ISRAEL&I : Preserving Progress

Evidence of an enduring friendship. Remarks made to console and cajole into contemplation the otherwise tamed vacancies of intellect that bridal us with ignorance and loathing prejudices. This essay is not meant to proselytize about the potency of or the pandemonium in the Israeli State, but rather, this blog entry is meant to demonstrate the intense intimacy of my relationship with my next door neighbor and In-Home Supportive Services provider: my friend, Israel R. Toro.

The following is text of a letter I recently wrote to Israel, which he will not have yet read by the time this post is published. Maybe he'll get a hint that a letter's waiting for him, when he sees a notification of this blog entry post on my Facebook Profile. This would mean that he has access to the text of the letter without having the illustrated pages in his hands first, but that's okay.  It'll still be something special for him to receive the hand-written four page letter in person when he returns from vacation in about a week.  At least, that's my hope!

Dear Israel,
Today, you left on a camping trip with your boyfriend to Washington State, where there's quick sand and where you're going to be soaked with rain. I'm home alone, listening to the silence through my walls, re-reading the hand-written note you posted to my oven fan and the text messages you sent me earlier in the day. I can't help but play back the conversation we had sitting at my kitchen table, recalling your anxiety at the thought that I possibly will no longer be your neighbor.

Frankly, I regret having been so caught up in my own excitement at the prospect of transitioning finally into independence and (hopefully!) better circumstances, that I didn't have forethought enough to anticipate your reaction or to consider your feelings. And, for that I am deeply sorry. On the other hand, I feel blessed by your reaction. Why? How? You might ask... It may seem insensitive of me to find satisfaction in your frustration and worry, but let me explain...

Through the harrowing happenstance of disease, depression disfigurement, delusions, devastation, death -- but, then through survival, salvation, sanity, sobriety, sympathy, serendipity, solace, surety, safety, serenity and yes, even through some selfish satisfaction for it all! -- I have come to believe that only one thing can sustain me in life, onward from my fight with death, and that is... FRIENDSHIP!!


Friendship is essential to my life, and since I call you proudly and gratefully a friend -- you are absolutely essential to my life. Your unexpected reaction -- unexpected to me, at least -- to some unexpected news essentially demonstrated the deep, genuine sincerity of our relationship, making real and tangible to me the enormous significance and value you bring to my life.


Essentially, by reacting with such shock, fear, anxiety and very real sadness at the prospect of losing your proximity to me, you proved to me how essential -- how necessary -- you are to my life, to my survival, and to my happiness. Don't you see now why and how I could/did find some satisfaction in your suffering?


Your pain made me happy for a brief moment, but as soon as I realized that what I was feeling could very well be wrong (or at least totally inappropriate and shameful), I shifted my perspective and my focus onto you. My focus right now is not on this satisfaction of mine that I've defined here, but it's on abetting your worry, healing your anxiety and pain by reassuring yu that I will do whatever I can that is humanly possible to preserve the status, shape, sincerity, intimacy, growth and progress of our friendship, if I am no longer to be your neighbor.

You make me happy, Israel!! You make me laugh. You make me worry. You make me proud. You make me feel lucky, special, unique, grateful...as friends should do!! I guess really that's exactly just what I want to say, and I want to thank you for saying yes, when I asked you to be my IHSS worker.  Thank you for hanging out with me when times were low. Thanks for supporting my sobriety, my health, my sanity.  Thank you for taking suck great care of me and Tanner!! 

You deserve so much gratitude in return for all the generous gifts, sympathy and friendship that you have bestowed upon me in the past seven years as my neighbor, and especially for the sacrifices that you have recently made (and that I hope you will continue to make) as my in-home care provider. 


The mutual reciprocity of our relationship (personal/professional, or otherwise!) is what gives us such trust, intimacy, potency, pride and strength when we're together; and for that, I hope never to lose you -- or our friendship. I WILL FIGHT TO THE ENDS OF THE EARTH FOR YOU!! Because, in fighting to preserve our relationship, I fight also to keep my life on track, heading in the "right" direction.


NO! I don't mean to insinuate that I'm going to turn Republican on you , but I do in a way mean to say "CONSERVATIVE" -- in such a way that I'd like to conserve/preserve all the greatness, the grandeur, the bliss that has found its way into my life recently; thanks to you. BUT, I'M A TRUE PROGRESSIVE! I believe in PROGRESS. 


