 February 2, 2006 Not a terribly productive day. Went to the open house of my niece and nephew at St. Irenaeus school. I was a little stoned at the time. A friend smoked me out earlier. I didn't put up much of a resistance and it would be something of a stretch to say I was peer pressured. Other than that I went to the movies with my friend Ray, who had free tickets. We saw "Underworld: Evolution". Vampires, Werewolves. Preposterous of course. Thankfully there were few people in the theater and, pushing up about 4 arm rests, I sprawled out on the seats as if I was on a couch at home. I was quite stoned and still am. To my delight my friend Chris, a movie projectionist, called me today and said the art house where he works will be showing Brokeback Mountain on the 13th and Ang Lee and the cast will be there for a Q & A. I really hope I can go. Anyway, to launch into rhapsodic prose, I'm a whirl of absurdity, wisdom, raw feeling, emptiness, guilt, and crazed wishfulness and frivolity. Blah, blah; I wish I was a boy again. Right now I'm listening to the oldies classic "The Last Kiss". I desire to communicate to you the randomness of things as they appear to me right now, and also the lack of threat which I feel from this apparent gratuitousness and weirdness. I think I owe this blurb I just wrote to just having read Aldous Huxley's famous essay on mescaline, "The Doors of Perception." By the way, I hope you like the picture of Heath and Jake posted above. Hug a pillow and imagine your life at this moment is as nice as that movie still- the shot of two anguished, confused characters, desperately in love and sharing a moment of release from social pressure. They look happier than what mescaline can do for you, but as I've never taken the drug, this is just my educated guess. Don't get too depressed over how messed up we all are. As St. Paul said "God consigned all men to disobedience, that he might have mercy upon ALL." And as the dying protagonist says at the end of Bernanos' "Diary of a Country Priest", "grace is everywhere." Yes, perhaps it is so universal as to be available even to stoners, doo wop addicts, unemployed losers, young men with wasted talent and potential, and last of all, fanatical partisans of "Brokeback Mountain". In other words, there is a chance even for this little freakish contortion of humanity-- ME, to joyously walk down the path to salvation. Anyway, good night my lonely and lovely friends. Long live beauty and hope. Let's hope my future diary entries will not be as rambling and disjointed as this one. Meow. February 6, 2006 WARNING: I wrote this in a super depressed mood. (proceed with caution) I hate my life. Whatever positive stuff I wrote in my last entry appears now as froth. I have little real desire to do something reckless like try to kill myself (though it crosses my mind- a lot), to sleep around, to buy cocaine, etc. I'm just tired of being so miserable and always having a mocking, humiliating knowledge that things just are not the way they should be. To live lacking inhibition, totally honest and transparent-- that would be utterly impossible for me. It would be a martyrdom. Secrets and miseries are in this soul of mine which are best kept out of the twinkling, shimmering spectacle of polite and proper society. We are all of us a bunch of fuck ups. I'm sick of it. Where did this idea of happiness, beauty, God, and love come from? How did this conception arise in this absurd and ugly farce of a world? How did meaning pop up in this sea of meaninglessness? Truly, it is a thing that haunts us- meaning, just as surely as meaning's absence. God, have pity on your poor, suffering creatures. Nobody seems to really love other people. We just have fleeting moods or feelings of love which are sentimental and fluffy. That's my experience, anyway. You can chalk up the majority of my virtue to cowardice or sloth. I'm trying to end the rant. Pray for me, you people out there. I may be no more fucked up than anyone else, but I am fucked up, and it hurts. I know I'm middle class, white, spoiled, etc, etc, etc, but it hurts so much to be me sometimes that I want to take all the pills in my medicine cabinet, hmmm.. all 150 or so of them, and down them. If no one found me soon enough I'd be dead for sure. I will not do this thing, I promise. I am not that much of a jerk. But it hurts like hell to have to go through life just thinking about doing those things, fantasizing about suicide, for heaven's sake. Its a degradation. Does anyone out there understand me? February 7, 2006 Well, tomorrow I must start distributing fliers