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.