Fifty-nine is the 17th prime number. The next is sixty-one, with which it comprises a twin prime. 59 is an irregular prime, a safe prime and the 14th supersingular prime. It is an Eisenstein prime with no imaginary part and real part of the form 3n ? 1. Since 15! + 1 is divisible by 59 but 59 is not one more than a multiple of 15, 59 is a Pillai prime. It is also a highly cototient number.“
My birthday is July 25th. Someone on FB, upon seeing the post shown here commented It always is too fast. That may well be, but is not really the source of my surprise. As I posted the day before last year’s b-day, many of us young, sexually active queers in the 1980s could not see, could not allow ourselves to consider, retirement at age 65. Perhaps those who immediately chose celibacy could have such dreams.
Not the least bit shy about sharing stories from my past, or talking sex, I’ve yet to compile a memoir of my life in the ’80s. Much of the details are mundane- or as I put it in my poem After The Bath:
To record the events is wasted ink;
Sexual statistics stir no man’s ‘soul’.
It’s also true that I can no longer provide (if ever I could) an accurate number of sexual encounters or partners in my past; or how many hits of acid and attempts to enjoy ‘shrooms I weathered. I don’t think my experiences were quite a match for the stories contained in Oscar Moore’s A Matter of Life and Sex; but that book certainly illustrates how some of us spent our 80s. Or as I put it in the blurb on my self-published book of poetry, “he did more than his fair share to celebrate life as a gay person and promote ‘sexual rebellion’.”
Perhaps the timing of my special day also contributes to my reactions to it- June is Pride Month. June 13th was Dad’s birthday; June 12th his and Mom’s wedding anniversary- as of last year, June 12th is also the anniversary of the Orlando Massacre. And then July- the 1st is Canada’s birthday and the 4th is that US celebration. In between- well, the July 3, 1981 edition of the New York Times was the first mainstream reporting of what we come to call hiv/aids. Every year I wonder at the strange mix of fate, circumstance and blind luck that led to my being here, now.