tripped in, out, in and out of active addiction again & again, but I have also begun to discover my own Recovery Community ... at NEW LEAF: Services for Our Community!! I started attending NEW LEAF HIV+ & METH ABSTINENCE RECOVERY SUPPORT GROUPS two times a week about two months ago, and I have really gained some solid footing by participating in these groups.

Only after a relatively short delay, I was finally assigned a therapist. Her name is Stacey Rodgers, MFT; she's this really cool femme dyke lesbian, complete with arms covered in tatts & hair cropped short like a pixie, who cites Eckhart Tolle during our regular meditations on spirituality!! YAY!! QHereKidzSF!! Not only am I truly gaining from my interactions with my new therapist, I have also begun to make a conscious effort to participate and to share in group. In fact, at the start of my very first NEW LEAF HIV+ RECOVERY SUPPORT GROUP, I immediately engaged myself and asked for "share time."

I waited until only 15 minutes remained in the session, making sure that I was indeed the last person to speak and that I had ample time to tell that which needed to be told. That's when I opened the flood gates and let the tears start to flow. I was sure that what I had to say would be a very, very unwelcome surprise for the other members of the group; but nonetheless, I went ahead and told my story.

Exasperated, practically hyper-ventilating, my skin boiling in anxiety, anticipation and angst, I painted my dark, dismal, death-defying portrait. I gutted myself from the inside, gushing forth sobs and sobs of anguish, so thankful that I finally had a platform, a soap box, a podium from which I could recount my harrowing saga ... thankful to have a small crowd of men surrounding me, forced (or perhaps willing!) to listen. During the final quarter hour of the group session, I speedily but succinctly explained in no weak or shallow terms what tragedy unspeakable I have lived though during the past two years.


I made sure that in telling my story, I emphasized the detachment and isolation that I had been feeling as a disjointed member of the Recovery Community, telling of how I had repeatedly ... time & time again ... failed to make any connections with people at "Twelve Step" Meetings ... how I felt so ignored and shunned by others who never made a single effort to initiate conversation with me, because I stand out like a sore thumb wearing my mask and often have shut myself up in silence and in shame, as if no one wanted anything to do with me. By this point in my diatribe, I was sobbing at full force, and my mask was drenched with tears. I must have been an utterly pathetic sight to see!!

But, my befuddled, melancholic moaning worked!! Well, let's just say that most of the men in group sat in silence, blankly staring into the empty space before them, avoiding my grasping, gloomy glances in response to my story, while another smaller number of my audience at the time were moved to stand up from their chairs, gather around me and offer, one by one, their tight, squeezing, sincere embraces.

Six men out of ten others introduced themselves to me, and they all offered to accompany me to my next "Twelve Step" Meeting, whenever I felt up to going again. Three of the guys in the group even gave me their phone numbers and emphatically begged me to call them whenever I need to talk.

One man patted me on the back as we were leaving and said, "No matter what anyone tells you to the contrary, you can rest assured that you are doing very well; all things considered! You're a very strong person." I politely thanked him for his support and left the group to walk home alone down Polk Street.

The group adjourned at half past one in the afternoon, after an hour and a half of honest, open, committed, willing discussion, and I walked away feeling as if I had achieved a very profound reckoning with my own doomsday, pitiful perspective. I felt satisfied, accomplished, appreciated, listened to, heard; but most importantly, understood! I had experienced a milestone. I disclosed more than just my serostatus & my addiction; I told my story of tragedy and terror in an intimate, confined setting to open, attentive, sympathetic ears. Thus was born my sounding board, my podium, my community!

Sadly, (I have no earthly idea why or what triggered it!!) I immediately fell into the habit of using again after that very successful first meeting at NEW LEAF, sabotaging any degree of progress or any forward steps I may have made that day, and I continued to use ... not stopping ... until I forced myself to return to NEW LEAF after two weeks of absence. I suppose that I had convinced myself that any positive foothold I may have gained after recounting my story during my very first group session had been a fluke, a chance error in common human nature.

