Michael Verney-Elliott

                                               16th February 1938 - 5th March 2007

The late Michael Verney-Elliott was a pioneering HIV/AIDS dissident and one of the funniest people I ever met... Back in the earliest days of questioning HIV/AIDS, the Meditel offices in Covent Garden was "Dissident Central" and my friend Michael Verney-Elliot was a major contributor to what has developed into a world-wide Rethinking AIDS Movement. In paying tribute to my friend - I want to acknowledge just how skilfully Michael used his cutting edge wit and sense of irony to make a point and/or to lighten the moment. Working, networking and hanging out with M. V-E. was always a pleasure and always a learning experience... Until we meet again-

 I am extremely sorry to hear that Michael has died. I remember meeting Michael in Amsterdam at the Alternative AIDS Conference in 1992.  You are right in that we got on very well and in fact Michael was the person who gave my Reappraisal of AIDS paper to Peter.  At the 1992 Alternative AIDS Conference, the only time I remember that the existence of HIV was raised occurred in an informal gathering of a small group at one of the breaks.  I stated that HIV may not exist.  Jad Adams strongly objected and said that it had been seen.  Joe Sonnabend smiled and said she may be right.   Once again our sincere condolences from all of us here.  Eleni (and Val)

  Eleni Eleopulos, on Michael Verney-Elliott's death, 6 March, 2007.

Once again I am so so sorry for your loss.  Michael was really a cornerstone of the dissident movement. I am sure everybody will feel his loss. I read the article and I think that it is extremely well written and although I do not agree with everything Michael says there, it doesn't mean that I am right.  It would be very good if you could publish it but most probably you will find it difficult.  I think your best chance would be Medical Hypothesis, unfortunately their page charges are very high. All the best, Eleni ...The thing which most often comes to mind about Amsterdam is how much I wanted Mike to be present in my conversation with Montagnier which unfortunately did not happen.  Alex, let me repeat it once again, how big a loss Mike's death is and how much we will miss him.  Please send me your tribute when you finish it.  Best regards, Eleni

Eleni Eleopulos, on M.V.E's SIV & Poliovaccination, and on AIDS: A Different View, Amsterdam, 1992;  19 & 29 March, 2007.

What stands out in my mind about Michael was his unending good humour.  This was despite his having been privy to the scientific challenges to the HIV theory from a very early stage.  In fact, I believe he was pivotal in enabling Joan Shenton’s Meditel to first carry news of those challenges to a wider public in the “Forgotten Voices” documentary during the 1980s.   So much has rested on that film.  It was a glimmer of light in a dark period for medical science.  The light has refused to be extinguished since, and thanks especially to the work of the Perth Group and others, today millions are aware of the unproven nature of the HIV theory and aspects of the crazy and self-deceiving behaviour surrounding it.

Neville Hodgkinson, 07 March, 2007.

I first met Michael in 1990, when he and the rest of the Meditel team interviewed me in New York City, where I was then living. For the next several years we seemed very close, and saw each other often - Michael and Joan and the AIDS dissidents in London, Europe, North and South America - including the Bologna conference (1994) and the
Buenos Aires conference (1995).  I continued to correspond with him up until last year, through e-mail and over the phone. Mostly I remember the clarity of his thoughts and his enunciation, and his incisive sense of humour, which often served to illuminate a difficult analysis.  For example, he once said: "HIV does not cause AIDS; AIDS causes HIV." - by which he meant that the AIDS illnesses (whatever they are) cause positive readings on the ("HIV-antibody") tests, which are then used to generate bogus "AIDS" diagnoses. As a gay man and a freethinker, Michael did not flinch from the possibility that the deaths of hundreds of thousands of gay men were not just an unfortunate result of an unfortunate medical blunder, but were intended from the very beginning - intended from the very inception of the AIDS Hoax.

John Lauritsen, Dorchester, Massachusetts, 03 May 2007.   

