To my “heatlhcare” tormentors:
My dear people – so, so many of you now – 40, 50 people in like 9, 10, 12 agencies over 5 years – who knows – anyway … the list of you known and unknown gets a special page below: “The Malignant & their fantasy.”
Allow me to introduce myself. I am Jim Hlavac and I am a fabulous fellow. Yet, you insist to the last person on calling me “James” despite my repeated entreaties to you to call me Jim. This alone is symbolic of the arrogance you folks have. All of you are so sure I can pick my pronoun or change my gender willy nilly – but god forbid you call me by what everyone knows me as and I requested you do to. Or actually – most of my friends call me Hlavac. Feel free to call me Hlavac – for we shall all be friends when I am done. But – you just insist in some complete disregard of a clear request to ignore me. Do you do this with everyone? Is your sense of exalted importance that grand? Yeesh.
Do you even know how to pronounce my (h)last name? I doubt it. None of you. Perhaps one of you will be inquisitive enough to ask – NONE have done so so far – stunning. You don’t even give a damn about how to pronounce my obviously unique name. After all, I am the only man in this state with this name. Anyway …
Many are sure I should “appeal” to you your fantasy you wrote about me – and see if you still think what you think. Frankly, I don’t trust a one of you to not continue the nonsense and falsehoods, malfeasance, malpractice, incompetence, fraud, lies, misconstruing every thing I said, one word truncated versions of complex stories, and outright fantasy, etc., etc. And well, I am too darn complex – my life too rich, filled with wonder, and varied for me to use your silly little forms. Not to mention there’s just so many of you! So – this post to start – and all those that follow on this blog back to 2012 – is my “appeal.” And so much more awaits at my house in my laptop and on my walls – as well as an information package with letters of support for me from Mazatlan to Prague – and still further details of this astonishing nonsense you instigated. You can also come hear me play piano to the delight of all in the lobby of St. Joseph’s Hospital at Thomas Road & N 7th Avenue. I am the official “Lobby Pianist” volunteer there, after all. I play from about noon to 4 PM several days a week – I am just getting back into it after a broken wrist – which none of you know about.
How else can I explain me? There is no other way. I am not anything you labeled me – I am a Jovial Creative Polymath. (Look the word up.) I do not fit your boxes or forms. I tried to explain – you told me you don’t want to know. Instead, you all asked about troubles – I said I had none – you thought me lying or delusional – or yourselves so into creative writing that you created an alternative me – which sits there maliciously in my medical records. Strangers, mostly women yet, are calling me and coming to my door at your behest to tell me I am basically insane and incompetent. Just this past week in June 2017 a man calls me from Mercy-Maricopa to wonder if my memory works and he’s fixated on cocaine in the 1980s when gay men died by the 10s of 1000s – and dismissed the dead as crap! Enraging. Next, a woman comes to my house to tell me “So, you’re seeking services” as if I am a hopeless child. NO! – I am seeking a gay male counselor to speak to about gay male issues – and you heterosexuals are malignant idiots on the matter. Astonishing.
You all dismissed my religious beliefs, my heritage and ethnicity, my family, my art, my writing, my music – and my life – as nothing – or a delusion. You all simply dismissed my existence to create your fantasy. Why? I don’t know – arrogance I suppose. I don’t care, really. Whatever, let us now explore it all and hopefully reach a happy conclusion, rather than a court case.
You have compelled me to do this. I have appealed to your sense of reason repeatedly – and oddly – you all seem to have none. You seem to prefer a court case where you will be eviscerated, rather than talk to me to find out what the fuss is about. You people are out of your minds. However, the simple issues for me were 1) getting the AIDS drugs and 2) a gay male counselor to discuss surviving 40 years of AIDS. You all told me – “No, this is not your problem” – as you all went on a labeling spree the likes of which I have never seen. I shall lay this all out for you now in a succession of blog posts put up over this past week – where in which I post oh, a dozen or so complex explanations to the various parts of this spectacular puzzle – and examine what you wrote. I heartily recommend you read everything below – until you get to the art I posted in September 2016 – my last post before all this, since I had thought to just let the blog lay fallow. I was bored after 980 articles on 101 subjects. Anyway, the public press being a wonderful instrument – and amply protected by the First Amendment, and Snyder too – I publish here for a candid world – my opinions, statements, accusations, facts, beliefs and so forth – and your names and organizations too – so everyone is aware of who all is involved. Though, to be sure – the 160+ articles posted in 2012 through 2016 all fits within the puzzle – you’ll love it! I am a fine writer. You will also learn my view of heterosexuals, which you all are – which is dim indeed.