I wasn't expecting to encounter such good will, empathy & caring in a group of anonymous strangers; on the contrary, I was expecting to be shunned (as I had been by many a "Twelve Stepper" before!) and rejected, so that is exactly what I convinced myself had happened, until I allowed myself to hunker down into this new reality and buck up a little, dragging myself reluctantly back to the group again; this time, for a second try; just to see whether or not I had been hoodwinked by my own wanting desire to be accepted and appreciated.

I didn't ask for "share time" at the start of my second group session, not wanting to monopolize on all the sympathy that seemed so forthcoming during my first group, but I did participate, adding my own two cents in at the close of any open-ended comment and only when people had asked for feedback. The session was marked by some very engaging conversation. The focus of this, my second group, was "MAKING THE MOST OF YOUR VISIT WITH YOUR DOCTOR."

Someone shared a rather intimate account of his struggle to decide whether or not to begin a cocktail of medications; now that it was summer time, and he could handle any degree of adjustment to his prescriptions that might have to suffer through. I was able to respond to this discussion with more of a telling of my own story, sharing only that which I thought directly related.


I kindly explained how the Harvard-trained AIDS specialist who had first examined my initial blood work after I seroconverted in 2002 calculated my life's expectancy with a little modular sliding scale cardboard calculator and told me that I'd only have six to ten years to live before I developed AIDS and died from the disease. That's to say: if I didn't start taking medication right away. "She said it as if it were so matter of fact; I was shocked ... appalled!!" I said.

I went on to explain how I couldn't start meds right away, because I was scheduled to depart to Italy for a year of study within the following three months, and I didn't have any American or Italian health insurance to pay for my monthly cocktail while I was abroad. So I waited until well after I had returned and settled into my new life in San Francisco before ever considering going on medication.

And, the reason why I went on a cocktail in the first place, I told the group, was because only two short years after I had been diagnosed HIV+, I developed PCP Pneumonia and a schizo-delusional psychosis. After only two years ... just two years! ...I was already AIDS symptomatic.

Finally, I told the group how I eventually went on a cocktail and how immediately everything dramatically improved. But, I said, "That only lasted two more years; during which time, I became heavily addicted to Crystal Meth, got fired from my really awesome job and stopped taking my medications." I told the guy who had originally shared, two important things:

1.) ANTIRETROVIRALS & NARCOTICS DON"T MIX!

(The whole group applauded that statement resoundingly...)

2.) IF YOU'RE GOING TO START A COCKTAIL, BE READY TO COMMIT; DON'T PLAN ON SKIPPING DOSES OR GOING OFF THE MEDICATIONS COMPLETELY; AND IF YOU DO TAKE A VACATION FROM YOUR COCKTAIL, MAKE SURE YOU'RE NOT OFF YOUR MEDICATION FOR MORE THAN SIX MONTHS!! If you wait any longer than six months to restart your cocktail, I explained, then the virus will begin to take hold of you and will have a much more worse impact on your immune system than it ever had before.

I told him all of this speaking from personal experience, and I explained that this was exactly what had happened to me—what led up to my terrible illness, my three-time foray with death and my disfigurement—I was off my meds for more than a year; and to make matters worse, I was heavily addicted to Meth: A TERRIBLE, DEADLY COMBO!

"BEWARE! Watch yourself! Make the commitment, and don't stop! Learn from my lessons, and don't make the same mistakes that I made, 'cause it will definitely come around behind you and bite you in the ass!" I promised him decidedly. "Hell, it will take a chomp out of the whole left side of you, if you give it the chance!!" And that's where I ended my sharing, only to be reaffirmed by nearly everyone else in the group by then, until the moderator chose to close the discussion and move on to "final thoughts" and meditation.

The reason why I am going to such length describing my experiences at NEW LEAF to you, is because I would like to impress upon you the profound, acute degree of my effort toward Recovery. The steps have been small & seldom, so far, ... but I have achieved some very important milestones.

I have made progress!! I want you to know the details of my experience in Recovery, so that you can appreciate this progress and to garner or gain some reassurances that I am moving in a positive direction and am ready to recommit to and reaffirm our friendship without pressuring you or negatively impacting your longterm, successful history of sobriety. I hope that you will find in all that I am telling you now reason enough as well to reenter my life with due confidence in the changes that I am making.