I adored Michael, and I also really loved him, from the moment I first met him, with Joan, back in 1988 I think it was. I thought he was one of the funniest, most brilliant, outrageous and original minds I ever encountered. He always had us roaring with laughter. He slipped away from me over many years, starting some time in the 90s. Maybe it was the isolation rift and his perception that our heads over in New York were hopelessly clouded; All I know is I tried to get him to be like we used to be but I couldn't. I missed him, a lot. I got scared and belligerent and accused him of abandonment. I finally got him on the phone, maybe 6 months ago, and we were able to talk again, properly. And he expressed something that we rarely talk about in here. He said that he felt he'd given up, spiritually, that he no longer knew whether we were really on to the right track or not, after Huw and Molly died, or at the very least that he felt it was just too hard. He coughed a very nasty hacking cough and he said the nastiness of the aids war had done that to him, that and a few packs a day I presume. I begged him to come to New York , for old time's sake, but he didn't think he could make it. He sounded sad. Then he perked up and launched into a presentation about how the haemophiliac data fit together, how he had put it all together, and it made sense. I was happy to hear him excited about data again. He was so electrifying then. I cried tonight, a lot, thinking about him. I wanted us all to be together when the AIDS wall came down, and now we won't be. Michael was one of the original gang, of 87. My friend Rob Drescher who also knew Michael asked why I was crying and I said a lot of reasons. But above all, Verney didn't make it to the end of the play.  I know he wanted to see how it would end. Rest in peace Michael Verney Elliot. You were very loved. 

Celia Farber (aka Candice), 08 March 2007. 

I heard about Mike's death from Joan yesterday. I'm glad for him, I got the impression that he wasn't enjoying life very much. On several occasions when I found myself in your neck of the woods, I rang him and either got no answer or he seemed too out-of-sorts to want see anybody or camp around. His Go-Back will serve as a constant epitaph. Coincidentally, on Sunday evening as I wended my way to Joan's for a bite to eat, I articulated for the first time one of Mike's 90's sayings "I wish I was dead". I think I know exactly what he meant, if people are so stupid as to persist with the theory of infectious antibodies, then let them get on with it, but without him. I rather feel like that now, not only about the wretched AIDS business, but so much else in medicine...There are the ones about "From the people who didn't bring you the virus that causes cancer, it's the virus that doesn't cause AIDS."  A propos Gallo & Montagnier, "Who the fuck cares about who stole the fake jewels"  And then there is the one about "The virus that can do everything from splitting ends to in-growing toenails."  The one that has been bugging a lot of late was Mike's outburst one summer evening in Joan's St. Ann's Road "How the fuck is spunk supposed to transmit it, if there's no HIV in semen?"  At the time I just thought, what!!!  My enduring memory of him is his constant agonising about SIV and how that fitted it with the overall story... In those days, I was still so naive  to think, it depended on people like me (or should do), those who were trained in the field. Little did I know how right he was actually, we who were so trained were completely corrupted/fucked up by our wrong paradigms and self-righteousness - people like Mike were right, someone of independence of mind, much to my surprise.~ Hector

Volker Gildemeister, 6 &7 March, 11 April, 2007.  

Calling Mike at Meditel in the early years of the “AIDS war” –as we used to call it- was like tuning into the Monty Python show for me.  It was just as funny, as real, as sarcastic with our opponents and as compassionate with the AIDS victims as I perceived the Monty Python/John Cleese shows.  I could even “mention the war” and immediately Mike would call me “Rommel” – whom he considered a worthy match of his British rival “Monty”.

It was a hard war to fight against that huge HIV-AIDS establishment.  But every time we won one over, not to accept the death spell associated with that government sponsored antibody test – be it Neville Hodgkinson from the Sunday Times or just an ordinary student – and every time we won one over to forsake those inevitably toxic DNA chain terminators prescribed to exterminate the long-neutralized passenger virus, HIV, we had reason to celebrate.  We felt so good about our little celebrations, because they were based on evidence – not on government handouts, and because our little triumphs have lived on and cheered up – despite that global consensus that you must take toxic drugs and die because of that undetectable but “deadly” virus.  

Unlike any other cameraman I had performed for, Mike made me feel at ease even in front of his camera.  With his sharp questions, his knowledge and his wits, his camera was really more entertaining than intimidating, ever since Meditel first produced “The AIDS Catch”. 

Unfortunately he, too, succumbed to the toxic side of one drug he could not let go of.  Too sad there is no more Mike Verney Elliott to turn to in the AIDS war and no more Mike to cheer us up at meetings in Barcelona, Berlin, Berkeley and Bologna. 

Auf Wiedersehen, Mike!

Dein Freund Peter

Peter Duesberg, A Memorial Address for Michael Verney-Elliott, 1st April, 2007.

I miss Mike enormously. Most of all I miss his melodious voice and his innate kindness and generosity. I think of him at intervals throughout the day. He played a very important part in my life.