about the talk which James Alison will give on being gay and Christian. I hope it will go well, and people will let me put up fliers with no hassle. I hope I can eventually get a crowd assimilated for this thing. It really is important, I think. Please, prayers are needed. I can't demand prayers, merely ask for them. James is simply the best voice I know of on matters gay and spiritual. He's the best shot we have at moving forward. That's my subjective opinion, but I've looked around quite a bit. Trust me a little. PLEASE PRAY FOR US TO HELP MAKE THIS HAPPEN. Suicidal, fucked up fool I may be, but I'm well read in Christian theology and I've thought about these matters obsessively for a few years now. PRAY WITH ME THAT PEOPLE WILL COME, JAMES WILL SPEAK TO US, AND THE HOLY SPIRIT OF LOVE WILL HELP HEAL US. February 9, 2006 Gee whillickers, folks. I got an e-mail from my ex-boyfriend last night. He wants me to take his last name off the little blurb I've written on him in my "Friends and Family" section. It might get in the way of his game, or something. I'll do that for him. But I think his last name pops up in a few other places on my site-- in my online journals, I think-- and I don't want to devote all the time it would take to find and eliminate those passages. Honestly, I was happy to hear from him. Our relationship was just an experiment that didn't work in the end. Nothing to be bitter about. I think Damian is going to do great things in his life, and when he reaches the level of accomplishment appropriate to him, I will pray for him, that he will have peace with himself and others and that God will guide him. The thing I always liked about Damian was his love of life. I hope that always stays with him. He just need s to keep his ego in check and think more of the suffering of other people, as we all do. So there, I'm not mentioning his last name, but such are my thoughts on my ex. Yesterday was a good day, which the day before it was not. It really felt like God was giving me a few breaks. Examples. 1. Francine called and told me she'd be picking me up later so we could go distribute fliers (for James Alison) in Long Beach. This we did. 2. I got my w-2 form from Janray home care, which I had just called them about the other day. 3. My sister showed me a flier that says Cypress College (our local JC) will have a month abroad program in Guanajuato, Mexico. I've been to that city before. I'd love to go back and try to work on my Spanish. So that was yesterday. Today I spent mostly with Raymond. After I watched a John Wayne movie at home (part of my ongoing education in the Western genre to help me understand Brokeback Mountain; ultimately to help me write about it) I took Raymond to get his diabetes meds at the doctor's office in Long Beach. We smoked a fair amount of weed today, had a hamburger lunch and watched the "Exorcism of Emily Rose". It was so funny, because I have been passionately uncertain about whether I have seen that damn movie or not. Now I know I've definitely seen it, though I must have been extremely stoned at the time. I must have been with Damian S. (remember- my old boyfriend has no last name; at least not on this webpage). Anyway, I feel pleasant now, from the caffeine, from the tranquilizer pill, and from the lingering marijuana high. God forgive me for being such a self-indulgent guy. Do not blow out a smoldering wick. Do not break a bruised reed. Your yoke is easy, your burden light. You came that we might have joy in full. I could never be a puritan. I'd simply like my own small seat at the banquet. Take the hellfire from beneath my little gay ass. Have mercy on us. February 16, 2006 Ah, nothing like that nice empty feeling that comes after masturbation. That with a pleasant tinge of guilt. I even had to play a little doo wop music to make myself feel decent again. You know, me masturbating to porn is not an incredibly big deal. Neither is my dependence on prescription meds (though it potentialy could be). Perhaps the biggest threat is that I'll simply do nothing with my life. I'll not kill myself, but I'll not do anything brave or beautiful either. I'll just be luke warm, worthy of little more than being spit out of the mouth of the Supreme Being, as it says in the Book of the Apocalypse. Perhaps God finds me to be just as boring as I often find him. I don't know what to say. I know some of my friends read this stuff. Hey there friends! It's Brian contacting you through the cyber-ethereal realm. Um, I often have had the thought, and this will be my theological "gem" for you this evening, that the two worst