That second NEW LEAF HIV+ RECOVERY SUPPORT GROUP I went to was only just this past week; but as I've told you already, I marked that meeting with a milestone of concerted movement forward: conscious effort to reach out and connect with those few new friends I have made there. At the end of that group session, I dashed quickly over to one of the guys who had given me his phone number after having heard my story during my first meeting.

I grabbed him by the elbow to ask him if he'd be willing to accompany me to a CRYSTAL METH ANONYMOUS Meeting during the next week. He smiled and said, "Sure! Just give me a call..." So, two days later (yesterday!), I called him, and he invited me to this evening's (Saturday!) CMA BEGINNERS' GROUP in the Mission District. He even volunteered to pick me up from my apartment and drive me there in his partner's car.


So that's what I did tonight: CMA BEGINNERS' GROUP, and it went swimmingly well!! I had a buddy to accompany me there and to introduce me to people ... to chat with me during awkward moments of silence. He made me feel very comfortable and welcome; so much so that I even began to interact with people on my own when he left me alone to go to the bathroom or to get coffee. I gained a lot from this group tonight, and I intend to return next weekend to the group with or without my NEW LEAF friend.

In fact, now that I've begun to tiptoe ankle deep into the pebbled, strolling stream of scheduled sobriety meetings, I see no use in hesitating reluctantly any longer, putting off NA/CMA as if it were something to be avoided. Actually, as a matter of fact, I want to use the headway that I have gained with this first attempt again at Recovery as a jumping board by which to dive deep into the head-high waters of wellness!!

I've already developed a schedule of daily Recovery Meetings to attend to, and I plan on continuing this positive movement forward with another CMA Meeting sometime midday or evening tomorrow. Then, Monday night, I'll be sure to go to MEDITATION & RECOVERY at the Zen Center, where I hope to run into you and to give you this letter—if you are there!! If you're not there (WHO KNOWS! YOU MIGHT BE IN AFRICA!), then I will just mail you this letter. I suppose that I could always just call you tomorrow (Sunday!) or on Monday afternoon to see if you'd like to rendez-vous before the meeting, but I think that I'd rather prefer having the pleasure of surprising you. HOW PLEASED YOU MIGHT BE TO SEE ME, I HOPE!! We'll see!

Then, on Tuesday, I plan on continuing this streak of inspiration, commitment and open, willing participation in Recovery by attending the weekly HIV/HepC CMA RECOVERY SUPPORT GROUP at the Castro Country Club that I have already attended numerous times before.

It will be good to see if I recognize anyone who's there; and in keeping with my determined desire to be outgoing and to introduce myself to and interact with others, I will be sure to do just that there, on Tuesday evening, so that I can continue to build my own Recovery Community ... to make more friends. It will only get easier with each new time I make a conscious effort to participate in/with the groups.

On Wednesday, I'll have the first of two weekly NEW LEAF RECOVERY SUPPORT GROUPS: the one I've already attended twice to much avail!! Then, on Thursday, there is a CMA STEP STUDY GROUP at CPMC Davies that I used to frequent, back when I first made the attempt to follow the traditional "Twelve Step" path toward Recovery, and I plan on putting that meeting back on my schedule and on committing to attend each week from now on.

Fridays round off the cyclic schedule of the Recovery Calendar for me with my second of two weekly NEW LEAF RECOVERY SUPPORT GROUPS: METH AB. SUPPORT, which I haven't yet felt well enough to attend. I will start this week! OH! AND I ALMOST FORGOT: Tuesdays, I'll have a double dose of Recovery Support, because it's at 1:00PM in the afternoon on these days that I have my standing appointment with my new therapist: Stacey Rodgers, MFT!!

I'll try my damnedest no to let therapy in the afternoon give me the excuse not to go to CMA in the evenings on Tuesdays. I'll just have to write Tuesdays off as a full day of Recovery Work and nothing else. Sounds like a plan; doesn't it? What do you think of all of this?