As my priest would say: "We are all imperfect people reaching, aiming for perfection." I personally do not know if I will ever reach perfection before I die, or if it will instead come posthumously once I enter into the gardens of ELYSIUM, but I know that in the meantime, I will only act in God's graces, and I will only surround myself with people like you. People who are not "perfect" -- per se, but whose indomitable strength of spirit only supports, encourages, buttresses (and does not contend with contemptuously) my journey toward perfection. Those who join the journey with me, only to follow their own path in the same general direction. 


That is why you are in my life. Because, in your support and through our friendship, we both come all that much clsoer to enlightenment, salvation, redemption and perfection. You sustain and nurture, cultivate and catalyze my shaping of self. And I can only dream of doing the same for you. In brotherhood, Israel, our love for one another endures... Know that I cherish you, and that there will always be a place for you in my life. Forever. THANKS!!


With Love,
Matthew

I wanted to post this text prior to delivering the letter to Israel himself, because the simple act of writing these words has inspired in me a sense of urgency in recognizing and recording the significance of this very important relationship in my life. 

What's true is that I enjoy writing (and illustrating) letters by hand to the people most important in my life; in small part, because I figure that if one day I reach infamy or celebrity or renown, then such hand-written souvenirs could be cherished as truly valuable objects. But, my immediate aim in not to reach renown. I'm not presumptuous, or even pompous enough to think that celebrity is a possibility for me in any way, so I'll settle for touching the hearts of those few and far between important people in my life who merit such gifts of graphic gab scribbled onto loose leaf paper. That's what I hope to do with this letter: touch Israel's heart! 

Maybe he'll read my blog post via Facebook, and either comment there or access my blog's true URL: http://qherekidsf.blogspot.com, to leave a comment there. We'll see!  Maybe, he'll just read the letter on loose leaf and give me one ginormous grateful, gentlemanly bear hug!! GRRRRRR. CHUB!! :) Peace Out, All! And Peace, especially to Israel! May he have a safe voyage home, and may our friendship survive the tempests and turmoil of time!!  Truth be told, he's tamed me. My gratitude is immeasurable. THANKS, IZ!!

Respectfully Submitted,
Matthew D. Blanchard
Matt(e)o | QHereKidSF
San Francisco, CA USA
[2010.05.29@18:40PST]

SINS INVALID : A.I.R. Program

SINS INVALID: AN UNCLAIMED SHAMED TO BEAUTY IN THE FACE OF DISABILITY, is "a performance project that incubates and celebrates artists with disabilities, centralizing artists of color and queer and gender-variant artists as members of communities who have been historically marginalized. conceived and lead by disable people of color, [they] develop and present cutting-edge work where normative paradigms of 'normal' and 'sexy' are challenged, offering instead a vision of beauty and sexuality inclusive of all individuals and communities."

SINS INVALID "present multidisciplinary performances (video, poetry, spoken word, music, drama, and dance) by people with disabilities for broad audiences in the San Francisco Bay Area and elsewhere; organize multidisciplinary performance workshops for community members with and without disabilities; and offer political education workshops for community-based and educational organizations that share [their] commitment to social justice principles as a means of integrating analysis and action around disability, race, gender and sexuality."


2010 marks the inaugural year of the SINS INVALID Artists in Residence (A.I.R.) Project, a performance development and incubation project through which new, up and coming LGBTQQI disabled artists of diverse color and/or creed are invited to come together to collaborate, mentor, workshop and produce solo or ensemble performance pieces to be premiered as headlining entertainment at a showcase performance event this coming December.

For the last two weeks, I have been anxiously awaiting response back from the SINS INVALID A.I.R Project Coordinator, Nomy Lamm on her decision to accept me as an participating A.I.R. performer. Even though the application process was quite comfortable and relaxed, I had to turn it into a grueling, anxiety-filled affair, imbuing the whole ordeal with an overbearing sense of urgency and enthusiasm.  With fingers wound round each other in superstitious anticipation, I prayed that my exhaustive energy would impress the judges, and so it did!

Today, Wednesday, May 12, 2010 at around 11:47AM PST, I received an email from Ms. Nomy Lamm, congratulating me on my selection and welcoming me into the program. Now, finally, with great relief and still even greater excitement, I'm able to post my application and a brief synopsis of my interview for the position without preempting any alternate outcome.  I post the following, as I like to say, for the sake of posterity and perpetuity, to be made accessible to the world wide blogosphere through the cyberwaves of my communiques.