possibilities are that either A. God does not exist, or B. that he does exist, but that he does not love us. Just think about it. Pretty scary. A real Scylla and Charybdis (forgive my obscure refrerence, all of you who have had the good fortune not to read Homer- actually, he's not half-bad; just a bit slow) But if neither A nor B are true then we are in on something very, very, attractive and cool. A good deal, folks! Something worth more than being luke-warm about. Something so fantastic and real and grand and spacious and lovely- that the fact that I masturbated tonight does not really matter all that much in the scheme of things. It's all capable of passing backward under the bridge of humble regret, as we flow forward into the future of brilliant possibilities. It's so hard to believe, I know. The pain of life is mostly so overpowering that words do not come easily which can describe it. And saying words to describe the happy things in life can be just as hard. But why, after all, have I carried on for ten years during which I have struggled with clinical depression? Good Lord. Doesn't that mean that welling up from deep inside of me there has been a freedom and a joy and a confidence which I can only call a gift from God. I don't know which I do more, inspired jackass that I am, scandalize people or comfort them with the things I do or say. I try to be as honest as possible in this diary. Make the most of it, readers. It is for whoever of you out there who needs to know how another heart beats. Goodnight. February 19, 2006 Wow. So much has happened. I've got a real headache. James Alison came and went. It was great. All the stress of that is now over. Thanks be to God that people showed up and heard the message of such a talented guy with such generosity- a real teacher. And wow, me and a certain someone are kind of becoming boyfriends.. at least I think or hope. Been partying with my friends for 24 hours almost. I hope that's not too decadent. I have much to be thankful for. I hope I don't push it with God. It's funny- At Francine's place I saw they posted up on their fridge a little drawing and note I made when I was stoned, sitting by myself in their apartment a week or two ago. It said next to a weird face: I will proudly go down as a Fool. Brian Gonsalves Feb 2006. It touched me that someone thought it interesting enough to save. I leave no further testimony of myself than that. I was a fool, which all in all is not the worst thing to be. My conscience is clearer than some would have it, but maybe there's a place in heaven for fools like me too. I trust heaven is a cool place, because as the Bible says "strength and beauty are in his sanctuary.", Psalm 96, verse 6 February 22, 2006 Bad day. Bad Night. Perhaps I'm off to bed soon. No thoughts to share with you guys out there. Sweet dreams, dear fellow humans. February 27, 2006 Well, I've been in a slump lately. Bad depression- just trudging further, step by step. Personal romantic life derailed and non-existent. By the way (and this is going to be a kind of long "by the way") I'm rather disappointed to learn that much of the country is reacting to "Brokeback Mountain" with snickering and juvenile humor. Incidentally, one of the many rumors I've heard about Michael Moore is that he once told an audience in some foreign land that Americans are the most stupid people on the planet. Correction! We are far from stupid. If we were stupid we wouldn't control half the world. What we are is, well, largely a bunch of cowards. Sure it takes some bravery to subjugate your fellow human beings across the globe, but it takes still more bravery to make oneself vulnerable to abuse by tyrants, to open oneself up to new ideas, and to become a seeker of justice. And now to my point. Most of us seem simply to lack the courage, and to be honest, the love, to take "Brokeback Mountain" seriously. Neither the right nor the left have demonized it with the vitriol which polluted national discourse during the marketing of "The Last Temptation of Christ", "The Passion of the Christ" and most recently "Fahrenheit 9-11". Worse than that, however, we have dismissed Brokeback with sophomoric ridicule- mockery. "Brokeback Mountain" is a gritty film about the course which real love takes in the harshness of the real world. People who are dedicated to the art of cinema have lavished it with praise, something quite appropriate because it is an extraordinary film. But I am not impressed by the overall reaction to the film by the public. People are not burning down theaters or staging mass protests- perhaps even that would