Author Archives: Joe

About Joe

I began my life in the South and for five years lived as a closeted teacher, but am now making a new life for myself as an oral historian in New England. I think my life will work out the way it was always meant to be. That doesn't mean there won't be ups and downs; that's all part of life. It means I just have to be patient. I feel like October 7, 2015 is my new birthday. It's a beginning filled with great hope. It's a second chance to live my life…not anyone else's. My profile picture is "David and Me," 2001 painting by artist Steve Walker. It happens to be one of my favorite modern gay art pieces.

Pic of the Day


Moment of Zen: Kisses


Pics of the Day


Forget Yesterday’s Title

I’m still sick. I don’t feel any better than I did on Monday when I saw the doctor. I’m still have a fever, headache, sore throat, and a persistent cough. I thought the codeine cough syrup would help, but it did not phase the coughing. It did however allow me some sleep. I want some relief. I called the doctor’s office yesterday to ask to come back in for further evaluation, and I was told a nurse would call me back. No one called me back. Rest assured, I’ll be calling them first thing this morning.


Pic of the Day


Getting Better, I Think

Hopefully, the worst is over with. I still have no energy. My doctor said this was viral and would take a while to get over it. When I talked to the nurse yesterday, she said if I get worse over the weekend to call the on call number. If I was not better by Monday, I’d have to come back to the office. I’m hoping I’ll be better by then. The main thing is the persistent coughing. At least he took mercy on me and prescribed a stronger cough medicine with codeine.


Pic of the Day


Still Sick

I did go to the doctor on Monday. I have an upper respiratory infection and severe post nasal drip. Yuck. I can’t stop coughing, and I haven’t slept in three days. Add fever and vomiting to that and you might know how I feel. To say I’m miserable would be an understatement.


Pic of the Day


Silver Filigree

Silver Filigree
by Elinor Wylie

The icicles wreathing
On trees in festoon
Swing, swayed to our breathing:
They’re made of the moon.

She’s a pale, waxen taper;
And these seem to drip
Transparent as paper
From the flame of her tip.

Molten, smoking a little,
Into crystal they pass;
Falling, freezing, to brittle
And delicate glass.

Each a sharp-pointed flower,
Each a brief stalactite
Which hangs for an hour
In the blue cave of night.


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