I didna know the cause of Brainard's death but the suspicious physical indications, as the narrative proceeds, then yes HIV, wasting disease, hard to read. my father died an entirely different way, but in fact, cause of death the same: pneumonia. I'm reading Kerouac's journals, which relate in a way to Brainard. an artistic intensity, really wound up. but his word counts get oppressive. that's the economics of it, each word has a possible price, if only they were the right words. which Brainard was less concerned about, that money function (he turned down some lucrative jobs that were too too). tho he did apply for grants, and he sold his work, which is to say he worked that angle even if he wasn't 'good with money'. I wonder how Brainard's art 'does' nowadays. I suppose his poetry is minor, not saying much but I don't think I've ever seen a book by him. but he's there, I mean here. Kerouac is a bestseller no doubt. they both suffered for their art, if that can be said without hauling up Hollywood's sweat about artists. they both had, were subsumed by, that level of seriousness. not just serious but belief in--can I say this?--the antics. of scrabbling and full doubt and scrambling, and on, with the future oddly nearby, the past perhaps nearer, and is there really a present?