About two weeks ago a tragic event took the lives of two colorful vibrant and very loved individuals and put in extreme peril the life of another and I’m sure many of you were made aware of this tragedy by the evening news and stories in the daily papers. A number of cases of people contracting a deadly flesh-eating bacteria usually through intravenous heroin use were reported in San Francisco, the frightening condition claiming two lives and leaving three others in critical condition, rushed in and out of surgery in attempts to stop the rapidly moving bacteria in the only way possible, by surgically removing the afflicted tissue completely. This horrible tragedy was reported on with an almost sensationalistic, dramatic and grisly manner and in my opinion with out near enough precautionary emphasis at first geared towards other IV drug users whose habits could be putting their lives in peril. While specialists were being flown in from the Center for Disease Control in Atlanta and holding press conferences, it is my understanding that merely a concerned individual close to the victims was responsible for informing the needle exchange program of this life-threatening situation at hand first. Eventually the media’s coverage began to also include more pointed warnings of danger to current IV drug-users, symptoms to look out for and procedures for those who feared possible infection and thankfully the needle exchange program immediately posted and distributed proper warnings and information regarding the danger, and I believe this news and the deaths have hit many users close enough to home for them to make the decision to change their ways. The death of someone close to you is a terrible wake-up call or catalyst for change, especially when the media so far offered up merely their names followed by a comma and two words, those words being drug addict. The friends, companions and co-workers of the two deceased girls, a group of supportive individuals who’ve functioned as a make-shift family in the face of possible estrangement from actual blood relations experienced by many gays, remember Anastasia Michelle Quijas, aka Stacey and Katherine Louise Rian, aka Fiver as far more than just that.
I wasn’t as familiar with Fiver, who was the first to go, but as I understand it she was 33 years old and born in Newark, Ohio and had lived in San Francisco for the last 13 years. She was a writer and musician of note and inspiration to many and a well liked employee of the world-famous End-Up. Even admittedly her friends and those close to her say she was someone who defied description, a free spirit whose acceptance of others was always with a great deal of joy and humor and sweetness of heart. Even now her spirit still shines in the memories of those close to her, perhaps at last free as it always desired.
I knew Stacey Quijas for many years, our association dating way back to I believe the hey day of Female Trouble the groundbreaking club originated by Nancy Kravitz and DJ Stephanie Phillips at the old Nightbreak space in the upper Haight. A one night a week club featuring live female rock bands only (except for an occasional male band forced to perform in drag!), Female Trouble played host to a growing remarkable dyke punk rock scene that spawned such acts as 4 non-Blondes and Tribe 8 and in many respects was the first of it’s kind of alternative to the mainstream sub-culturally identified nightclubs that sprang up out of a definite need for a venue where this new growing movement could comfortably call home. I attended the club frequently, often as the only male present and this could often cause minor degrees of tension, which is where Stacey comes in. Having met Stacey here and there over the years at rock events that weren’t always all female, she would always greet me with a smile or hug or high-five and immediately it was noted by others around us that inspite of my being male, I must be okay because Stacey liked me, and if anyone was rude to me about my, shall we say vaginal-impairment, Stacey and a few others would set them straight, and I always had the feeling that were it necessary they would even go as far as kick some ass on my behalf. Having friends like that made me feel safe, privileged and basically like a million bucks.
She was always a vision of anarchist punk-rock aestheticism, with her leather jacket hung heavy with chains and banners and scarves, tattoos everywhere, a Mohawk haircut that eventually evolved to dreads with a backwards baseball cap, heavy black boots, fingerless gloves and an exemplary attitude that made her without a doubt a perfect dyke punk rock icon. It’s no wonder that her tattooed calves, a skeletal hand on each, one in the shape of an “L” and the other a shape of a “7” graced the cover of L7’s first LP, a huge honor considering that L7 are indeed one of the greatest and most popular all-female hard rocking bands ever, and just recently I heard that Janice the exceptional bassist from our very own bad ass girl rocker outfit Stone Fox is soon to be joining up with L7 for a stint of touring. Funny, that reminds me of a show many years ago, Stone Fox’s first record release party and I was right up in front with the hardcore fans, Stacey included and the dancing got very wild and quite by accident, Stacey’s fingerless gloved hand ended up flying into my face and I swear she nearly took my eye out. I stopped and covered my face, truly frightened for my future of continued 20/20 vision, thoughts of Sandy Duncan and Peter Falk and
Sammy Davis Jr. floating through my mind and Stacey pulled me aside and yanked my hands from my
face and gave me the once over, and said, “You’re okay, c’mon,” and yanked me back into the heat of the motion up front to finish enjoying the show, leaving me with a totally butch-looking black eye the next day that I wore proudly and even captured a date with who was drawn to that new-found rugged look. Stacey’s rugged look also landed her appearances in videos by The Melvins and L7 and she also appeared on the cover of a Tribe 8 record, not to mention lending her able-bodied abilities to set up and breakdown of many bands she’s been roadie for including Bikini Kill. The last time I saw Stacey was at her final place of employment, the End-up, where I hadn’t been seen in quite some time and was pleasantly surprised to find her effervescent smile lighting up the darkest sort of morning bar crawl.