It's a lot to throw at you all of a sudden; I realize that, but try not to doubt my ability to follow through. All this energy and seemingly renewed commitment to pursue a path toward Recovery that involves "Twelve Step" study & meetings, finding a sponsor, connecting with my Recovery Community, etc. is born out of a sincere desire to follow through along forward with my recent milestones and progress.

I don't want to lose the rhythm that I have gotten myself into; not now, not yet, not ever!! This new beginning has started off so well; I'd like to see myself continue to move forward in a positive direction toward sobriety.


THERE! I've given you the full run down of my recent experiences and plans for the immediate future. These are just small steps, but I hope that they are large enough for me to gain your confidence again. Now that I have these plans cemented into a weekly schedule, then you can expect to see me from now on every Monday night at the Zen Center for MEDITATION & RECOVERY.

And, I'd hope that you'd also consider, if you trust in my good intentions and in my ability to follow through, spending more time with me each week, so that I might once again truly begin and be able to prosper from your guidance and support: from our friendship! I also dearly hope to have a positive impact on your life this next time around; so much so that we don't risk falling out of communication with each other once again.

You've been such a true, caring friend for so long, Steven. You've seen me through the thick and the thin; the weak and the strong; the poor and the rich of spirit ... I MISS YOU, GOOD OL'FRIEND!! And I hope that I can continue to count on you for guidance, support and understanding! I mean the best ... Don't you, too?!!

Your friend always,

Matt(e)o | QHereKidSF
Matthew D. Blanchard
San Francisco, CA 94109-7821
[MDB2009.05.30@23:47PST]

BY THE WAY, THIS MAY SEEM LIKE I'M JUMPING THE GUN A LITTLE BIT, BUT I WANTED TO TELL YOU ANWAY: TONIGHT AT CMA BEGINNERS' GROUP, WHILE I WAS LISTENING TO THE SPEAKER, I COULDN'T HELP MYSELF BUT TO IMAGINE THE DAY MANY MONTHS DOWN MY PATH TOWARD RECOVERY, WHEN IT IS MY TURN TO STAND BEFORE A GROUP TO TELL MY STORY.

I THOUGHT, "WHAT A STORY I'VE GOT TO TELL!" PEOPLE WILL MOST DEFINITELY BE BULLED OVER (or, in French, as they say: « boulversés ») BY MY STORY: SHOCKED, TERRORIZED, FLABBERGASTED!

FOR A BRIEF MOMENT, I FEARED THE DAY WHEN MY TURN MIGHT COME, BUT THEN I CALMED MY NERVES WITH A PRAYER: "SHOULD MY STORY HAVE EVEN HALF THE AFFECT IT HAD ON MY NEW LEAF RECOVERY SUPPORT GROUP, THEN I'LL BE BLESSED TO BE ABLE TO TRULY TOUCH PEOPLE'S HEARTS & TO CHANGE THEIR LIVES ONE DAY IN THE NEAR FUTURE!! AMEN." MY STORY IS ACHING TO BE TOLD. THERE'S SO MUCH FOR PEOPLE TO LEARN FROM IT, EVEN IF IT IS HORRIFYING & TRAGIC.


I'VE LET CRYSTAL METH & HIV/AIDS DESTROY MY LIFE MORE THAN ONCE. I CAN'T CHANCE LETTING THAT HAPPEN AGAIN! I HAVE SURVIVED FOR ONE REASON AND ONE REASON ONLY: TO TEACH, TO TELL, TO SHARE MY STORY FOR THE SAKE OF SALVATION & REDEMPTION OF MYSELF & OF ALL OTHER ADDICTS THAT I MAY ENCOUNTER ONE DAY OR WHO MAY HEAR MY STORY THROUGH THE WHISPER OF AN ECHO.

I'VE BEEN BLESSED BY GOD, TOUCHED BY HIM, ... SCARRED & MANGLED BY HIM, ... BUT i STILL AM HAPPY TO HAVE EVEN HALF A SMILE ... A LAUGH AND A SPIRIT ... THAT COULD MOVE AS MANY AS A MILLION SOULS TOWARD SAVING GRACE. I HOPE BEYOND HOPE THAT YOU WILL STAND WITH ME ON THAT DAY WHEN MY TURN COMES TO SHARE.