Frankly – you all know nothing about me. I aim to teach you, since you are all so inquisitive, but astonishingly deaf, dumb and blind. So wedded to your computers are you – that you believed a box checked off by a Nigerian “prince” that said I was “Severely Mentally Ill” – with him not having any qualifications to make such a determination. And then you just piled on, disorder after disorder, problem after problem – right up to “inbred.” Are you people that insane?
Though, it also seemed to start within days of me ever saying “hello” to SAAF when they labeled me a meth addict and more. So malignant is one Relles Abeytia of Southwest Network – that after I told the miserable skunk to stay the hell away from me for he was a pointless fool in my life – he went back to his office and labeled me paranoid – and sent the police to my house! His self-proclaimed importance in my life is malicious – he is the most evil among the lot of you.
You do not know that I first got to Phoenix, Arizona on a Greyhound bus in November of 2002. Within 3 days I wound up working at the Phoenix Metcalf HI Hostel at 1026 North 9th Street. I also wound up playing piano at the San Carlos Hotel and Hyatt and Ramada – and other places – My Florist – wherever there were pianos. And I had an art exhibit at the Willow House (now defunct) at McDowell and 3rd Avenue. So I spent a fine 4 or 5 months here that first winter. Then I returned to Louisiana and wrote a book – “A Hidden Impact: the Czechs and Slovaks of Louisiana from the 1720s to today” – and then I returned to Arizona every winter for several months for the next 10 years. And let me tell you – if I can find Czechs in Louisiana in the 1720s – I can find out what is in your system that you have fantasized about me.
You do not know this – nor anything I did in Louisiana – in which I lived from 1985 until August, 2011. You have no idea that I helped create the Cajun food industry, and the first statewide music directory, nor that I was the Temporary Honorary Consul of the Czech and Slovak Republics to Louisiana during Hurricane Katrina. Lordy knows what you think I did in Louisiana – for 25 years. You will all be quite surprised. In the summer of 2011 due to other bureaucratic obscurantism (word of caution, I do use words you might have to look up, I will not dumb myself down for “educated” people as you all are so sure you are.) I was not allowed by the VA to continue to tend my friend of 20 years, now a 90 year old man, a WWII vet at that, in his own home – because they were sending in home health nurses – and I was “not family.” So – I was chased away. What to do, what to do?
So, I went to Mississippi for a few months to spend time with a survivor of the Upstairs Lounge massacre – you should look that up. And so I regaled Natchez with my piano music. Of my music – you know nothing – you actually claim and/or imply it is all delusional. I have a youtube channel with my music. I suggest you turn to that now, so you can all listen to the music I create as you read this all in its entirety. It is quite pleasant, luscious, complex and beautiful. In my laptop there are another, oh, 2000 pieces – I don’t know, I don’t count them. It’s all wonderful stuff. And all evidence of my mental state while in Arizona – it whooshes out of me endlessly.
Then I went to Mazatlan, Mexico! – Ay Caramba! – Puedo hablar espanol muy bueno tambien! And I contemplated what city do I go to next? Tucson! – so I went – and in five days had an apartment.
It was a city I had been to many times – because – part of my job at the Phoenix Hostel was making sure international and national tourists got to see our fine state. I know the state very well, thank you very much. So, I went to Tucson to work on my 3rd book – on a topic very germane to the issue at hand. It is titled “The Pink Sheep of the Ninth Circle: Homosexuality, Homosexuals, Sissies, Queers, Faggots and Gay Men.” It is my iconoclastic view of the way heterosexuals look at and talk about gay guys – and who we really are. The entirety of it will be evidence in a court trial, should we come to nasty business – you should read it, quite illuminating. (May as well as read the other 13 books I published since 2013 too, right there on Amazon, it’s all evidence of my “mental condition” in Arizona.)
You do not know that I got my first Arizona ID in 2003 (the state will have a record, I am sure.) So in both Tucson in 2012 and Phoenix in 2014 where you all believed I was some wandering whacko in “survival mode” – I had in fact been amply connected to the state since 2002.
Nor do any of you know where I am from. I am from New York City and Long Island – a place known for rapid speech and a “we don’t care, get out of the way” attitude – and you so amply noted with concern: “James speaks rapidly.” Yes, well, in a New York Minute. Listen faster – I have no time to dawdle. In fact – I had no time for you people – I didn’t want to speak to a one of you – I wanted a gay male counselor of some kind. Yet, you all insisted I speak to this or that female bureaucrat first so you could determine with your astonishing arrogance if that is what you felt I really needed. Your conclusion? I did not need this by your fetid minds. You determined – without knowing a thing about me – what you would allow – and you determined it was another female bureaucrat to sign more forms – that’s chutzpah, folks. Malpractice of some kind, too.