Although the news of Stacey’s death has come to me over two weeks ago, I hadn’t realized how I truly hadn’t reckoned with it personally, and how all these memories are now coming to me and how profoundly sad and tragic it is that this young and vibrant person is no longer with us. This is the hardest sort of writing I’ve ever had to do and lord knows it isn’t the first time. One of the only comforts in writing about this is the simple fact that it may help others in dealing with the loss. I’ve found that the only way to help yourself is to help others who are struggling with the same thing. All of our memories are the only place where those who have died remain forever alive, there and in our imagination if you will, and those are two things that no one can really ever take away from us. It is there where we need to cultivate and continue the lives of our friends, think to yourself, “What would they say if they were here?” and then say it, wear or carry things they once gave you or once belonged to them, do what they would do in a given situation, and never ever forget them. It’s all we can do, and we shall do so with honor, proud of our friends and the lives they led, knowledgeable of our duties from this point on.
At press time a third victim of this horrible bacteria who is definitely a part of the same family of friends and an outstanding guitarist and individual, Cara Crash is hospitalized and still in very serious condition but is a strong girl, well-loved, and courageous and our thoughts and strength of love go out to her. We need you Cara.
One individual who has been there in every way since the beginning of this tragic situation, dealing with the many harrowing details and hospital visits and dealing with the shocked families and the gathering of personal effects and the many things that come about with an untimely death, a co-worker to all three girls Linnea LaSpinosa or LB as she is affectionately known, has been nothing short of a Saint in handling a great deal of the fall out of this tragedy. Her strength goes well beyond what any of us could begin to imagine and we are lucky to have such a caring and courageous person in our midst. A call to the Vatican for beatification is in order and that new Saint for reasons that involve far too long of a story to tell here shall be called Saint Jones. You are our rock, LB.
In the near future look for some benefit and tribute fundraising concerts with a few of the girls favorite bands. Indeed, two words were not enough.
About two weeks ago a tragic event took the lives of two colorful vibrant and very loved individuals and put in extreme peril the life of another and I’m sure many of you were made aware of this tragedy by the evening news and stories in the daily papers. A number of cases of people contracting a deadly flesh-eating bacteria usually through intravenous heroin use were reported in San Francisco, the frightening condition claiming two lives and leaving three others in critical condition, rushed in and out of surgery in attempts to stop the rapidly moving bacteria in the only way possible, by surgically removing the afflicted tissue completely. This horrible tragedy was reported on with an almost sensationalistic, dramatic and grisly manner and in my opinion with out near enough precautionary emphasis at first geared towards other IV drug users whose habits could be putting their lives in peril. While specialists were being flown in from the Center for Disease Control in Atlanta and holding press conferences, it is my understanding that merely a concerned individual close to the victims was responsible for informing the needle exchange program of this life-threatening situation at hand first. Eventually the media’s coverage began to also include more pointed warnings of danger to current IV drug-users, symptoms to look out for and procedures for those who feared possible infection and thankfully the needle exchange program immediately posted and distributed proper warnings and information regarding the danger, and I believe this news and the deaths have hit many users close enough to home for them to make the decision to change their ways. The death of someone close to you is a terrible wake-up call or catalyst for change, especially when the media so far offered up merely their names followed by a comma and two words, those words being drug addict. The friends, companions and co-workers of the two deceased girls, a group of supportive individuals who’ve functioned as a make-shift family in the face of possible estrangement from actual blood relations experienced by many gays, remember Anastasia Michelle Quijas, aka Stacey and Katherine Louise Rian, aka Fiver as far more than just that.
I wasn’t as familiar with Fiver, who was the first to go, but as I understand it she was 33 years old and born in Newark, Ohio and had lived in San Francisco for the last 13 years. She was a writer and musician of note and inspiration to many and a well liked employee of the world-famous End-Up. Even admittedly her friends and those close to her say she was someone who defied description, a free spirit whose acceptance of others was always with a great deal of joy and humor and sweetness of heart. Even now her spirit still shines in the memories of those close to her, perhaps at last free as it always desired.