I met him in 1986 when he was a drama producer at London Weekend Television. My friend Carol Wiseman was working with Michael on a production there and she called me to say that he did nothing but talk about how the science behind AIDS was completely wrong. As a television producer making documentaries on science and medicine, she thought he and I should get together.

We fixed a lunch at Bertorelli’s and I ended up at the wrong one. We waited for each other for about an hour and finally joined up at the Charlotte Street one. Michael was fascinating. He arrived carrying a huge briefcase stuffed with scientific papers. He felt very strongly that gay men were wrongly being blamed for spreading AIDS through sex. It just didn’t add up and for two years he had set about researching the views of non conformist scientists.

The lunch lasted three hours. From that day, Michael  succeeded in leading me on an intellectual dance for the next fifteen as we two-stepped off into five network television documentaries on the subject.

He was a consummate performer, having studied at the London Academy of Music and Drama and toured Europe as Hamlet. His rich voice and exquisite diction made him the perfect narrator for the documentaries.

The first was “AIDS - the Unheard Voices” for Channel 4 which he worked on with producer Jad Adams. It won the Royal Television Society Award for Journalism the first ever to be bestowed upon and independent television production company.

Mike had an extraordinary gift with language. His wit was as acerbic as his tongue was caustic. He could come out with a one liner that you would remember for the rest of your life. For example when the row between Robert Gallo and Luc Montagnier broke out as to who had “discovered” HIV first. Mike simply said “Who care who stole the fake diamonds”.

Over the years, he developed a strong friendship with molecular biologist Peter Duesberg, who inspired our early work on the AIDS debate. Peter was always amazed at Michael’s grasp of the science and his ability to glide between the different disciplines and produce fresh and challenging perspectives.

He was a wonderful friend and companion. He dubbed us the “Bisto Kids” one day when we were out in the freezing with our noses glued to the window of a restaurant waiting for Duesberg to finish a conversation with one of his admirers.

He was always ready to advise me on matters of dress and presentation, giving me that final bit of confidence by saying “Strut your stuff and be a star darling”.

I’ll keep trying. Mike

 Joan Shenton, Mike Verney-Elliott Remembered, 25 March 2007.

                                              Being in Love

                                                                                                                            Michael Verney-Elliott in the 1990s

"Being's Name is Love.."

Alex Verney-Elliott, B & A, 2007.

"I am mortal, born to love and to suffer."

Friedrich Hölderlin (1770 - 1843).

“Love takes us where knowledge leaves off.”  

Saint Thomas Aquinas (1225 - 1274).

“Love is composed of a single soul inhabiting two bodies.”

Aristotle (384-322 BCE).

“Love is all we have, the only way that each can help the other.”

Euripides (c. 480–406 BC). 

“Augustine once said: I love you - I want you to be what you are.”

Martin Heidegger to Hannah Arendt, 1925.

“That which is done out of love always takes place beyond good and evil.”

Friedrich Nietzsche, Beyond Good & Evil, 1886.

"My little, wandering, charming soul, Guest of my flesh, companion, Where are you going now - Naked, rigid, pale, No longer laughing, being alone?"

Publius Aelius Hadrianus,  (24.1. 76 – 10.7.138 AD).

'Homecoming'

Peaks of silver shine silently above,
   And the sparkling snow is full of roses.
Still higher above the light lives the god, pure
   And holy, pleased with the divine play of light beams.
He lives there quietly and alone: his face is bright.

Down into the deep his influence extends: it
   Reveals and illumines, just as he pleases.
And now life begins again.  Gracefulness
   Flourishes as it did before, and the Spirit
Is present and approaches, and a joyful
   Disposition fills its wings.

Friedrich Hölderlin (1770-1843).

'Another day'

Another day. I follow another path,
Enter the leafing woodland, visit the spring
Or the rocks where the roses bloom
Or search from a look-out, but nowhere

Love are you to be seen in the light of day
And down the wind go the words of our once so
Beneficent conversation...

Your beloved face has gone beyond my sight,
The music of your life is dying away
Beyond my hearing and all the songs
That worked a miracle of peace once on

My heart, where are they now? It was long ago,
So long and the youth I was has aged nor is
Even the earth that smiled at me then
The same. Farewell. Live with that word always.

For the soul goes from me to return to you
Day after day and my eyes shed tears that they
Cannot look over to where you are
And see you clearly ever again.

Friedrich Hölderlin (1770-1843).