What you also do not know is that I grew up in a big boisterous Czech immigrant family. Not “Czechoslovakian” – no Slovakians in my family. Nor some usual ¼ this, and ¼ that, and dash of this and “I think my grandma was from Italy, but I don’t know.” Nope. I grew up in My Big Fat Czech Family (a movie might be made of it.) It was bilingual – Czech – all the elders spoke Czech – and I am in touch still with a vast family over there in numerous cities and towns from every side of my forefathers. You do not know I am the 2nd oldest grandchild born in America – and I knew all those elders – and so from the age of oh, Zero – I heard Czech. Chcete mluvit česke? To je zajimavy. I speak this language fairly competently – not fluently – but eh, I can spend all day speaking it – Neni problemu – not a problem. You should also go look up the famous Czech vowel-less phrase “Strč prst skrz krk” – as you think about what you all have done to me.
So – I grew up there in that milieu – and everyone figured out as a tender child I was gay. I did not go around saying “I am a homosexual” in the early 1970s – I went around exclaiming “Egad, is that guy adorable!” I was 12 years old. I was “out” in Junior High in the 1970s, my dear people. I was never “in the closet.” And ALL my family was “So, you’re Jimmy’s friend, what do you want to eat?” to every guy I ever brought to the family gatherings. It was a huge loving family then – and today – and you wrote? “James has no contact with his family.” What miserable nonsense.
Well, this is just the beginning. Read on my dear people – and drop your obtuse, obdurate, obstreperous, obfuscated obnoxious nonsense. You have my permission to research and investigate me till your eyes pop out – I do not care. You know why? All you will find is good, a trail of wondrous acts, and you will marvel at what I did. You shall be astounded I assure you. For that’s what polymaths do – we get things done. You have my permission to pull every single last facebook post and comment I made since I joined – and every comment I ever made across the internet. You can criminal investigate, and medical investigate and civil litigation investigate in every jurisdiction in this nation – and all you will find is good works, good deeds, and amazing projects. If I wrote just one line for all the projects I did since the 1970s right up to today it would fill 50 pages.
But you know, this really starts in 1978. Because for some reason you are fixated on my brother – whose name you do not know, nor even if he was older or younger than me. Nor do you know that I have another brother – and a sister. Yes, yep, one brother did commit suicide. I do not know why. I did not talk to the man for 40 years – but not because I did not have contact with my family, oh no. But because he – and my other brother – for some reason I do not know – went off by themselves and never spoke to anyone in the family again. An explanation of those two confounded brothers of mine is below in the posts. However, when you find out about my sister and I – oh, then some heads will be turned. I do not post about her here for a very simple reason. I zealously guard my sister and her two children from any publicity – for a reason you will come to find out – a reason related to a major national event. I have here at my house her story, you are welcome to come hear it.
Why 1978? Well, that’s when my two brothers joined the Air Force, and I last saw them again. They went off to listen to President Jimmy Carter give orders to fine upstanding airman in the defense of the nation. And me? I bought a one way ticket to San Francisco to join the vaunted “homosexual lifestyle” as a social pariah the nation despised. I met Harvey Milk, you know. I also wrote two letters – one to Jimmy Carter, one to Governor Dixie Lee Ray of Washington state where I was enjoying life at that time – on the gay thing, as I call it. They both responded. Their letters to me are below in the posts, my letters to them are in their archives, and in my house – astonishing gay history, really. So while my two brothers went off and had all their needs taken care of and followed orders from the president – I wrote the man and told him to get a move on in being decent to gay men. For back then, gay men were treated like garbage. Bizarrely – I find in this year – the same miserable attitude towards gay men as garbage by you people. Just stunning.
I want you all to be sure – I do NOT want a court battle with you. Nope. Why? I don’t have the time for a year long trial where I will enter every single thing I did from July 2012 as evidence for me, and reaching back to 1978, even childhood, since you imagined things about that time too – as you fumble around and go “but, we thought …” because you did not think. You assumed. Disastrously so. For you assumed me a basket case – and I am, as I say, a jovial creative polymath. You perhaps sit there smugly with a smirk and stare into your computers and go “Oh, he’s just a silly old severely mentally ill queer.” One woman at COPE just so blithely said “Well, it says so right here!” Well, I am going to wipe those smirks off your faces.
Anyway, here’s my idea to resolve this. For I will not allow this crap (oosh, curse word!) for it is crap – the malicious malignant fantasy you all wrote – to remain on my record – as I worry what next round of danger you will put me in. Sending police to my house is dangerous, as you have done twice so far, especially considering the labels and problems you have ascribed to me. It will be removed voluntarily with great cheer (and a lot of humility) by you all – or I will get a judge to order you to remove it. And if I have to take you all to a court – I shall come after you for your jobs and licenses and millions of dollars. Clear? Good. For let me assure you – you all have committed malpractice and fraud and more. I do not know what laws have been broken, or what other legal remedies might be available – yet. Please do not make me find out, you shall not weather the storm. I do not know what state investigatory agencies would love to look into what you did, but I would be pleased to alert them. I would much rather just go play the piano and work on the many other projects I have conceived. I am a busy man, and you all are in my way.