I HOPE THAT YOU WILL CONTINUE TO STAY STALWARTLY PLANTED AT MY SIDE, AS I MOVE ALONG FORWARD, IN THE DIRECTION OF MY DREAMS. THAT IS TO SAY: MY RECOVERY, SOBRIETY, CONTRIBUTION, COMMITMENT, LOVE, SHARING & CHANGE!!

WILL YOU CARRY ME ALONG THE EBBING TIDE OF MY DAILY STRUGGLES AND LEAVE THE SOLITARY FOOTPRINTS OF YOUR SPIRIT ALONG MY SEA-SHORED STORY LINE? WHO SAYS THAT FRIENDS & BRETHREN CANNOT EMBODY THE REVEREND STRENGTH & ALMIGHTY SPIRIT OF THE ULTIMATELY SYMPATHETIC SOUL: A HIGHER POWER?

WILL YOU JOIN ME ON MY JOURNEY? WILL YOU CARRY ME WHEN I AM TOO WEAK TO STAND AND TO WALK ALONE? I ASK HUMBLY, FRIEND: WILL YOU BE MY HIGHER POWER?

I originally concluded the ten-page single-spaced hand-written letter on the ninth page with the text you see that is typed in initial capitals, normally; but feeling the need to share one small additional token of my movement forward and of my positive thinking, I continued the letter onto the back of the final page, with a full-page sermon of sorts, printed in "ALL CAPS," for emphasis & effect. I feel that the final closing of this letter is fitting and sincere: an honest, humble confession to and request of this amazing man, mentor & friend of mine to "CARRY ME WHEN I AM TOO WEAK TO STAND...," to be my Higher Power!!

It's an awkward, difficult request to ask of someone, but Steven knows me to be someone who is often emboldened by chagrin & camaraderie, by enthusiasm & emotion, solemn sanctity & sensitivity to so-called "PC" talk or contrived to condemn the common, courteous, conventional parlance of the status quo with my own matter-of-fact twirling of the tongue ( ... in cheek! ).

I set out with this final page to write sincerely of the profound & lasting impact Steven Tierney has had on my life and in appreciation of our dear friendship. I did not intend to exaggerate; although, this final passage might come across as a little aloof, as a hopeless haranguing of what is otherwise the simple generosity of spirit that this my good man, mentor & friend constantly offers to me.

I hope that it doesn't come across as trite and condescending, but rather as uplifting and inspiring. I pray that it will (re)ignite in Steven a deep-seeded, serious desire to (re)connect with me: the "poor, unfortunate soul" that has found perhaps at last some sured, sound, stable footing along the treacherous, tumultuous path toward Recovery. I beg of my dear friend & mentor to exhibit a custodial degree of compassion and to serve as my compass point, guiding me in all directions due forward and keeping me on the oh so infamous "straight & narrow," as I've said before.

It is with great respect & admiration for this friend of mine and with equal shame as I might have pride in my struggle back and forth, toward and away from (and toward again!) sobriety, that I present the text of this, my recent letter to Steven Tierney, Ed.D, CAS: a man who has proved time and time again to be all things seemingly (or assuredly!) heroic!

Thank you for reading all of this lengthy, exhaustive text (whoever you unfathomable, phantom few followers may be!), and thank you for sharing with me your thoughts & comments on the situations & experiences discussed herein. I envy & beg for the interactions & feedback of my followers; however feeble, however few! R.S.V.P. : Respond, if it pleases you! Comment, if it comes naturally!

Feed back to me the enthusiasm & energy & emotion with which I have presented now my discourse & diatribe! Share at once both your singularly superficial, scathingly sarcastic & sardonic or cynical criticisms, and feed back to me likewise your very truthful, touching, tender two cents on these matters, so that I might at once both habitualize the cycle of critique & comment, and begin to learn to hone the implacably high standards of my exposé technique.

