JOHNNY & ALAN

Today I talked to Johnny and Alan. They were having a yard sale in Hollywood. I got drawn to the silk dresses, fur coats, vintage suitcases and watercolor paintings. Johnny is a muscular man with a tribal tattoo on his belly. He talks openly and introduces me to Alan, his partner. “Her blog is called Talking to L.A.”, says Johnny in sign language, so naturally that it takes me a minute to realize that Alan is deaf. Alan signs back: “That’s cool.” They own three houses in this town. Two face each other on that street. The third one (in Silver Lake) is the one they live in.

Every minute, someone pops out of a car or a corner to check out Johnny and Alan’s stuff. People ask for the price of a mannequin or a chair. Some promise they’ll come back, others just want to chat. Johnny and Alan enjoy it. All these things are props that Johnny finds for movies. He rents and sells them to have fun. “It’s my hobby. My job is to make research on HIV”, he says. He works for the Center for Disease Control – a foundation sponsored by the government.

Johnny talks about his partner with a genuine enthusiasm. “He’s a good guy”, Johnny says. “What about you?” I ask. “I’m the bad guy”, he laughs. Alan was a successful actor on TV shows. A few years ago, he received the title of “International Mister Deaf Leather 2001”, a well-known contest in the gay community that promotes the leather life style. Today, he teaches sign language and storytelling to kids. So that Alan can follow our conversation, Johnny signs every word he says. Alan gives his thoughts and Johnny blends them naturally into his sentences.

A Russian lady picks up a red suitcase. She looks at Johnny and signs with her head: “How much?” -“Twenty”, says Johnny. The lady mumbles and drops the suitcase on the floor: “Too old”. And she leaves. Johnny, not affected in any ways, looks totally relaxed. “We like doing that. We meet all kind of people. Weird, nice, and cool ones”, he says.

Then he points at the green house next to where we stand. “This house is called « The Hollywood House ». It’s a sober living house.”

Alan and Johnny opened this privately financed place four years ago to help addicts get sober. It is exclusively for gay guys. Their rent is cheap and the help is free. Most of them stay in the house for a year, but they can stay less if they want to. At the moment, The Hollywood House takes care of three men. “You can be a doctor or a prostitute, it doesn’t matter. Everyone is equal here”, adds Johnny.

Since Johnny is working full time, he hired a manager who stays in the house night and day, and looks after “the guys” - as he calls them. Johnny visits every day though. “I do that for selfish reasons. I don’t want people to experience what I did”. He got sober alone in Kentucky a few years ago. He remembers how tough it was. “It helps to be a small community living together”.

New customers walk into the front yard full of knick-knack. “How much for that fire sign?” asks a tall man. “That’s not for sale, I like this one”, says Johnny. He smiles.

VIPER

Today I talked to Viper and Ed. They sleep behind my garage, near a wall behind a bike shop. When I arrived, Viper was already awake and her dog – Molly – was standing next to her.

Viper has tiny sharp green eyes that seem to smile when she speaks. Viper is her birth name. When I ask her what her mother’s name is, she pauses before answering: “I don’t remember. But it was a Native Indian name. I’ve got a picture of her.” Ed sticks his head out of his sleeping bag and waves to me. His smile is warm and gentle.

Viper and Ed have been together for six years. They can’t get married because of the healthcare she receives. Ed has a job which means Viper would lose the money. She can’t afford it. While we are talking, Molly licks Viper’s face.

“Fifteen people (homeless) were arrested at Venice yesterday night, you gonna have work”, says Ed to Viper. She laughs. “They call us mom and dad”. She works as a homeless associate advocate. She goes to court to help “her kids”. Since Ed and her are the oldest, they are like parents to them. Ed adds: “You mess with our kids, you mess with us”. I ask Viper how she learned to defend others. “I read law books. I also do a lot of Sudoku, it’s good for my memory”.

Molly is a double rescue. There’s a strong bond between Molly and Viper. The dog never left her since the day they met. At 18 Viper was diagnosed with epilepsy, but it is only six years ago that the doctors found out she actually suffers from a rare form of it. She is slowly loosing her muscle tone and can’t walk anymore. But she can stand. Ed watches her struggle to get up but doesn’t move unless she asks him to. “She’s a strong woman”, he says. Viper had seven strokes. She laughs about it. “I’m a survivor”, she says as she pulls herself on her wheelchair.

It’s 8.45am. Ed packs their blankets and folds the green plastic tarpaulin that isolates them from the concrete. He combs his hair, then checks himself in a car window. He kisses Viper goodbye and heads to work. Viper’s voice deepens: “We’ve been around here long enough. Now our goal is to find a van and drive to Texas.” She smiles and her eyes twinkle. “That’s where our granddaughter was born 16 days ago.”