SINS INVALID ARTIST IN RESIDENCE APPLICATION
DO YOU IDENTIFY AS LGBTQ OR GENDER VARIANT?
     Yes, and proudly so.
     Though I spent the majority of my childhood and adolescence closeted in immense shame of my "deviant" sexuality, I knew from an early age that I was in fact a homosexual. It took me until my Junior Year Abroad in 1999-2000, while I was studying Performance ARts in paris, France, to "come out" as gay, to find romance and in that same year to seroconvert.
     coming back to Williamsburg, Virginia, where I had lived and studied as an undergraduate for five years, was incredulously difficult -- torturous even, for the simple reason that I was bitterly rejected by my peers because of my abrupt, albeit completely sequitur, shift in sexual orientation.
     I was a handsome young man, back then. I broke the hearts of many young women, who had fallen amorous of me, as well as those of many young men, you desired me sexually, but for whom I held no dutiful, profound attraction.
     Now, I realize, through the spite of circumstance, that I've lost most of my concrete, tangible, physical beauty (so integral to successful gay male relationships, or so it sometimes seems).
     Most of those young gay men, who once rejected me because I ostensibly rejected them, would still reject me today, even though I'm a proud, resilient gay man living a dream. Or maybe, during the practice of performance so integral to the Sins Invalid syllabus of study, I will (re)discover my beauty and either again ostensibly or forevermore actually find that I can and do and will attract love, admiration, desire, lust, sex, romance, etc. We will see; won't we?

WHAT IS YOUR ETHNIC BACKGROUND AND/OR RACIAL IDENTITY?
     I'm a "white trash" mutt of a man, bred of third-generation Eastern European and French-Canadian immigrants.
     I usually abstain from answering such questions, because I find that more often than not polls and surveys, such as this year's foreboding, omni-force of social study: The 2010 Census, insinuates prejudice against "Caucasians."
     NO! I'm NOT a Neo-Nazi -- God Forbid!! I do, however, always answer "other" in these instances. Any racial or ethnic minority is welcomed to object or claim that I am merely projecting my own internalized racism through reversed racism inferred. Yet, I lay steadfast and stubborn claim to the notion that "not all Whites live in an Ivory Tower."
     So here, in this instance, I call myself "White Trash." Because, without any degree of self-loathing, I can easily recognize from where I was born and to where my race, ethnicity, gender, sexual orientation, disability and disease(s) have lead me: not up the social ladder, be even further down from where I started -- to San Francisco's Skid Row.

TELL US ABOUT YOUR ART: WHAT DO YOU DO? WHY IS IT IMPORTANT TO YOU?
     I was once , so long ago, an elite and very fortunate student practitioner of a refined artistic performance craft. My study of the theatre and performance arts earned me a place in the pantheon of student artists at my alma mater: The College of William & Mary, '02.
     During my undergraduate studies and immediately following the emotionally debilitating shock of my HIV diagnosis in my senior year, I was honored with the privilege of studying abroad on full scholarship in Europe.
     I studied extensively the art of Mime Decroux at L'Atelier de Belleville and at l'École Jacques LeCoq, Shakespeare and Chinese Opera with l'Association de Recherche des Traditions de l'Acteur (ARTA) under the direction and tutelage of company members of the Théâtre du Soleil and acclaimed contemporary Taiwanese opera and dance master, Wu Xing Guo. I studied with and was directed in the lead role of Les Mamelles de Tirésias by a graduate of the Tisch School for the Arts Experimental Performance Workshop and French national. I traveled to the South of France to study and perform with a bilingual Franco-American contemporary performance company at the Festival d'Avignon: Europe's most sumptuous, most popular, and most time-honored celebration of the theatre, dance and performance arts.
     I also was honored with the privilege of studying on scholarship the traditional and contemporary traditions of theatre in Florence, Italy, including the pinnacled canon of commedia dell'arte, as well as the theories and practice of acclaimed Italian theatre masters, Fo & Strehler.
     The combined force of my experience(s) studying on foreign soil, directly in the muck of mayhem and mischief of mainland European student life, greatly influenced the birth on my passion(s) for the modern & contemporary cinemas of France and Italy.
     I found that in preparing for my directorial debuts in the theatre, upon my return to The College of William & Mary stateside, much of what I had studied of Le Film Noir, Neorealism and the cinema of Jean-Jacques Jeunet integrally influenced my artistic choices. Truly, my directorial debuts were infused with a synthesis of all of my theatrical and cinematographic studies, transforming into a culmination of work of immense impact, value and valor.
     As a French Literature and Theatre Arts major at The College of William & Mary, I honed my artistic skill and craft with the direction, scenic and costume design of two prominent works of Eugène Ionesco and of the Theatre of the Absurd: The Lesson, and The Chairs.
     After undergraduate and after some time in Italy, I came to San Francisco, where I returned to my humble, modest roots as destitute and delusional "White Trash," living in the Tenderloin, under the care of numerous HIV/AIDS service organizations.
     Through my ties to Larkin Street Youth Services, I met Peter Carpou (former member of the Board of Directors of the Intersection for the Arts), who in turn facilitated my acceptance on full scholarship into the 2004 Hybrid Project performance workshop series. that was my last theatrical experience to date, as shortly thereafter, my multiple disabilities truly debilitated me.
     For the years following that major milestone performance opportunity for me, my life has been marred by physical, mental, emotional and behavioral deterioration, destruction and disease. Thus, i have been on somewhat of a forced sabbatical, and in a state of what seems to be terminal separation and disjuncture with my art.
     Only in the last year have I been blessed with the great fortune of finding the necessary guidance to be led through a long and arduous rehabilitation and recovery process; which, in turn, I would like to see culminate this time in my participation as a Sins Invalid Artist In Residence.

