OPINION

et's face it. When the other half of your most recent "affairette" walks out on you stealing your mother's antique Blue Willow teapot, it is a lot easier to roll a joint and curl up in front of the tube and watch I Love Lucy reruns. You call up a friend and bitch to each other over the phone and decide to go out and grab a hot dog. From the 7-11, you amble down to your favorite bar and proceed to get drunk on your ass. You wake up at 9:30 the next day, dash to the phone to try to call in sick for the second time of the month, and your supervisor tells you to forget it come in and talk about "the problem" later in the

afternoon. You know what she will say. Like the supervisor at your last job she'll tell you you'll get one more chance. You decide you don't even want to hear it. You roll another joint instead. Maybe you'll get to the appointment, maybe you won't. Rent isn't due for another ten days and you already know from two months ago that you can get the landlady to wait for maybe a week, perhaps ten days before she gets to be too much of a hassle. But then, by that time, you'll need to buy at least an ounce of dope and a few quaaludes for the weekend. And if your friends come through, maybe you'll be able to get half a gram of coke just the right commodity to get that blond dude from the park to come over sometime. You go to the refrigerator and realize there's only a few drops of milk to float over your Sugar Smacks. So you think about going over to the 7-11 to buy some milk, but you haven't showered yet and you just don't have the energy. As you gaze at the dry Sugar Smacks sitting in the bowl, somehow, life just doesn't seem to have any meaning any more. Even with half a joint of Colombian in you. You reach for your pack of Kools and realize that you smoked the last one at the bar last night. Motivation strikes. You realize now that you HAVE to get over to the 7-11. Milk is one thing, but cigarettes are quite another. So you pop a couple of aspirin and pull on your jeans and head out the door.

You don't have to worry how you look; you are assured that by 7:00 this evening you'll be looking and feeling good, as usual.

The gay "lifestyle" is not known for being healthy. For the majority of us, our lives are productive and healthy and we intersperse our weekly routines with fun activities in the gay community. But for many, the "fun" turns to a routine which conflicts with the necessary daily requirements of good nutrition, exercise and meaningful human contact.

The imaginary character described above is all too real for some. Lethargic approaches to life are certainly not confined to gays, but certain routines appear frequently that distinguish the unwell gay from the unwell straight.

The imaginary character described above is someone we all know; perhaps he is someone who we are now or were at one time in our lives. His future is uncertain (at least until the rent is paid) and his hopes for a better life are sustained in futile daydreams. We know we cannot depend on him, either as a friend or as a gay brother because he has enough trouble pulling his image. together by the evening.

The whole may sometimes be greater than the sum of its parts, but it is never less than. Every time any one of us denies our bodies or our minds the need for attention and nourishment we diminish our health. For every one of us who is unwell, our community is that much weaker.

It is always easier to smoke a joint than go for a job; to snarf down a bag of Oreos rather than cook a nutritious meal; to get drunk than confront life's problems with initiative and creativity. But a life worth living has probably never been easy. Phil Nash Editor

Publisher & Design Director

Phil Price

Editor

Phil Nash

Director of Photography

Pat Prince

Contributing Photographers Dick Janecek, John Bethune

Sports Editor

Joel Stevenson

Editorial Contributors

Thomas Fitzpatrick, Larry Wegner

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National Advertising Representative Rivendell Marketing Co.

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