I knew Stacey Quijas for many years, our association dating way back to I believe the hey day of Female Trouble the groundbreaking club originated by Nancy Kravitz and DJ Stephanie Phillips at the old Nightbreak space in the upper Haight. A one night a week club featuring live female rock bands only (except for an occasional male band forced to perform in drag!), Female Trouble played host to a growing remarkable dyke punk rock scene that spawned such acts as 4 non-Blondes and Tribe 8 and in many respects was the first of it’s kind of alternative to the mainstream sub-culturally identified nightclubs that sprang up out of a definite need for a venue where this new growing movement could comfortably call home. I attended the club frequently, often as the only male present and this could often cause minor degrees of tension, which is where Stacey comes in. Having met Stacey here and there over the years at rock events that weren’t always all female, she would always greet me with a smile or hug or high-five and immediately it was noted by others around us that inspite of my being male, I must be okay because Stacey liked me, and if anyone was rude to me about my, shall we say vaginal-impairment, Stacey and a few others would set them straight, and I always had the feeling that were it necessary they would even go as far as kick some ass on my behalf. Having friends like that made me feel safe, privileged and basically like a million bucks.
She was always a vision of anarchist punk-rock aestheticism, with her leather jacket hung heavy with chains and banners and scarves, tattoos everywhere, a Mohawk haircut that eventually evolved to dreads with a backwards baseball cap, heavy black boots, fingerless gloves and an exemplary attitude that made her without a doubt a perfect dyke punk rock icon. It’s no wonder that her tattooed calves, a skeletal hand on each, one in the shape of an “L” and the other a shape of a “7” graced the cover of L7’s first LP, a huge honor considering that L7 are indeed one of the greatest and most popular all-female hard rocking bands ever, and just recently I heard that Janice the exceptional bassist from our very own bad ass girl rocker outfit Stone Fox is soon to be joining up with L7 for a stint of touring. Funny, that reminds me of a show many years ago, Stone Fox’s first record release party and I was right up in front with the hardcore fans, Stacey included and the dancing got very wild and quite by accident, Stacey’s fingerless gloved hand ended up flying into my face and I swear she nearly took my eye out. I stopped and covered my face, truly frightened for my future of continued 20/20 vision, thoughts of Sandy Duncan and Peter Falk and
Sammy Davis Jr. floating through my mind and Stacey pulled me aside and yanked my hands from my
face and gave me the once over, and said, “You’re okay, c’mon,” and yanked me back into the heat of the motion up front to finish enjoying the show, leaving me with a totally butch-looking black eye the next day that I wore proudly and even captured a date with who was drawn to that new-found rugged look. Stacey’s rugged look also landed her appearances in videos by The Melvins and L7 and she also appeared on the cover of a Tribe 8 record, not to mention lending her able-bodied abilities to set up and breakdown of many bands she’s been roadie for including Bikini Kill. The last time I saw Stacey was at her final place of employment, the End-up, where I hadn’t been seen in quite some time and was pleasantly surprised to find her effervescent smile lighting up the darkest sort of morning bar crawl.
Although the news of Stacey’s death has come to me over two weeks ago, I hadn’t realized how I truly hadn’t reckoned with it personally, and how all these memories are now coming to me and how profoundly sad and tragic it is that this young and vibrant person is no longer with us. This is the hardest sort of writing I’ve ever had to do and lord knows it isn’t the first time. One of the only comforts in writing about this is the simple fact that it may help others in dealing with the loss. I’ve found that the only way to help yourself is to help others who are struggling with the same thing. All of our memories are the only place where those who have died remain forever alive, there and in our imagination if you will, and those are two things that no one can really ever take away from us. It is there where we need to cultivate and continue the lives of our friends, think to yourself, “What would they say if they were here?” and then say it, wear or carry things they once gave you or once belonged to them, do what they would do in a given situation, and never ever forget them. It’s all we can do, and we shall do so with honor, proud of our friends and the lives they led, knowledgeable of our duties from this point on.
At press time a third victim of this horrible bacteria who is definitely a part of the same family of friends and an outstanding guitarist and individual, Cara Crash is hospitalized and still in very serious condition but is a strong girl, well-loved, and courageous and our thoughts and strength of love go out to her. We need you Cara.
One individual who has been there in every way since the beginning of this tragic situation, dealing with the many harrowing details and hospital visits and dealing with the shocked families and the gathering of personal effects and the many things that come about with an untimely death, a co-worker to all three girls Linnea LaSpinosa or LB as she is affectionately known, has been nothing short of a Saint in handling a great deal of the fall out of this tragedy. Her strength goes well beyond what any of us could begin to imagine and we are lucky to have such a caring and courageous person in our midst. A call to the Vatican for beatification is in order and that new Saint for reasons that involve far too long of a story to tell here shall be called Saint Jones. You are our rock, LB.
In the near future look for some benefit and tribute fundraising concerts with a few of the girls favorite bands. Indeed, two words were not enough.