WHAT IS YOUR DISABILITY, AND/OR YOUR RELATIONSHIP TO THE DISABILITY COMMUNITY?
     I'll approach this question systematically and succinctly, to defer all elaborate provocations to my other answers.
     I have lived through debilitating, disabling HIV/AIDS, a nine month schizo-delusional messianic psychosis induced by use of crystal meth, as well as substance abuse and HIV/AIDS-related PCP pneumonia and a poly-microbial necrotizing bacterial infection of my face, which subsequently led to the state in which I find myself now: disgruntled, disfigured, dismantled and deformed -- devoid of all natural, tangible beauty -- left only to fight furiously and ferociously through my own "faggotry" and foggy memories to find my beauty again.
     My relationship to the disability community has thus far been tangential and only dictated by the circumstance(s) of my hospitalization(s). I have for a long while (since my injury & illness, and after witnessing the atrocious destruction of my face, my nose, my jaw, my mouth, my lips, and my smile) refused to associate with the "disfigured" community. I have feared reprisal by those plenty proud people who have suffered trauma after trauma far worse than mine, and who have been torn to pieces physically.
     I can and do wear a mast to cover my reconstructed contortion of a face, while many other victims of facial or body trauma cannot (or simply will not!) wear masks or costumes to hide their "variances." Shocking! -- the contrivances, consequences and coincidence of how the study and wearing of a myriad of masks and costumes has profoundly defined my artistic and personal life (or plagued it!), all along.
     But, i have begun to reach out, more recently. I was introduced to Sins Invalid and the AIR Program by a burn survivor and new found friend of mine: James Anthony Bosch. It is with his support and encouragement that I am taking a gargantuan leap forward into the (hopefully, as he says they'll be) welcoming arms of the disabled and disfigured communities.
     I want to use my participation in the Sins Invalid AIR Program to reconcile my own immense tragedies and turmoil with the tremendous amount of talent and blessing with which I have been gifted throughout my life, even still now.

WHY DO YOU WANT TO BE AN ARTIST IN RESIDENCE? WHAT DO YOU HAVE TO BRING TO THE PROJECT? WHAT DO YOU HOPE TO GET FROM THE EXPERIENCE?
     Upon viewing the Sins Invalid website, with accompanying photo and video documentation of past performances by the company, I have been mesmerized and dually inspired by the profoundly beautiful artistry the organization evokes in its work: "AN UNSHAMED CLAIM TO BEAUTY IN THE FACE OF INVISIBILITY!!" Beauty within! My creative energy has been critically and conspicuously resuscitated by the images and sounds, pictures and poetry that I have witnessed by Sins Invalid, and I most deeply desire to be part of this phenomenon, this movement, this corpus of performance work, and in the company of this genuine and genius mastery of craft.
      More importantly however, I crave the opportunity to use my participation in the Sins Invalid Artists In Residence Program as a vehicle and/or mechanism for reconciling myself with my myriad of disabilities and disfigurement(s).
     I have known for years that the story of my life and my struggles could ans would easily lent itself to the creative process of artistic performance and storytelling on stage. With a full year (or more!) of committed rehabilitation and recovery under my tightened belt, I feel entirely ready now to be led on the journey toward discovering the "evocative enunciation of my sacred self."
     What I have to bring to the project are the highest standards of professionalism and the study, practice and mastery of diverse performance traditions; as well as intellect and creativity of stellar proportions; courage in face of a face deface and disfigured; a desire to grow and change and further develop my craft, my psyche, my spirituality, my sobriety, my sanity and my health. I also will bring ambition, determination, enthusiasm, and an ostensibly blank slate upon which might be sketched or etched or sculpted the next masterful Thinker.