Thank you for feeding back to me a few kind words for once! Until next time... May you find peace & serenity of spirit in the sobering sanctity of our souls' solemn, so-longed-for salvation! May you be compelled to comment, too! Thank you! Salut. Au revoir. À tout à l'heure... And NAMASTE!

Again, most sincerely...

Matt(e)o | QHereKidSF
Matthew D. Blanchard
San Francisco, CA 94109-7821
@QHereKidSF

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[MDB2009.05.31@01:27PST]

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IF ONE ADVANCES CONFIDENTLY IN THE DIRECTION
OF HIS DREAMS, AND ENDEAVORS TO LIVE THE LIFE
HE HAS IMAGINED, HE WILL MEET WITH A SUCCESS
UNEXPECTED IN COMMON HOURS.
— Henry David Thoreau (1817-1862)

MY RELIGION CONSISTS OF A HUMBLE ADMIRATION
OF THE ILLIMITABLE SUPERIOR SPIRIT WHO REVEALS
HIMSELF IN THE SLIGHT DETAILS WE ARE ABLE TO
PERCEIVE WITH OUR FRAIL AND FEEBLE MIND.
— Albert Einstein (1879-1955)

IF YOU CAN'T HAVE FAITH IN WHAT IS HELD UP
TO YOU FOR FAITH, YOU MUST FIND THINGS TO
BELIEVE IN YOURSELF, FOR A LIFE WITHOUT FAITH
IN SOMETHING IS TOO NARROW A SPACE TO LIVE.
— George E. Woodberry

EVERYBODY LIKES TO GO THEIR OWN WAY —
TO CHOOSE THEIR OWN TIME
AND MANNER OF DEVOTION.
— Jane Austen (1775-1817), Mansfield Park

HOLD FAITHFULNESS & SINCERITY
AS FIRST PRINCIPLES.
— Confucius (551B.C.-479B.C.), The Confucian Analects

FAITH IS, AT ONE AND THE SAME TIME,
ABSOLUTELY NECESSARY AND
ALTOGETHER IMPOSSIBLE.
— Stanislaw Lem (1921-2006)

DESIRE, ASK, BELIEVE, RECEIVE...
— Stella Terrill Mann

AIDS: A PERVASIVE PANDEMIC THAT BLEEDS THRU
THE LINES OF COLOR, CREED & CAPITULATES TO
NO ONE BUT THE POSITIVELY AWARE AND
THE PREVENTION-MINDED SURVIVORS.
— Matthew Blanchard (b.1979, HIV+ '02 / AIDS+ '04/'07)

Demetri @ Folsom Street Events® : A Respected, Inspiring Colleague

Throughout the year 2006, I had the distinct honor & priviledge to work for an incredible man at an awesome organization that was only weakened by the trifling and petty control games of its fetish-friendly all-volunteer Steering Committee or Board of Directors. Demetri Moshoyannis was the Executive Director of FOLSOM STREET EVENTS®, who hired me on as Administrative Coordinator charged with office, accounts & project management; exhibitor/vendor relations & rental sales; events planning; assisting with marketing & sponsorship campaigns; desktop publishing and constant collaboration on ideas about how we'd see the organization grow.


It was Demetri's first year as Executive Director, hired only three or four months before me, and in one year, we together accomplished the impossible. We turned the organization around, increased sponsorship dollars by 92%, instituted a direct marketing campaign, improved media relations and community outreach, achieved a 115% Exhibitor rental sell out, produced four premier events, and served the Board of Directors to the very best of our abilities. The only problem for me was that my style was off; it was different, naive and trite, contemptuous in many ways, only because I wasn't being listened to by any one of my colleagues except for my admirable, open-minded boss: Demetri.

I was full of ideas all the time, and I was desperate to be heard, constantly chiming in on Planning Committee conversations and very vocally pushing my ideas on the Board. I was only hoping that they would find value in my enthusiasm, creativity, ingenuity, intelligence; but instead, they all (each in their own right) responded very caustically to my brash misgivings, which I only intended as gestures of solidarity and support. As the year progressed, the relationships (or semblance there of) I had developed with the Board members (especially the Board President and the Exhibitors Division Chairwoman, who directly controlled the reception of the majority of all of my work on the job) progressively began to deteriorate and erupt in frustration. The only ally I had was my boss, Demetri.

