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Last weekend, over a lunch of so-called southern food at a very cool (but not southern) West Village bistro, an old friend decided a discussion of my looks, size and body mass was called for, (you know who you are). For future reference, never, ever, ever approach weighty issues with a guy sensitive of them while having greasy make-believe home cooking, especially if said guy is in the West Village or Chelsea. It makes the walk down 8th Avenue even more painful.
So I'm just fine, coughing and basking in my bronchial misery, worry of economic downturns, apartment hunting, mentally ill drug-dependent relatives and job transfers to the third-world when I read this baby Jesus hating mess: 
He tried to stay in D.C. after Clinton, it didn't work. So he scored enough money to run for Governor of New Mexico. You'd think he would have been happy there but not so for the incessant Bill Richardson. He wanted to be President, didn't happen. Then he begged to be Secretary of State. Nah, sorry. Finally, U.S. President-Elect Barack Obama threw something his way. My only question is, will Bill Richardson finally shut the fuck up now? Let's hope so. 
I think about him less and less over the last 15 years, but today I'll stop to remember and make note here of a guy named Carlos Lopez-Sanchez. He was only 38 when he died from complications related to HIV, AIDS. Carlos personified masculinity, was an accomplished horseman and trained Thoroughbred race horses for a living. He was of Spanish heritage but grew-up in central Mexico on a large family ranch. He attended law school in Mexico City before immigrating to the United States around 1980. Carlos was rugged, handsome, a mop of black hair typically covered by a white Stetson hat; He spoke perfect Spanish, a sign of his roots in Spain and so unlike many native Mexicans and had a deep, soft and strong voice, never raising it unless in laughter. He was stubborn, the strong and silent type. He was a gentleman in every sense, a mentor, a friend and never met an animal he didn't love unconditionally. He loved the land and the outdoors and everything about him I wish I could have been. He was also the first and only great love of my life. In his last months I nursed him as best I could, minus insurance and only living off the grace of family and friends. I quit school and work and focused on him, the only thing I really cared about. If he could have hung in there just another year or two, I'm convinced he would have been alive today as 1993, in retrospect was the cusp of AIDS becoming a more manageable yet still deadly disease. A cruel disease. I'm thinking of Carlos today and wanted to share a little about him. He was a fine man, an honest soul and I miss him sorely.