I had a dream last night about Hasan. It was the most wonderful dream. I saw that we were hugging very closely, clinging to each other, like that last day before I left. It seemed like we were hugging forever. There was nothing sexual, nothing impure about this. Just pure love. The memory of that dream carried me throughout the day. Why was the memory of this boy so deeply imprinted in me? Granted, we did meet and love each other during the most difficult time of my life; and yes, pain binds people closer together than pleasure. But so much time has passed and I still think of him.

I'm very unhappy. I work for an abusive employer. I'm trying to get out of this job. I'm so unhappy. Things like this make life seem even more random than it already seems. I'm alone in this world- ALONE!

What am I doing? What am I going to do? Where is my life going? I'm unhappy!!! UNHAPPY

Another bitter Sunday. I think I made some progress on the social phobia front: I managed to buy a magazine at the bookstore without taking off my glasses. But, my friends, I am going through life without being able to make meaningful connections with anyone. I am constantly reminded of that poem by Constantine Cavafy, 'The Walls' that, loosely translated says 'without my knowledge, they shut me outside the world'. Can you imagine dear readers, what it feels like to live in the world and at the same time feel that you've been shut out of it? You can only understand if you've been there. There was one shining moment when I truely stepped out of myself and conected to someone and that was a moment of intense light, a flood of light, an ocean of light.

Why is it that loneliness bites harder on the weekend? I was at work most of the day, among people and then went to the movies, spent 3 hours in a theater full of people and yet as I return home it hits me that I am a 35 year old gay virgin who is alone and cannot figure out where his life is heading (if anywhere). Oh well..

Is there anybody out there listening to me? I'm so alone. Starting a new job, new people, not particularly friendly, with a boss from hell, alone, unloved, ALONE! All alone.

On sad Sundays like this, when I'm reminded of the randomness and arbitrariness of life and fate, I get the mental image of Sunday afternoons at my grandmas house, where we would often go for Sunday lunch - it would often be thick spaghetti as she liked it, with meat (I don't recall what kind it was, perhaps lamb). My dad, looking back on those times, probably found the whole thing an ordeal, seeing as how he's always wanted to be alone and to be left alone. He would always sit at the side of the table, just watching everyone, rarely participating and when he did participate, I think he always appeared condescending. I think he's always been a closet case, all his life uncomfortable in his own skin, having gotten married and having had children just to conform to the norms of society, to do the 'right' thing (as if there is such a thing..).

Anyway, the light of those Sunday afternoons, the warmth, the warmth of people who had the joy of life (my grandparents), the joy of those two people who always seemed to truly love each other and get along with each other and always reached out to other people, had friends, enjoyed life. Now they're both gone, but I think while they wee here, they enjoyed being here and made the most of it.

It's amazing how, at times of sadness, we go back to happier memories and times to find consolation, especially when life is devoid of people, friends, who could help share the burden.

While watching 'Scent of a Woman' with Al Pacino, I am reminded of my friend, who retained that phrase that Pacino says at the end of the movie 'in loco parentis' when he saw it. It reminded him of the relationship, that wonderful Gay-oid, loving relationship he had with me and with his other student. You see, he didn't have children of his own, he never married (although he contemplated it once) and he saw us two as his 'adopted' children, and his role 'in loco parentis'.

I am always touched by watching father-figure/son relationships in movies. Interestingly, I am not as moved by father/son relationships - maybe because my relationship with my father has always been so crappy. We've never been close and I don't expect us ever to be. It's as if he's always had this double life inside his mind. And of course, as said, I've always believed that this double life has always revolved aroung the fact that he's probably a closet homo. He's always been grieving about...what? I'll never know for sure - but I suspect he's always been grieving about the fact that he was never fucked and never loved. I've seen how he's always responded to male figures: with submissiveness. Which means, what? That he'd like to be fucked up the ass!