WHAT IS YOUR ARTIST DREAM? DESCRIBE THE BOOK, PLAY, SONG, PERFORMANCE OR PROJECT YOU'D LOVE TO CREATE...

1. SEMI-AUTOBIOGRAPHICAL EXPERIMENTAL PERFORMANCE PIECE : that would prove an affront to aesthetic prejudices and judgments of the status quo, by confounding an audience through the "evocative enunciation of my sacred self." I'd like to use this performance project, as I've said previously, to reconcile with my demons and to demonstrate that true beauty transcends the physical. I can't say much more on the subject, because the idea is still percolating in my mind. But, I know that the Sins Invalid AIR Program would be a pivotal, integral platform for creating such a piece. 
2. CRYSTALINE: NYMPHO, NARCOTIC FEROCIOUS FIEND OF A FREAK SHOW (a.k.a., "TWEAKER MONSTER") : Incorporating much of my LeCoq and mime training along with situational real-world improvisation technique and the modern Japanese Butoh tradition, I dream of creating an androgynous drag persona that can be "performed" interactively in popular night clubs and gay sex dens; one which is characterized by absurd nymphomania, absence of human touch boundaries, and ultra-concentrated sexual and emotional perversion. I envision that the persona might live amongst the crowds in these locales to breakdown walls and stereotypes and above all to frighten/shock/disgust subjects into realizing that crystal meth is a destructive, disruptive, deranged, debilitating, disfiguring, demonizing disease of an addiction: a monstrosity!! This persona might be something I'd be compelled to workshop as a participant in the AIR Program, in addition to or instead of a semi-autobiographical piece. Perhaps, the two projects could be synthesized and meshed together into one unified performance motif. If not, then I'll just incubate this particular idea until further opportunities for its development present themselves.
3. A NATIONAL EXPERIMENTAL QUEER PERFORMANCE CONSERVATORY : I aspire to obtain a PhD in Performance Studies either from Berkeley, Brown, NYU, Northwestern or UCLA, with an overarching focus on variant forms of contemporary experimental queer performance and with an emphasis on the aesthetic, historical and theoretical analysis of the art of Drag Performance around the globe. The Conservatory, which I hope to found once I earn a reputation as one of the nation's leading academic experts and performance masters of these variant genres of theatre, would offer BA/BFA and MA/MFA degrees similar to those which were award by the Experimental Performance Institute (EPI) of New College of California at San Francisco, when it was still extant. Tracts of study would include: a.) Social Activism & Agitprop in Performance, b.) Gender, Sexuality & the Stage; as well as specializations in c.) The Performance of Disease, Disability & Stigma; and of course, d.) DRAG!! I want the Conservatory to be breeding ground for drag ingénues and masters of the craft, where they might be able and invited to (re)define/refine their technique and practice ... where the common colloquial drag performer can come to learn and apply time-tested performance traditions and methodologies to the creation of multiple personae and in multiple performance styles. The Conservatory would be a platform upon which young and old drag performers, alike, could gain the skills and creative tools necessary to create art that transcends the kitsch and camp (while still respecting the kitsch and camp roots of the craft), thus entering or accessing the noblest pantheon of performance arts.
4. THE HARROWING, HILARIOUS HISTORY, AESTHETICS, ANTICS & HOW-TO'S OF DRAG PERFORMANCE : an interactive, illustrated academic/instructional book on the complete history, globally variant aesthetic traditions, diversity of performance styles, subject-matter, song-choice, practice and culture of DRAG Performance. This book, I envision, will be somewhat of an interactive, instructional anthology of drag performance studies, written entirely in partnership with acclaimed drag artists and authors. This book would be kitsch and classy, camp and contemplative, challenging to the nth degree, but coy and cute, sexy and sultry: an astutely academic, scholarly work disguised as a coffee table trinket or toy.
5. TRANSLATION, DIRECTION & DESIGN OF AN EXPERIMENT QUEER or GENDER VARIANT PRODUCTION OF LES MAMELLES DE TIRÉSIAS : The Tits of Teresias!! I think I want to save this for graduate school!! But, who knows? It could be my ticket into graduate school....

