These guys were smart, delightful company, and a lot of fun. Some were my friends. Some remain in my pantheon of artists. I still sorely miss Keith Haring. They also flagrantly violated guidelines that would have kept them alive, like keeping it in your pants or at least not fucking every guy in the bathhouse bareback. This was the rule, not the exception. I watched this happen in terror when it was called GRIDS, then when it was called AIDS. These guys, I am sorry to say, almost always brought on their own gruesome and painful deaths.