 'Annabel Lee'

 It was many and many a year ago,
          In a kingdom by the sea,
    That a maiden there lived whom you may know
          By the name of ANNABEL LEE;
    And this maiden she lived with no other thought
          Than to love and be loved by me.

    I was a child and she was a child,
          In this kingdom by the sea;
    But we loved with a love that was more than love-
          I and my Annabel Lee;
    With a love that the winged seraphs of heaven
          Coveted her and me.

    And this was the reason that, long ago,
          In this kingdom by the sea,
    A wind blew out of a cloud, chilling
          My beautiful Annabel Lee;
    So that her highborn kinsman came
          And bore her away from me,
    To shut her up in a sepulchre
          In this kingdom by the sea.

    The angels, not half so happy in heaven,
          Went envying her and me-
    Yes!- that was the reason (as all men know,
          In this kingdom by the sea)
    That the wind came out of the cloud by night,
          Chilling and killing my Annabel Lee.

    But our love it was stronger by far than the love
          Of those who were older than we-
          Of many far wiser than we-
    And neither the angels in heaven above,
          Nor the demons down under the sea,
    Can ever dissever my soul from the soul
          Of the beautiful Annabel Lee.

    For the moon never beams without bringing me dreams
          Of the beautiful Annabel Lee;
    And the stars never rise but I feel the bright eyes
          Of the beautiful Annabel Lee;
    And so, all the night-tide, I lie down by the side
    Of my darling- my darling- my life and my bride,
          In the sepulchre there by the sea,
          In her tomb by the sounding sea.

Edgar Allan Poe (1809 - 1849)

Love Poem to Marie von Tucher  

Narrow bands dividing us, fall away! 

Sacrifice alone is the heart's true way! 

I expand myself to you, as you to me. 

May what isolates us go up in fire, cease to be. 

For life is only reciprocated, 

By love in love is it alone created. 

To the kindred soul abandoned, 

The heart opens up in strength gladdened. 

Once the spirit atop free mountains has flown, 

It holds back nothing of its own. 

Living to see myself in you, and you to see yourself in me, 

In the enjoyment of celestial bliss shall we be.

 G. W. F. Hegel,  April 13th, 1811.

“Love aims at the Other; it aims at him in his frailty... To love is to fear for another, to come to the assistance of his frailty. In this frailty as in the dawn rises the Loved, who  is the Beloved. An epiphany of the Loved, the feminine is not added to an object and a Thou antecedently given or encountered in the neuter (the sole gender formal logic knows). The epiphany of the Beloved is but one with her regime of tenderness. The way of the tender consists in an extreme fragility, a vulnerability. It maintains itself at the limit of being and non-being, as a soft warmth where being dissipates into radiance, like the 'pale blush' of the nymphs in the Afternoon of a Faun, which 'leaps in the air drowsy with thick slumbers,'  dis-individualizing and relieving  itself of its own weight of being, already evanescence and swoon, flight into self in the very midst of its manifestation...The movement of the lover before this frailty of femininity, indulges in compassion, is absorbed in the complacence of the caress.”

Emmanuel Lévinas, Phenomenology of Eros; Totality & Infinity, Duquesne University Press, Pittsburgh, 1969.

“The death of the Other: a double death, for the Other is death already, and weighs upon me like an obsession with death... If death is the real, and if the real is impossible, then we are approaching the thought of the impossibility of death... Dying means: you are dead already, in an immemorial past, of a death which was not yours, which you have thus neither known nor loved, but under the threat of which you believe you are called upon to live; you await it henceforth in the future, constructing a future to make it possible at last - possible as something that will take place and will belong to the realm of experience...Loss goes with writing... Learn to think with pain... To live without a lifetime - likewise, to die forsaken by death... To write elicits such enigmatic propositions... To write is no longer to situate death in the future - the death which is always already past... To write is to know that death has taken place even though it has not been experienced.”

Maurice Blanchot, The Writing of the Disaster, University of Nebraska Press, 1995.

“He arrives - Your beauty - the beauty of the world. Your love - the beating of the universe, the loving rhythm of nature, time in harmony with the sun. In you , I behold its radiance. In you, I savour its power, I bathe in its warmth. At times, the eternal joins with the instant. We are present to each other, but between us remains eternity, while we continue to grow. How do we unite these two times?... How do I return to you?...How do I call the going beyond?... We can remain together if you do not become entirely perceptible to me, if a part of you stays in the night. Already, beauty has created a distance: a veil over us... Only love consents to a night in which I will never know you. Between those who love each other, there is a veil... I become because I recognise myself in you... With you, the world remains fluid... How do I remain in love - cultivating sun and grace?... To be silent to allow you to speak, to give birth to you. And to us, as well. To listen to the other's love.”