I've just been watching that wonderful 1996 movie 'Great Expectations' which had a great father-figure/son relationship, that of Fin (Ethan Hawke) with De'Niro. I often cry when I watch the murder scene at the end, because it shows how the life of even the most hardened criminal can ultimately be an offering and how love often finds a way to prevail. In this scene there is evidence of a great love and a great emptying of one person's life to another person. Perhaps it's not coincidental that one man, the benefactor (De Niro) dies as the other person's life begins. I think this is a Christ-metaphor.

I am always deeply moved at that moment when De Niro lays dying and asks Fin to show him the old little sketch book and he says to him "Do you remeber this - it's very special". All his life, he's carried the kindness of little Fin's actions with him, as a kind of guiding, sustaining light in his life, as evidence that there is kindness in the world - and he feels compelled, at the end of his life, to give it back, to pay the love back - how moving...

Maybe there is something, in this world, some kindness, some true kindness.

My friend would often tell me that he had shown me love. He once recited the poet Cavafy to me and stressed the words 'the sentiments which were so little appreciated'. Was that for me? I did appreciate his kindness and attention, perhaps not enough, perhaps I wanted more, and more and more, perhaps because I've always been so starved for affection. Watching that movie now brought something else to my attention: I listened to the soundtrack of that ovie during one of the darkest periods in my life and watching hat movie again brought back to me how I've always thought that the basis of Cuaron's directing of it revolved around the concept of light and the use of light in an -according to my humble oppinon - stunning way. You will notice when you watch it that there is an amazing contrast of darkness and light, going from one to the other constantly in a stunning way and with a stunning effect - I remeber when the movie first came out, I'd read criticisms that the direction was MTV-esque. I couldn't disagree more!

Anyway, I think that listening to the soundtrack of that movie during the darkest peiod of my life was my way to try to find a ray of light or a flood of light at that time.

AND I HAVE TO SAY, I FOUND A FLOOD OF LIGHT - WAS IT REAL, WAS IT AN ILLUSION? WILL I EVER KNOW IN THIS LIFETIME?

My love, you left me then and then you came back to me. How can I make sense of it all? Who are you? what are you? Where are you? What do you expect from me? Am I on the right track? Am I becoming what you wanted me to become? Do you love me still?


That light I felt, the light that I saw, I will never forget that light.

How could she treat me like that? How could I have misread her so badly? What a wacko... I want to get the hell out of there ASAP! What a BITCH! How did I not pick that up? She might be a psychopath, for all I know.

Where is my life going? Sometimes I wish it would all end.

A beautiful Sunday afternoon, the kind that fills you with the joy of life, just walking down the street in this beautiful city, listening to music - so joyous, so beautiful, pienna di luce as it says in an aria...with It in my ears, in my mind, in my soul, speaking to me. Trying to make sense of everything, myself, the world, my role, my role in life.

Yesterday I really fucked up - I was called in my bosses office to discuss and, again, as usual, I lost control, I started wanting to look at her legs. I have social anxiety, I just can't relax when I need to talk to people, especially when they are physically close to me.

And that hunk next to me at the office - I think he's starting to realize that I find him attractive. I need to find a way to overcome my anxiety around people. Perhaps I should go to a professional. There are drugs effective for social anxiety (benzodiazepines etc.). I think I need to find the strength and resolution to go - I've already made positie changes in my life and need to make more to become normal, to lead a more normal and fulfilling and ultimately happy life. I think I deserve this. I think everyone does.

As I was walking to my new job today, showered by the bright sun and the blue sky, I kept hearing this music, this wonderful, brilliant music in my mind, that accompanied the fuck scene with Matt Lattanzi and Jacqueline Bisset from the 80's movie 'Rich and Famous'. But I could hear that music in my head so clearly and so wonderfully, that I had the urge to burst into tears, just like last summer at Freedom square in Heraklio. where I had to step aside from the book fair so people wouldn't see the tears rolling down my eyes because of the beauty and sadness I was feeling inside. What is it that I feel when I feel this way? What is the nature of this unspeakable beauty?