Now, now, don’t be looking at what you wrote – for that is crap, about which I present just some highlights below. What you all should do is this: read all that I wrote here, all the way back to 2012 even, and then pick a few emissaries from among you and come visit me in my home. Where I can present to you even further delights of evidence against you all, and buttressing me. For what is presented here is a mere drop in the bucket. And here at my home I can show you still further the malicious malignant nonsense you imagined – line by line through 350+ pages of fantasized nonsense you all wrote. And I haven’t even seen it all – who knows what other miscreant garbage that strumpet Lindsay Morgan of JFCS wrote. Who knows what nonsense you people fabricated about me.
Are you all ready to be served subpoenas to appear for trial until you are sick of ever having met me? Or do you wish to learn first of your folly in a happy way? Ask yourselves: “Do we believe the crap we wrote? – or is this man possibly speaking the truth?” Do you still think your fantasy is real? Or do you perhaps, finally, have a shred of rationality left in your fetid minds to go “hmm, let us talk to this guy, and find out what the fuss is about.” Your choice, of course. My way is pleasant, a court case will be horrendous for you. Perhaps you have a fetish for litigation over rational discussion. I shall find out.
And then, at that time, I shall ask further recompense, already outlined in the “Indictment & Relief Sought” post. I believe, I truly hope, that after you actually come to know me – you will make reasonable restitution for having hauled me to a psych ward based on your fantasy. For denying me months worth of the AIDS drugs in two cities. For pushing a harmful mind altering drug on me. And for denying me the gay male counselor that I could call up and make an appointment with to discuss surviving 40 years of AIDS and heterosexual nonsense. (And yes, feel free to send me a gay male counselor so I can talk to him about what I really wish to discuss.)
You know folks, before most of you were born, or at most were toddlers or kids – I was burying a friend or two a week – for 10, 15 years – and I thought I might be among them – but I was not. I do indeed admit, I am a cranky old gay geezer who lived through astonishing times – and I do indeed have strong emotions about it. Very manageable emotions – but well – when you bury a 100 friends – surely you have a shred of compassion to understand there might be some emotions, yes? Or are gay men not allowed to have feelings at all? As so many seem still to deny we have; we are but “SEX!” yet to so many heteroos (my charming term for such people.) Judith Norton of MIHS – a woman I had never met in my life, with a sickening wink wink nudge nudge, handed me 100 condoms at the first moment of our first meeting. What a fine way to meet a man seeking life saving pills. “Go screw your brains out, no pills for you.” Pitiful. Disgusting.
Anyway – that’s where we stand. Me – against you all. I will not relent. And I shall win. So, the ball is in your court. Send me anyone you wish – send a squadron of ASU professors – a herd of psychologists, psychiatrists and musicologists and art appraisers – or a load of lawyers. I do not care. And you know why? Polymaths are very, very smart and astonishingly productive, and very rational – and I can prove every single thing I did in Tucson and Phoenix, and in my life – all completely opposite to what you imagined. Indeed, if what you all wrote was remotely true – I could not have done what I did and do. And all you have to stand on is what you wrote after having met me for 15 or 20 minutes to sign your forms – all of which is a bizarre fantasy.
Have a pleasant day, start your thinking, reading and researches – and let us amicably come to a happy conclusion for all of us. You know where to reach me.
One last thing – there are five pictures in the next post. First, a memorial notice for my dear friend Neil Murphy, dead in 1986, the reason I wanted to speak to someone. Second, a maze I drew in Tucson as you claim I state “I can’t concentrate” (It’s one of 40 I did there.) Third, a picture of my monumental 4′ x 4′ painting of 5,000 years of gay history I painted in 2014 for this “L(g)BTQITSAPGNC” “Consortium” here in Phoenix – you can’t wait to hear my views on this monstrosity of a “community.” It’s at the Parson’s Center – they seem hopeless in finding a spot to hang it. Months already, egad, miserable. And fourth & fifth, 2 pictures of me and my cat Schroder – who is named after the Peanuts cartoon piano player who is vocal about not liking girls – so you know what I look like.
Thank you for your attention, let us get to work – and cheers … this will be fun, or miserable – your choice.
Here, a form, which you so adore:
____ Cooperate ____ Get Eviscerated
what a choice, eh!
your favorite Hlavac
Welcome to what we in the family call a:
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