To my delight and equal opportunity of surprise (shock, even!), this rather sterling example of my put-offish verbosity and pedantry shined in the eyes of the judging panel for the Sins Invalid AIR Program, enough so that they were compelled to schedule me for an interview.  I was overwhelmed with anticipation, when I found out that I had made it to the second round of the selection process. I counted the days, the hours, the minutes until the moment I say "nomylamm" pop-up on my SKYPE® Contact List, and shortly thereafter received her incoming video call.

In my opinion, however harsh and self-critical I may be, the interview seemed a bit disjointed and convoluted on my part, as it was happening. But I found some comfortable in the fact that Nomy kept asking me to repeat word-for-word what exactly I had previously said, so that she could write it down.  At first, I thought this quite awkward and unconventional of her, but then it became clear to me that she was so intent on recording my exact words, because they must have been well enough construed (and my statements well enough constructed) to have an impact and to impress her. 

So, for me, in my impression, this was a good sign. Apparently so... But, I'll have to ask her about that in person.  Maybe, she'll shoot my ego down back to ground zero, admitting that she was only following procedure, but until she diminishes my feeling of accomplishment (however gently she may coax me down from aloft!), I will stick with my gut feelings.

See, I didn't have any previous works to exhibit to the Sins Invalid AIR Program judges. There exists no real, tangible record of any of my past performances. Trust me! I went to great lengths to search out photos and videos or even audio recordings of my past performances, but to no avail. I kept coming up short, at every turn. All the judges could go off of was my application and the blog to which I am posting said application at this moment. And of course, my blog has video and audio embedded into it: all original "productions" by me, of me, about me, featuring me. If anything, they found some distinguishable value in what little I had to show for myself and of my work.  And for that I am grateful.

Now, as things progress forward, I just have to walk light footed, but hell bent on staying serious about my art and about playing, creating, experimenting, imagining a whole new world to come alive on the stage. I couldn't be more excited!  The group of AIR Program participants seems like a phenomenally diverse, eclectic and talented group  of artist.  I'm a bit intimidated, to tell you the truth.  Most everyone who is participating in the inaugural Sins Invalid AIR Program is a professional or semi-professional writer.  I, on the other hand, just dabble.  

And oh damn, don't I dumbly display my minimally megalo-magnificent meanderings through doodles and droolings of dastardly devious dexterity of wit? If you would call it wit, wonder if it be pitifully witty to wander wayward with unwavering wise-ass-ity to widdle away a wee few words of way wrong wisdom, leaving the long lost laboring minds of many to wander with me wondering what this wacko for there went.  EWWWWWWWWW.  ALLITERATION IS MY DEMISE! Quote me on that... And with that, I am outtie!  Cheers! Ciao! Namaste! 

Respectfully submitted,
Matt(e)o | QHereKidSF
Matthew D. Blanchard
San Francisco, CA USA
[2010.05.12@15:25PST]

ONWARD & UPWARD! Always : Part ONE

Recently, I witnessed a shining example of the true love of enduring -- albeit, long lost -- friendship, written in a most eloquent manner by a person I hold very dear to my heart. While permission to identify this person has yet to be granted, I would like to take it upon myself to breach the great Zeitgeist of absence that has separated me not only from the blogosphere for quite sometime, but also from this dear friend of mine for far longer a period than ever should have been permissible in the mind's eye.

Rest assured; my mind's eye faces forward, in face of much "trepidation" -- as I call it in my response to her eloquently evocative and poetic enunciation of regret, remorse and respite of rectitude. Or else, be it called turmoil, trauma, terror, torture, and eventual tenacity of spirit sprung up through experience and circumstance, disease and degradation, deflation of ego -- ergo, we marvel together at miracles and pontificate over pain, as a peculiar pernicious passing way to cleanse ourselves of calamity and chaos. 

Hence, I help myself to a heaping dollop of duplication, as if perchance to replicate the immense emotion(s) that teemed deep within my mind at the moment I read and responded to the unfortunate circumstances under which she wrote these words: 

MAY 7, 2010 at 4:22PM EST
Matt, like I asked before, how did we ever lose touch? Admittedly, I used to be awful at keeping up with people -- late email responses, missed phone calls, misplaced addresses, and the like. And let's be honest, people drift apart. Friends go their separate ways. it's a natural occurrence, the inertia of which I didn't fight. But I thought of you often. I wondered where you were and what you were doing. I look back at my yearbooks sometimes and fondly stare at the pages onto which you left your mark. Your artwork, the creativity you applied just to write my name. Yours were always my favorite entries. So colorful and alive. Like you. We were all so awkward back in high school. Armed with the braveness and audacity of youth, yet lost and afraid of the unknown, of our futures, of ourselves. I was especially...weird. I didn't know what the hell I was doing. Most times, I felt very alone. But having you as a friend made a difference. You made me smile and laugh. you made the really long days bearable. Then we graduated. It's 13 years later, and I regret not trying harder to stay in contact with you. Hey, it's never too late right? I've seen all of you posted photos and they're respective captions. I am so sorry for what you've been through and for the battle you are still fighting. You are so brave, Matt. Last September, I was in a coma, resulting from complications due to chemotherapy. I'm also bald now. I suppose we all have our own problems, our own sources of pain. But we are fighters, you and me. Keep fighting. I hope to hear from you, my friend.

