Free Koolaids by Alameddine Rabih

them to a horny, unruly mob. This is the lesson of Sodom and Gomorrah: Homosexuals are bad.
    â€¦
    â€œHabibi?”
    â€œI’m here, dear.”
    â€œThe catheter hurts.”
    â€œDo you want me to increase your dosage?”
    â€œNo, no. It’s okay.”
    â€œWould you like anything?”
    â€œYes. A naked Julio Cortázar on a platter.”
    â€œShit. I’m still working on Naipaul. Are you sure you wouldn’t settle for Tom Cruise?”
    â€œUgh. I’d even take Gore Vidal first. I still have some taste.”
    Luckily, those were not Scott’s last words, but it was a close call.
    â€¦
    I idolized Karim. We moved in different circles most of the time, but we did spend time together. He played guitar in a rock hand. I attended all their concerts, as well as many of their practices. The hand was atrocious, but he played well. I think he enjoyed the fact the hand was awful, since everybody noticed how well he played. He enjoyed having me around, being that I worshiped him.
    I still consider the skiing trip we spent together as the best time of my life. His family had a chalet in The Cedars. I don’t care what other people say, The Cedars was the best skiing in Lebanon. Even though Faraya and Fakra were more modern resorts, The Cedars was better, less pretentious, less nouveau riche. The Cedars itself, the village, was one of the oldest villages in Lebanon, so it had a natural charm. The resort was old money, class all the way. Anyway, what man in his right mind, if given an opportunity to ski among ten-thousand-year-old trees, would give that up to ski somewhere else just because they had better ski lifts? The Cedars was the best skiing in the world.
    I had gone up as a guest of Jamal, whose family also had a chalet up there. It was Easter vacation, 1974, a few months before everything changed. We were only staying for a couple of days; both Jamal’s father and Karim’s had business to attend to. Those couple of days were uneventful. When the time came for us to get back to Beirut, Karim decided he wanted to stay. He actually asked me if I wanted to stay with him for another week. For whatever reason, he assumed I was hesitating. He explained to me all the fun we could have just the two of us, the parties we could attend, the extra skiing we could do, the alcohol we could drink, wink, wink. I did not need any convincing. I would have stayed with him no matter what we did.
    That week was great. I discovered so much. I learned how to drink vodka. I learned how to smoke hash, how to tell the difference between the various blends. I met all these different people. We had a party every night. We also started a ritual which Karim and I would repeat practically every time we met. We would both get high out of our minds before we got to bed. We would both be in our underwear. He would play guitar just for me. I was in heaven.
    I learned much that week. I figured out I was homosexual. There were times early on when I knew I liked boys, but I always thought I would outgrow the predilection. That week I figured I would never outgrow it. I also figured out I really didn’t want to. At the time, I could not care less if I had sex with Karim. I loved him and that’s all that mattered. He obviously liked me too. What else could a boy want? I was very happy that week.
    I also learned much about other boys. Quite a few of the other boys who came to our parties were very different than I was. They were modern. They handled their drugs much easier, also their Scotch. They were more sophisticated. They spoke of Nietzsche as if he were one of their best friends. They were all teenagers like I was, but many of them seemed like a different breed. They all talked about politics like adults. They could all put together a machine gun, and then dismantle it, blindfolded.
    I thought that was cool.
    The war started not long after.
    â€¦
    The invalid is a parasite on society. In a