Upon Arrival

The year was 1982. AIDS was still in its infancy. Jim and I were living in New York City in the artist's loft near City Hall. It was the year of our big breakup after nine long monogamous years together. Jim had just given me my first diary for Christmas. I remember that seemed odd. Jim must have known I'd need it. In February I went to Venice solo. Jim left me on the night I returned, for a disco twinkie half his age. That was the beginning of my journey. For four months I went wild, making up