Demetri was always there to listen to the bantering and blabbering, to the constant flux of ideas and suggestions and concepts and proposals flowing from my mind. He knew, as well as I did, that it wasn't very realistic to expect the Board to go along with any of my ideas, because as I say later, I was a "mere underling," but he listened to & considered each of my thoughts, filing them in the back of his mind as our own private stash of possibilities..."for the Future!," we would say. Little did I know that the Future would be short at hand and obstructed by my termination by the emboldened, bitter, brutally angry Board President, who just did not like me.


I'll set the record straight, before I continue: I was no perfect employee. Demetri gave me very many liberties with him in our private, professional relationship; liberties that the Board Director found offensive and improper. I got my job done always, but to my own slow canter. What my naivety prevented me from realizing was that a group of fetish-friendly BDSM community leaders, professionals, like the FOLSOM STREET EVENTS® Board of Directors, would much rather prefer a master-slave relationship with their "underlings," expecting due diligence and immediate response to all commands. Demetri was a fetish freak, a founder of the San Francisco and Los Angeles chapters of the "Men of Discipline," a BDSM fetishistic military-style fraternity of platonic and sometimes sexual partners, but Demetri had a soft side for me where I constantly found refuge.

I'll forever remember the day my employment was terminated. It was a Friday, after a full week of steady accomplishments. Just that day was the deadline for Beneficiaries to submit their applications: an important day; and oddly, the Board President shows up midday and installs himself at the head of the conference table. Demetri then got very quiet; in fact, if I remember correctly, he had pretty much been quiet all that day, not engaging in much of any conversation with me. Then at one point, around 3pm, Demetri picked up a folder from his desk and solemnly walked over to sit down next to the Board President at the conference table. There was silence, long empty silence. I wondered what was going on.

Then Demetri quietly, humbly muttered, "Matt, would you come here please and have a seat." I was confused. I didn't know what was going on and definitely had that look on my face when I sat down next to the Board President, opposite my boss, the Executive Director. That's when I saw Demetri's face and heard him struggling with his breath, obviously uncomfortable in his seat. His eyes showed such anxiety. He received a cold, commanding stare from his boss, the Board President to urge him to say what needed to be said, but Demetri really was struggling to say it: "Matt, we've decided to let you go."


That's basically all he said for the rest of the berating. I say "berating" because that's exactly what it was. The Board President began to speak vehemently, brutally slicing his words at me in his stuffy British accent, proceeding to condemn me for all of my myriad of inconceivable inadequacies. His voice got loud. He was infuriated. When I tried to speak up and defend myself, painfully attempting to salvage some self-respect and any chance at a job I had left, he yelled me down, hollering "THERE'S NO DEBATING THIS! WE DON'T WANT YOU HERE! THAT'S THAT! You have no choice but to sign your severance package, turn in your keys and leave." (I paraphrase: poetic license!)

This entire time I was pleading with Demetri silently, with my tearful eyes and dropped jaw, to speak up and stop this attack. I was certain, by view of the harrowing, desperately uncomfortable look on his face, that Demetri did not want to be doing this. I figure he was forced to, threatened with being fired himself if he didn't fire me or at least go along with the Board President firing me. I swear, I saw tears in his eyes. He looked like a meek little puppy, condemned to obey his master. I accepted the decision with great disappointment, shivering in tears of anxiety, gathered my things and walked out, but not without putting out my hand to Demetri for a shake, a good-bye. That's when Demetri grabbed my hand and pulled me in to a deep embrace, a strong, impassioned bear hug. I could feel his sweat, hear his heart thumping rapidly. I could also hear him screaming silently inside his own head, "I'M SO SORRY! I DIDN'T WANT THIS! THIS ISN'T RIGHT! I HAD NO CHOICE!" (I paraphrase: poetic license! hehehe.)

