Some say that great art requires singular obsession that borders on the maniacal. I don’t know if that’s true. But clearly, many great artists destroy themselves and their loved ones.

Fred didn’t just sacrifice the beauty of his deep connection with Timothy, he let his un-named illness ravage him because he refused to take care of himself.

He burned himself out like a candle.

I wonder about artistic obsession a lot.

So writing this story was simple for me. All I had to do was close my eyes and see…

Written by

Writer. Runner. Marine. Airman. Former LGBTQ and HIV activist. Former ActUpNY and Queer Nation. Polyglot. Middle-aged, uppity faggot.

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