Luce Irigaray, Prologue - To Be Two, The Athlone Press, 2000.

“Even before the death of the other, the inscription in me of her or his mortality constitutes me. I mourn therefore I am. I am - dead from the death of the other, my relation to myself is first of all plunged into mourning, a mourning that is moreover impossible. this is what I also call the ex-appropriation, the appropriation caught in a double bind: I must and must not take the other into myself; mourning is an unfaithful fidelity if it succeeds in interiorizing the other ideally in me, that is, in not respecting his or her infinite exteriority... If death comes to the other and comes to us through the other, then the friend no longer exists except in us, between us...being-for-death... But I can have the experience of 'my own death' by relating to myself only in the impossible experience, the experience of the impossible mourning at the death of the other.  It is because I 'know' that the other is mortal that I try to keep him or her in me, in memory... being-for-death is always mediated... in the experience or in the 'non-experienceable' structure of impossible mourning.  Mourning would be more originary than my being for death.”

Jacques Derrida, Interview with Maurizio Ferraris,  Aut Aut  235, January-February 1990.

“At the conclusion of On Transience, Freud said that mourning should spontaneously cease one day, freeing the energy it consumed for other pursuits. The living and the dead might arrive at an uneasy truce, merely out of exhaustion or, perhaps, out of the transformation of grief, creating something new in memory of the departed... Freud was asked in his old age what should be the goals of a healthy, vital life. He is reported to have replied, "Lieben und Arbeiten" - to love and to work. Love had earned a clear place in Freud's estimation. He had come to see in its many forms the source of all emotions, behaviours, and actions. It was the inescapable essence of humanity... Through mourning and the triumph of human creativity over loss, the mourner finds again what has been lost within himself. In learning to give himself over to the symphony of life and death, he rediscovers himself, and so realizes the potential inherent in all beings to love and work.”

Matthew von Unwerth, Freud's Requiem - Mourning, Memory and the Invisible History of a Summer Walk,  Continuum, 2006. 

“How could one agree to speak of this friend? ... Everything we say tends to veil the one affirmation: that everything must fade and that we can remain loyal only so long as we watch over this fading movement, to which something in us that rejects all memory already belongs...What separates: what puts authentically in relation, the very abyss of relations in which lies, with simplicity, the agreement of friendly affirmation that is always maintained. We should not, by means of artifice, pretend to carry on a dialogue. What has turned away from us also turns us away from that part which was our presence, and we must learn that when speech subsides, it is not only this exigent speech that has ceased, it is the silence that it made possible and from which it returned along an insensible slope toward the anxiety of time. Undoubtedly we will still be able to follow the same paths, we can let images come, we can appeal to an absence that will imagine, by deceptive consolation, to be our own. We can, in a word, remember: without memory, without thought, it already struggles in the invisible where everything sinks back to indifference. This is thought's profound gift. It must accompany friendship into oblivion.”

Maurice Blanchot,  On the Death of Georges Bataille; Friendship,  Stanford University Press, 1997.

“Love remains a relation with the Other that turns to need, and this need still presupposes the total, transcendent exteriority of the other, of the beloved. But love also goes beyond the beloved. This is why through the face filters the obscure light coming from beyond the face, from what is not yet, from a future never future enough, more remote than the possible... Love aims at the Other; it aims at him in his frailty... The movement of the lover before this frailty of femininity, neither pure compassion nor impassiveness, indulges in compassion, is absorbed in the complacence of the caress... Love does not simply lead, by a more detoured or more direct way, toward the Thou. It is bent in another direction than that wherein one encounters the Thou... If to love is to love the love the Beloved bears me, to love is also to love oneself in love, and thus return to oneself... Love accordingly does not represent a particular case of friendship.  Love and friendship are not only felt differently; their correlative differs: friendship goes unto the Other; love seeks what does not have the structure of an existent, the infinitely future, which is to be engendered. I love fully only if the Other loves me, not because I need the recognition of the Other, but because my voluptuosity delights in his voluptuosity... The absolutely other is the Other. He and I do not form a number.”

Emmanuel Lévinas, Totality & Infinity, Duquesne University Press, Pittsburgh, 1969.

