I’ve kept journals since the day after high school graduation. This means 20 years worth of journals. 20 years of my life. I have them all and I go back to them from time to time just to see what was going on for me on certain dates/times in my life and how I was feeling/expressing myself. Sometimes it can be painful to read. Other times it can be funny and even affirming on how far I’ve grown as a person. For some reason, I was curisous to see if I had an entry on this date back several years. I did. The following was written by me on November 26th 1991… I think the picture is from about that same time. As is often the case I don’t really remember what I am writing about.

“Ah, what a day. I attended a new age workshop with ______ which was focused on finding your inner voice. I found it, but I didn’t really care for what it had to say. As I fell deeper into mediation I continued to ask for strenght in my journey for inner peace and love. As I started to feel this sensation of floating and my lungs filled with the burning incense I sort of received an image of a computer screen which had a message across the screen in red letters spelling out “Help” …I pulled myself out of the trance (or whatever it is you want to call it) I felt really uneasy, spaced and sad. Sort of like that feeling I used to experience as I was coming down from dusted pot when I was a kid. The hippie lady who was leading us came over to me and asked if I was OK and I told her that I was afraid to relax. Afraid to let go. I told her that I was afraid that if I did I might fall into a space that would either be like oblivion or insanity.

The group just sort of ended the session and all attention was suddenly focused on me, but I guess the several hours of “work” we had been doing made me feel comfortable to continue the conversation with the lady in front of the others. I told her that I just wanted to be happy. That while I would like very much to find love, I can’t seem to fathom finding that and settling for sex with just one person for the rest of my life. I continued on telling her that I knew I was too slutty, but that ____ feels this is the only way we can connect as gay men and liberate the world. I felt like crying.

But, then the hippie lady leaned forward touching her forehead to mine and said, “Matty, sometimes a cigar is just a cigar”
Then she got up and asked everyone to go back into our relazed and meditative states. I have no idea what she meant by that. Not sure I even want to know. One thing is for sure —- I will not be going back to that place again. And I told _____ that he can go without me next time.

You know, I think the world might be a better place if someone just told Enya and Enigma to stop it.”

….well, there you have it me at 25 exactly 14 years ago. The guy who’s name I’ve replaced with blanks is no longer with us. I miss him. This was back in the day when someone who had AIDS could be fine one day and then be walking death within a week. This is what happened to ______. He used to tell me that if he were not sick he would show me complete and full love, but I do remember thinking that I was unsure of what he meant by that. I do not remember the workshop that I wrote about, but I will never forget him. …Putting on a brave face all the time and searching for answers in New Age concepts because that was really all he had to grab on to for hope.

Wow — didn’t mean for this to be so heavy. Was really just a little experiement to see where my head was at on this date at some point in the past. Well, that is where it was.

I do think my observation regarding Enya and Enigma might still hold water. …so to speak.

November 25, 2005. Uncategorized.


  1. Robert replied:

    I’m glad that you’ve kept writing Matt! Hope you had a wonderful Thanksgiving sweetie!

  2. digitic replied:

    Heh … coming from the Left Coast what you wrote about all seems to make sense to me — relaxed and meditative space, working out deep rooted feelings in a trance-like state, floating computers screens, burning incense (patchouli?), listening to Enya and Enigma (and believe it or not, I still have CDs from both), and not having any concrete answers for the questions of the lives we’re living and finding that in many cases not having an answer is okay.

    The days when men going to facial spas were unheard of, when quiche was still an issue, when we all were looking forward to Clinton being president and thought that Bush Sr. was the epitome of hitting the bottom of the political barrel.

    Man, the “good old days” — though they weren’t always that good.

    It’s good to look back and be retrospective and see how one’s grown. Keep in mind that fourteen years is a long time for an ant but nothing for a Sequoia and, yeah, sometimes a cigar is really just a cigar.

    Ohhh! Time for hula!

  3. Karyn replied:

    You don’t…remember…that seminar. Ok Matt, my memory is crap too but come on! I had one “hypnotic” session where we had to imagine walking through a series of doors and going down stairs and you could visualize whatever surroundings you wanted, and eventually after your umpteenth level down and the last door, you were to say out loud where you were…. I was in the color green. WTF? xoxo

  4. Tim replied:

    Wow, that reminds me, I haven’t read any of my old journals for years …. I started keeping one in school, and carried on until at least after I gratuated from university. I might dig those out on a rainy day some time. They’re bloody depressing though. Oh yeah, aand you look like you’re about to go to a Smiths concert in that picture, the way you’re holding those flowers!!

  5. joe replied:

    matt, that was like a blog post before blogs. I wonder what you think now of peering into that depth. the orinoco depth.

  6. joe replied:

    oh, and sluttiness is all relative.. relatively easy. 😛

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