At that moment, I knew that something wonderful was coming to an end. Despite all the trauma and turmoil of working for a Board of Directors that held me in the least esteem, Demetri really cared. He believed in me. I had somehow so stupidly succeeded in taking advantage of the liberties he'd give me, and I somehow, some time, over-stepped some invisible, undetermined boundaries. I had crossed a line. Demetri would have been willing to let me step right back to the right side and start over afresh, but the Board President would not let me move an inch. He had caught me where he wanted me, right where I was vulnerable and helpless and had no choice, no chance to survive.

I knew that I was losing a really great thing: a really great boss!! And to demonstrate the great respect and admiration I had and still have for Demetri Moshoyannis as a professional, I decided to write him a recommendation for his LinkedIn® Profile, hoping that he'd accept it and proudly display it on his profile. Words spoken from the heart. I preface the recommendation text with an email further describing my feelings for Demetri, speaking directly to him, instead of about him. I hope he appreciates and is truly touched by what I have to say. Both the email and the recommendation I just submitted to Demetri today via LinkedIn® are cited below. Let me know what you think! I'd like to know that someone finds my words moving and meaningful. Please.

LINKEDIN® EMAIL TO DEMETRI MOSHOYANNIS

Dear Demetri,

I've written this recommendation of your work to share with other LinkedIn® users.

You were a great boss, Demetri! The best I'll probably ever have. While I regret the occasional squabbles between you and me over mere trifles, I will forever be grateful for the many times when you actually listened to my ideas and encouraged me to express myself, when others were so bitterly opposed to me speaking my mind.

It makes me sad that I was stupid enough to let the opportunity to contribute my gems of creative thought slip from beneath me and not to see maybe even just one of my ideas embraced and implemented, by making mistake after adolescent, maniacal mistake.

I only wish our tenure together could have lasted even just one fair season longer, just to see how well we could have fused our minds together, have had me gain some ground with our colleagues, be respected and affect really positive change in the organization. Thank you for treating me like a human being when others would not.

I'm sorry for my mistakes. I'll always cherish the experience of working with you. Thank you for trying so hard to keep believing in me, even when I was at my worst. Thank you for your compassion.

And with that said, I leave you to read and review the recommendation below that I wrote for you. It's from the heart, maybe too much so! If you need me to toughen it up and streamline it a little with a revision, I will. I hope though that you will at least appreciate and return the gesture.

Good luck with the 2009 Fair Season! Don't get too burnt out! FSE needs you at your prime. What would they do without you?? I don't know. God Bless! Namaste. Peace Out.

Let me know what you think of the recommendation. I hope you'll post it to your profile. I feel honored to contribute to your professional profile on LinkedIn®. Just a gesture, fully and rightfully deserved. Tootles! Read on...

Most Sincerely,
Matt(e)o | QHereKidSF
Matthew Blanchard

DETAILS OF THE RECOMMENDATION

Demetri was a superb, insightful, creative, compassionate boss, a real pleasure to work for during my time as his assistant in 2006. He was respectfully lenient and understanding, without ever letting me forget my responsibilities, and while still demanding intelligent, inspired collaboration, feedback and ideas of me: a lowly underling.

One thing I never could doubt when working with Demetri was that he knew his stuff. He is a pro! A truly inspiring leader and a dutiful servant to the organization, fighting constantly to improve the standards and practices upon which FOLSOM STREET EVENTS® stands.

With his continuing tenure at the helm of the organization, I am only certain that it will continue to grow & prosper. FSE has blossomed and beefed up under his leadership already! I'm anxious to see how far he can take the juggernaut that is "Fetish Freedomland": Folsom Street Fair®!!

I constantly croon in nostalgia over the lost opportunity to continue to see FSE rise to megalithic glory with Demetri at the reigns and me, his fagged-out funambulist freak show front desk man by his side. He respected and nurtured me when no one else would. For that I am eternally grateful!

I will always fondly remember my experience working with this "Man of Discipline," and I will equally regret ever letting him down. Thanks, Demetri! And I'm sorry...