In January of 1979, I moved into a studio apartment after an ugly break-up with my partner, Geoffrey. The moment I saw the small jewel box of windows perched on top of an old Victorian, it felt like the right place to be.
read moreWhen I arrived in California in 1973 at the height of the gay liberation movement, many San Franciscans were turning their attention inward as a robust Human Potential Movement became the newest revolution to sweep through the Bay Area.
read moreWhen the holidays rolled around that year, I was a thirty-year old, sober gay man living alone in a studio apartment perched on top of a Victorian in Presidio Heights. My picture window faced westward and looked onto a teepee of green lights atop the Fireman’s Fund Insurance Building about a half-mile away.
read moreWhenever Easter comes along, my thoughts return to my spiritual upbringing, mainly how lucky I was to be a kid who didn’t have religion rammed down his throat by his family, or by his church.
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