be more appropriate because it would render justice to the magnitude of Brokeback's importance; but I sense instead a callousness and ultimate indifference toward the movie which is truly disturbing. Now a certain kind of indifference is not inappropriate because Brokeback is not essentially, I think, about some big agenda. It is not about advocating gay marriage and adoption and so on. It is not about an orchestrated homosexualization of our culture by the "liberal elite", something which couldn't be a threat in the first place if the right-wing is correct in saying that gays are much less numerous than Kinseys famous 10%. "Brokeback Mountain", from my vantage point, is merely about giving dignity and respect to people who have suffered deeply, and get this, loved one another. And it is precisely that depiction of passionate, struggling humanity which makes laughing at "Brokeback Mountain" nearly as unfunny as the numerous hair-brained films (like "The Pink Panther") which we Americans are opting to go see instead. For all of you right-wing spin-meisters out there, "Brokeback Mountain" as a political vehicle for gays to conquer the world is mostly a product of your vain imaginations- admit it- I dare you to tell the truth. Gays will never conquer the world. If people really want to debate the validity of gay marriage I have no problem with that. It is a complex issue and if people want to talk about it like adults that is fine and good. If people deny hospital visitation rights to someone's gay partner of twenty years, on the other hand- that shows nothing more than a deficit in one's basic humanity. It is that kind of insensitivity, a cruel worldliness, that I hear echoed in the ignorant laughter of my fellow Americans. I found it very upsetting to hear people snicker and laugh during some of Heath Ledger's most powerful scenes in this great film. To hear such astounding expressions of pain, loneliness, and frustrated love giggled at- that is nearly as tragic as the film itself. America is a beautiful, though imperfect, country which I actually do love. And so my love, let me end my rant with this- the joke isn't funny anymore. Either shut up about something you know nothing about, or go see the movie, watch it with the quiet attention it deserves, and say something heartfelt and intelligent afterwards. Admittedly, I have not seen Steve Martin's take on the Pink Panther; but if one person who has ignorantly put down "Brokeback Mountain" actually goes out and sees it, do inform me and I will see Steve Martin's flick (which was painful enough for me to watch in the extended preview I was exposed to). Not that he wasn't good as the SNL King Tut thirty years ago --- I'm Out! February 28, 2006 I'm kind of in a limbo state. Apparently, limbo is not theologically viable anymore- so said the official Vatican commision-- but I'm definitely suspended in some sort of in between state, some fuzzy middle ground, something not especially desireable, but not nearly as terrifying as many of the other realities which perhaps goaded me into seeking refuge in this pathetic realm. Stop. Did that last sentence make any sense? Who cares? According to my ex-boyfriend it's only numbers that matter; all else is rhetoric. I'm tempted to concur, but I suspect his soul is frequently as lonely and unsure of its convictions as mine. Anyway, all I did today was go to the video store, return some movies, and then talk about mental illness, specifically my depression, with JR and the head of the psych department at Cypress College. To be honest, she intimidates me. A psychotherapist, an ex-alcoholic, and apparently negative on the subject of religion. I'd hate to bring shame upon my church by letting a fierce ex-alcoholic know that I, a pious believer of sorts, am a continuing casual drug user. Interestingly, I've decided to give up casual drug use for Lent. No more fricken weed! Please, no more fricken weed! Then I can actually apply for a job, take a drug test, pass, and make money. With money comes increased freedom to fulfil life plans such as traveling to Mexico to work on my Spanish language skills. Well, its getting late. I should finally mention that I watched a movie called "Tea and Sympathy". Very good, complex, and touching. Its about a sissy boy at an all boys school and his relationship with one of the wives of a faculty member. They didn't mention homosexuality in reference to the young man. It could be read that way if you wanted to. Bottom line it was very touching and sensitive. Adios motherfuckers!
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