Now, while retyping her message to me for the sake of perpetuity via the ever so accessible blogosphere and cyberwaves, I realize that I should have responded some way simpler than I initially did respond. My first reply was an abrupt, pointed plea for direct, person-to-person communication, live, over the phone. In many ways, I was so intangibly humbled, honored, privileged, « ou comme on dit en français: bouleversé », bent through and through by the bones of me, dramatically empowered, emboldened, impassioned, and empathetic...sorrowfully, shamefully sympathetic...all in one instance, that I could only find it in myself to call out to her as brashly as a boy could begin the volley and tarry of a new dialogue with an old friend, writing:

MAY 7, 2010 at 7:19PM PST
What's your phone number? I would love to talk to you. I have so many thoughts running through my head, so many things I'd like to say to you, to ask you. And, Facebook would only allow me a pitiful tool for expressing myself. You have always been in my thoughts; now you will remain in my prayers. I love you, and I miss you. Even bald, I'm sure you're just as beautiful as ever!! If you don't feel comfortable giving your phone number over email, feel free to check out the INFO Section of my Facebook profile for my phone numbers, address and emails. I hope you will reach out and contact me again, but this time more directly. Looking forward to hearing your voice. Love, your dear ol' friend... Matthew...

Three days have passed since I wrote that speedy, contrite, emotionally bland and bottom-tight message to my long lost, new found friend, and she has yet to have called me or communicate with me outright in any way, which sure as the day is long, worries me in a weird, weird way.  
I've hesitated even meandering through her Facebook profile, for fear of seeing a more recent photo of my truly beautiful boyhood best friend bald now, bare of her long, lank, straight, sleek, sultry, always beaming so black it blinded you, locks of gorgeous hair.  You know, the stuff of which dreams were made.  Like me, however, I know that even bald, she beams boundlessly of beauty beneath the glimmer of her gaze, within, through and surrounding the ecstatic "Elysium" of her eyes.  

SHAME ON ME, DAMMIT ALL!! What ungodly right do I have to be afraid to bear witness to the shedding of mere remembrances. She, herself, had the courage to view my awfully frightening misfortune of a face misshapen by death and disease through then not yet up to date photos chronicling my demise. So, as if to invite her to be reassured of the myriad of blessings which could/should/would befall us, together as friends or apart as individuals -- suffering through nightmarish parallels of conspicuous calamity and chaos, I today uploaded all of the photo portraits taken of me since my sixth surgery. 

These photos include me with and without extensive scarring and stitches, with and without a forehead flap to nose, remaining left with nothing but a mere mutable, more or less monstrous left nostril and lips: "quasi-motor mouth" lips.  Yet, they all capture my own innate beauty in the framing of my expressive, expansive, joyful eyes.  I want so deeply for my dear friend to see beauty in my eyes, if not in my words, written:

MAY 10, 2010 at 8:17PM PST
It's Monday, May 10. Sitting here rereading your most beautiful message to me, with a dear friend at my side. Wallace (WES) Smith is my replacement you. I wish you could meet him. He's an amazing person; much like the person I know you to be: loving, giving, understanding beyond all measure, funny, and above all, happy at just the right moments, and sad with me when I need him to be.

Chances are odd that I would sob tears of sorrow only after reading your message a second time, in the company of a friend. But with him here to witness your undying beauty in words, in pictures, in memories never lost, never forgotten, he invited me to be as open and comfortable with my feelings of regret and remorse as ever I could be or couldn't without him.

When I first read your message, I was struck with an urgent impulse to communicate with you immediately in person, but as that luxury has not presented itself, I've found time to ponder further the feelings I have around the circumstances of your writing to me.

Above all measure, I feel that yes, in fact, we are "FIGHTERS" (as you so gracefully observed), but I see what is happening to us as entirely undeserved and unjust; for that, I am heart-fully sorry.