“To have a friend: to keep him. To follow him with your eyes. Still to see him when he is no longer there and to try to know, listen to him when you know that you will see him no longer - and that is to cry. To have a friend, to look at him, to follow him with your eyes, to admire him in friendship, is to no in a more intense way, already injured, always insistent, and more and more unforgettable, that one of the two of you will inevitably see the other die. One of us, each says to himself, the day will come when one of the two of us will see himself no longer seeing the other and so will carry the other within him a while longer, his eyes following without seeing, the world suspended by some unique tear, each time unique, through which everything from then on, through which the world itself - and this day will come - will come to be reflected quivering, reflecting disappearance itself: the world, the whole world, the world itself, for death takes from us not only some particular life within the world, some moment that belongs to us, but, each time, without limit, someone through whom the world, and first of all our own world, will have opened up in a both finite and infinite - mortally infinite - way... One should not develop a taste for mourning, and yet mourn we must. We must, but we must not like it - mourning, that is, mourning itself, if such a thing exists: not to like or to love through one's own tear but only through the other, and every tear is from the other, the friend, the living, as long as we ourselves are living, reminding us, in holding life, to hold on to it.”

Jacques Derrida, Jean-Marie Benoist - The Taste of Tears; The Work of Mourning, University of Chicago Press, 2001.

It has taken me time to Write about Michael like it had taken me time to Love about Michale for love like being always takes time and is always a question of time and love and being take time to come for one to become love to become being for being is love for love is being. I love Michael and Michael was Love and Love never dies and being in love never dies because being never dies. Michael was pure being because Michael was pure love because pure being is pure love and pure love is possible because pure being is possible.

Michael was the only human being I have ever met who was pure being because he was pure love and all love whereas all the other beings I have know have had a fear of love  as a fear of being so never came to being so never came to love: I call these beings as abeings: as they that are not there as those that have not come to presence - have not come to love - those that have not come to being. Abeing fear becoming being because they fear becoming love becoming in love becoming in love with being for abeings fear the touch of being which is the touch of time bringing being to presence brining being to presence through love which is the being of time and the being of being there: abeings are the not there being not there.

Michael had the shine: Michael shone: from the first time I met him to the time I saw him die he shined forth. Michael had the shine because he was true to his light as true to his being: something utterly and uniquely rare in to day’s dark and dead world of billions of a beings who do not shine and are not there: for to be there as a being in the world is to shine forth free from the fear of god free from the fear of abeings.

Michael never shone so brightly as when he was dying there before me: never had Michael looked so serene, so sweet, and so beautiful in these last few magical moments: a life times love shone through as a burst of energy and emanation of his giving spirit as if giving me more life as I took in all his energies and emanations. As beings we do not die: we become our own emanation and our sensation as a spirit that shines forever. The Dying Beauty of His Glowing Face Shined Through His Suffering as His Spirit Left His Body.  

Being with Michael dying was the most moving, mesmerizing and extraordinary experience in my life: Michael erupted a euphoric elation and incredibly intensity as if his face became on fire as a volcanic explosion of lava coming over me burning bright with light and heat glowing radiantly and never have I seen Michael look so serene and sublime and I was sharing his tender transition between the biological world and the ontological world of being becoming time from being the body.  

Sensationing Michael's being  leaving  his body like leaking lava made me realize for the first time that there was life after death: that there is being after death: a death free from the body that wears us out of being in the world. Never had I seen Michael’s face look so radiant, so beautiful so overwhelmingly warm and glowing and caring and giving: those gift that were Michael: always giving, always caring and always loving. One of Michael’s last phrases was (when looking at old photographs of himself): “I wasn’t rubbish.” One of Michael’s major faults was to under sell his worth, his value, his talents, his genius being so self effacing and hyper-critical that he always was.  And Michael being so hypercritical meant having no real friends and in that respect we were both very lucky for we had no friends only parasites.   

In hospital Michael's only interest was concern and care for me all the time: even when ill and dying Michael was kind and all giving - like he has been throughout his serene and saintly life: and Michael was a saint - albeit a dissident one, an aids dissident one; an outspoken and dangerous saint: Michael was the first one in the United Kingdom to argue that 'HIV' did not exist along with his cherished colleague and friend, the 'HIV' Heretic, Eleni Eleopoulos. A doctor out of something to say asked Michael what he did and Michael replied in a droll and dull manner that he had made aids documentaries and had interviewed Montagnier who admitted that he had never isolated HIV to which the doctor looked bewildered and perplexed not knowing what to say by saying nothing. 

