Feb. 3rd, 2018

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Back in November 2016, I noted the ongoing demolition of 1120 Dupont Street. The former Harry's Motors was now going to host a six-story self-storage facility. As I went out walking this morning, I saw this crane standing tall as I have every day for the past month. The construction continues.

Crane at 1120 Dupont Street #toronto #dovercourtvillage #dupontstreet #cranes #construction
rfmcdonald: (photo)
My eye was caught when I saw, on a subway train somewhere in Brooklyn, this ad advertising PrEP.

"Take Part in a Sexual Health Revolution" #newyorkcity #newyork #subway #ad #prep #hiv #hivaids #hivawareness #latergram #preexposureprophylaxis


The preventative use of the drug Truvada to prevent HIV infection in HIV-negative people has come a long way. I first noted PrEP directly in a November 2014 post, that one reflecting on how far the idea of using anti-HIV medications to prevent HIV infection had come since I first heard of the idea in a 2005 article talking about how crystal meth users would take Truvada component tenofovir before heading off on drug-fueled orgies.

PrEP has gone far beyond those early days. It is now mainstream, approved of by the CDC and supported by the New York City Department of Health. Local health organizations like the Gay Men's Health Crisis and the Callen-Lorde Community Health Centre can apparently set people up with Truvada at reasonable cost and in reasonable amounts of time. It's even available in Canada, Truvada being covered since September under Ontario's provincial drug plan. I'm considering the mechanics of getting on it myself.

And yet, here in Ontario and in Toronto, home to a MSM community surely as intrisically at risk of HIV infection as New York City's, PrEP does not have nearly the same mainstream presence as in New York City. The biggest article I've seen on it on the non-LGBTQ media was Josh Dehaas' oddly dismissive article. Straight people I've talked to about the drug here in Canada have been routinely amazed by the fact of the existence of PrEP. Shouldn't Toronto, at least, try to change this?
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This heart-breaking long-form article by Anthony Oliveira, published at Hazlitt, shares an insider's perspective on the Church and Wellesley community in the context of the recent revelations a serial killer has been working here for years.

It is mid January, 2018. I am sitting in the press conference for Andrew Kinsman’s family. We are in the 519 Community Centre; above the lobby bulletin board hangs a sign: “FAMILIES DEFINE THEMSELVES.” The conference is in the ballroom on the second floor. The last time I was here it was full of steamy bodies—the humid rain had moved the TreeHouse Party inside, and we danced in the microclimate of our sweat. I remember a friend’s hand in the small of my clammy back that made me wriggle and slap them away.

Now it is cold. Journalists and equipment personnel sparsely laugh and chat, milling near a hastily erected coffee station. One behind me loudly barks: “There’s probably a book in this!” The family is huddled, watching them. Watching us, I guess. They have just learned an arrest has been made. They have just learned, for certain, that their brother was killed. They are waiting for the body to be found.

They speak imperfectly, as all of us would. They think aloud of the child that Andrew was. Shelley Kinsman takes no questions after her statement. I watch her anxiously clutching and persistently rubbing a small black stone with both hands throughout. I never find out what it was. She looks like my mother, fretting at her rosary beads.

Andrew’s sister Karen tells a story about how her brother wanted to be a paleontologist, and how the family once hid a cow femur and convinced him there must be dinosaurs buried in the yard. He dug and dug until, ecstatic, he found the bones.

The room shifts uncomfortably and moves quickly past the infelicitous image.
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