However, I remain an eternal optimist, as I am sure you do, as well. And, I see in our enduring strength and almost pigheaded determination to outwit destiny (or death -- or whatever one might choose to call that foreboding intent of our Higher Power to outwit us outright ourselves in our hubris), the stamina and true, free will to survive beyond all odds, beyond all measure, beyond all degradation of our innate, inherent beauties.

I don't know much of your story since our senior year of high school, and I can only grasp at a mediocre mindfulness of your present suffering, yet I hear it in your words, behind the echo of a certain righteous trepidation -- something of which I have the most astute familiarity: the voice of fear. Likely also, the voice of regret and shame and injustice.

So, in your words of stamina, strength, sure will, and willingness to self-expose, I find parallels between us that I only wish could have taken different shape or different form.

How are we deserving of such pain, such suffering, one might ask? I once was compelled to cry out to my God in ever bitter bereaving those whys and wherefores of the ways in which the ill reluctantly survive despite the most awful degree of torture: cancer, coma, kidney failure, chemotherapy, catheters, or the cutting and sawing, stapling and screwing, sewing and stitching (or "re-tapestry") of face through disfigurement. Yet, I have ended my bewildered haranguing of my Higher Power, no longer to ask of reasons for my ruination.

I've accepted the injustice, the undeserved destruction of my body, as a solemn soulful, serendipitous enunciation of my own sacred self.



We are more that just fighters. We are, until the day He takes us from our endless enduring pain into ecstatic everlasting Elysium, always and evermore... SURVIVORS!

Survivors of a shared past, shared shame, shared joy and of our own shared, self-construed, self-conscious, self-structured, surreal but earthbound « jardins de paix aux champs elysées ». We are survivors today, just as we will survive tomorrow, whether tomorrow brings us great misery, pain, beauty of bold undying love. We are together survivors of immense, unfathomable, unique sufferance shared.

Together, it is my hope that we... together ...may cry out in our off-chance omniforce of grace and gratitude the quaint and quintessential hymn of our youth. Today, tomorrow, whatever life may lay at our feet, may we hold hands and stumble forward together, singing life's love song -- a simple three-word phrase: "ONWARD AND UPWARD." Always.

Remembering most fondly every beautiful moment we've shared, and not forgetting the ugly patches either, I worship your grace and pay homage to your truly blessed beauty!

Love eternal & with pride,
Gratefully & graciously yours,
Matthew Blanchard
Matt(e)o | QHereKidSF

DEATH IS A FRIEND OF OURS, AND HE THAT IS
NOT READY TO ENTERTAIN HIM IS NOT AT HOME.
-- Sir Francis Bacon (1561-1626)

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)

QHereKidSF's photostream
www.flickr.com
QHerekidSF @ 1/4-Life!! Questions, Quandaries, Conundrums and above
all else, CUTENESS, despite degradation and denigration of face. The
unfathomable fortune and fastidious splendor of spirit shown through the
face of a Fagged-Out Funambulist Freak Show : Mindflux | Matt(e)o |
Mayhem!! Enjoy!

Consequently, I feel most privileged to be able to share this writing with the followers of my blog, and with my Facebook friends. Part of me hesitates to divulge this entirely personal exchange via a blog post, but as I've set out in the past to use this blog as a tool and mechanism for record-keeping, chronicling and creatively expressing my most pungent, potent, putrid and prettily poignant passing pedantry and pontification(s), I will continue down this same route for the sake of posterity and perpetuity.  May these words resound with you, and may they be remembered.  

Who knows? Maybe, with likely permission from my begotten (not forgotten) friend, this dialogue will further develop before the blogosphere, as an intimate exchange intending to touch the hearts of millions. I've so much more to write to this dear friend of mine, as I'm sure she has many more words of wisdom with which to bequeath me in preparation of the inevitable... (i.e., the restoration and rebuilding of our relationship through remembrances, respite and reunification). DOT. DOT. DOT. God Willing! 

So I subtitle this passage: PART ONE, of more to come!!

Hopefully humble,
Humbly hopeful,
Herein and hitherto,
Straight forward to great fortune & fortitude...
Clutching the hands of my best friend(s),
I sing out in privilege and in pride,
ONWARD AND UPWARD! Always.

God willing,
Matt(e)o | QHereKidSF
Matthew D. Blanchard
San Francisco, CA USA
[2010.05.11@00:50PST]

THE DIFFICULTY IS NOT SO GREAT TO DIE FOR A 
FRIEND, AS TO FIND A FRIEND WORTH DYING FOR. 
-- Homer (800BC - 700BC)