Michael always argued that everything ever stated about 'HIV' was a set of false assumptions: it was always assumed 'HIV' was a virus, it was always assumed that HIV was sexually transmitted and it was always assumed that 'HIV' caused 'AIDS' and yet never any of these absurd assumptions has ever been proven yet such 'HIV' related-lies and propaganda are still propagated by our pusillanimous press. Michael argued rather that 'AIDS' caused 'HIV' - that 'AIDS' conditions caused endogenous 'HIV' expression waking up dormant so-called 'retrovirus'.

For Michael pusillanimous 'political correctness' produced 'HIV' propaganda which in turn epitomised the liberal lies of 'political correctness': 'everyone is at risk from an equal opportunities disease' - 'HIV effects us all' and yet everyone know that 'political correctness' is a liberal lie, an inverted-racism, an inverted sexism and inverted culturalism and no one really believes in it but they still ape and act out this slave morality: for 'political correctness' for Michael was a herd-instinct slave-morality and a fear of thinking freely for oneself: and Michael was the only one that I ever knew who really said what he thought without fear of the thought police.

Michael always showed constant care and concern for my well being from a morning greeting to and evening ending; always warm and radiant and loving and giving; again it was the warmth and love in his melodious voice that caressed me so closely with care and concern; an over whelming sense of being as belonging with the one that one loves and being loved became so overwhelming: with Michael I had the serene sensation of complete closeness, warmth and welcoming all the time as if he was there solely for me alone. The moment I entered the living room I felt Michael's intensity of being-love-there as a glowing geist, a warming welcoming.  

Michael’s love for me was always there every single morning when he greeted me with at melodious and warm voice of true love: “Good morning my lovely.” How I miss those tender words now no longer having  those sweet sounds: I cannot simply believe I will never hear that serene voice ever again for it was always there and has to be there still somewhere. I miss Mike’s warmth and love and company so much for he really made me feel at home; the first sense of being at home I’ve ever had because home is where love is: coming home to Michael was always the most gleeful. Joyous and happy sensation I ever had: now I have no Michael I have no home to come to.   

Michael was my image of being my I deal of being my Idol of being but I do not idolize or idealize Michael as I do not have to: Michael was an ideal being an idol of being for Michael was love and being is love: we come to be being only through love and Michael was my first love as my first being that I ever encountered.  

Looking back at looking at Michaels glowing being shining forth love made me realize I should have died with him there and then and gone away with him for after such an experience there is simple and purely nothing left to live for.

The most dreadful and devastating silence to grasp is not hearing Mike’s melodic, soft and caressing voice that haunted me so much near the end when it was fading and so soft yet somehow more poignant an powerful in its vulnerable child like innocence in its radiance and purity of presence; when he said; "I’ve always loved you – you haven’t always loved me – but you do now."  

I miss Michael’s voice so much…

Michael's voice was not merely the sound of his being but the shine of his being beaming forth: Michael had the most musical and melodious voice that I had even heard. I felt very moved by Michael’s desire to for me to retrieve his house keys and bring them in to hospital with the aid of the wheelchair that he insisted I go back home for. I felt I was betraying him when saying I could not possible just take him back home and I think he knew it but the hope to return home again was there for I promised him that he would die at home. His last spoken words were: 'go home to bye byes' and then I knew there was such a place as home for home is where love is for love is the home of being a house and a house is not a home if there is not love there no being in love there. Now Michael is not there but his love is still there as being there for me to be at home there at him there as hime there without him being there his love is still there so his being is still there even if I am not there. Where is He? Where is I?  

I miss Michael’s smile so much…

Now Michael is not there at home I am no longer there at home for being-home is being at home with the being-there that you loves: home is where being is waiting. Where two together become one being at home for at home two become one.  Michael made our home glow through his emanation, warmth and love and days after he died the our home became homesick and homeless: cold, sad, lost and dead: Michaels being had been so present, poignant and potent so real and radiant that when he went the home went with him for home is being home with the one we love: being home is being with being home where two become one being home: when one being dies the other one becomes the other none: for one and one make one love but one minus one love make none. I have always been homeless until Michael became my home and now I am at home at being at home without a house to be in for the house is always homeless always beingless for the house is where we bury the dead and where abeings abide and abode..  

I miss Michael's being so much...    

Since Michael has disappeared my life feels empty without him there and I feel I long to disappear with him and long for the die I die to be with him again: being together and being in love again and forever.  

I missed Michael's time so much...  

I Lived with an Abeing before I Lived with a Being - I Lived with the Hate before I Lived with the Love - I Lived with the Bad before I Lived with the Good - I Lived with the Fear before I Lived with the Care - I Lived in Dread before I Lived in Delight - I Lived with Sickness before I Lived with Shininess. Before I could not Return to Home, for Before I could not Return to Being for There was No home-there for There was No being-there: I lived in a no-place with a no-one where there was no presence of place only an absence of home where there was no presence of being only an absence of being and yet I always trembled at the thought of going back to the no-one at the no-there.

For years I lived with a mad man in fear and dread, resentment and evil, and it took me much time to set myself free from being trapped by terror to live with love and free from censorship and control. For years I lived with a mad man surrounded by books who wanted to be 100% Intellect but was mindless and beingless and loveless for this mad man was not there as being-there as presence-there for this mad man had no presence no being - that is no love: being-beingless being surrounded by books: being-mindless but being surrounded by books. The mad man feared the being of being and the sensation of sein and would rather have died than loved like most men.

Knowing I was loved by Mike and learning to love Mike gave me a sense of belonging and becoming a being with another being there in the world: by giving me love Mike gave me being: gave me my being back through love through being in love: for there is only being there where there is love there: no love there – no being there.

One of Mike’s most repeated questions was: “Oh Mr. Russell! What will become of us all?”  If we are beings we become time as being time – if we are abeings we become nothing because there is no shining there. Only those with the shine shine-on live-on and Mike had The Shine and shone so brightly and beautifully for his re-birth for only the body dies as being lives on shining forever for time for all time. Mr. Russell Died when Mr. Verney-Elliott Died and Died together in Love.

I miss Michael's thereing so much... 

Gallo was the Evil 'HIV' Lie Montagnier was the Evil 'HIV' Lie Fauci was the Evil 'HIV' Lie Ho was the Evil 'HIV' Lie Watney was the Evil  'HIV' Lie Campbell was the Evil 'HIV' Lie King was the Evil  'HIV' Lie and Michael fought the Evil 'HIV' Lie to the End. I always wanted to Kill those that blindly believed in the Evil 'HIV' Lie but Michael said it was far better that they should Live to see the Evil 'HIV' Lie unravel before they Die. But Abeings that believe in 'HIV' (like those that believe in 'GOD') are always already Dead for they Live a Dead Lie and become that Dead Lie. Michael even said that 'HIV' Fundamentalists Watney, King, Alcorn, and Campbell uncannily all had that identical: "gaunt, pasty, rat-faced, aidsy-look about them." - that is - the Kate Moss and Posh Spice wasted-away 'aids-look'. 

Michael was the Good and the Good is that which Gives and Michael gave his Love all His Life to Others and Gave Love to Others as ahead of Himself.

Michael was truly there to love - Michael loved me: I was Loved - I was there. Michael is still there. Love like being never dies. Love there. Being there. 

No one is there in the world now for Michael was the last being on earth that is the last love on earth that is the last there on earth  for no one is there.

After Michael went away nothing has happened - nothing new - all the same old Labour Lies, the same old 'HIV' Lies; the same old 'dumbing down' of science and culture - I realised then that Michael was missing nothing at all now as if the world ended when Michael ended as if we were really all the dead and not Michael: for we are all dead now but don't know it: we live a death-culture and live death-lies whilst the being-dead are free from lies free from fear.  

I always knew that Michael would die one day but I never knew Michael would die one day.

Where is Michael being being now? Where is the being of being-dead? Where is being Dead?

I was Loved for Michael loved me - therefore I am love - I am being.

With Michael being away a way of being as loving has come to close.

        I cannot say: Good Bye to You for I cannot say: God Be with You as God cannot be with You but Time will be with You so I say: Time Bye as Time Be with You.

        I can say: Love Bye to You as Love Be with You for Now You are All Love as all Time for Now You are all Being Love for Being Time as a Time Being Being Love.

        I do not Accept that Michael is Dead for that would be a form of Madness for to Accept Death is to Forget Being as Accepting Death is the Denial of Being Dead.

        I Know Now that I should have Died with Michael and Now wish I had Died with Michael for I Have Nothing to Live for Now but Death and Being with Michael.

        I did Die with Michael where My death Died for Michael giving Him Life to Live on ahead of My Death to Come back again to be with Him both being Dead Alive.