I fantasized all day about a movie I would make, if… If something. If I were connected to life, to myself, to this moment. If I had done the time in the little jobs that the people who make movies did. If I had done the work that a writer does to earn the right to write. If I was consumed with doing what I want—following my bliss. Instead, I am obsessed with identifying and avoiding all the things I do not want—and that list is never done.
Lucas being in america depresses me, in which Lucas asks, It’s so hard. It’s so hard and I want to give up. Am I even doing it for real? Does it even count?‘,CAPTION,’lodestar.diary-x.com’);” onmouseout=”return nd();”>is home for the holidays, apparently. I am just glad he has not been consumed by the background, like a discreet signal lost in the hiss. I want a beacon, or I want to be a beacon, maybe. No, I would chafe at the burden of being used by others for guidance, though I’d be flattered. Maybe I would be so flattered that it wouldn’t matter to me that my guidance was wavering and unreliable. Maybe I wouldn’t mind deliberately misleading them—and maybe it doesn’t really matter in the end.
The movie is a gay porn with no rubbers about a primal breach of trust in the middle of an unintended love affair, with an angel who falls from her position as a winged luminous creature to become a homeless, legless street beggar, achieving enlightenment in the process. Troy is black, age 25, he’s HIV positive and angry, he’s living in Boston and he hates the white privileged world. Jonathon is white, age 16, and uncomfortable in his rich, entitled world; he lives in Wellesley Hills, an affluent suburb of Boston. Troy is Jonathon’s first love and first lover. Jonathon is Troy’s first victim.
In the end, something precious and familiar is destroyed, while something new, precious and unknown is created. In the end it is not about fucking without rubbers, but about loving without defense or reservation. By falling in love with the rich white boy he sought to infect, Troy is transformed from an aloof aggressor, and his hatred is revealed as empty and meaningless. The naive Jonathon loses his innocence, and his illusions that Troy was the perfect first love are destroyed, and he is left with the question, “Can my love for Troy transcend his betrayal and forgive, no matter what?” At the end Jonathon is having blood drawn at a free clinic for an anonymous HIV test. We never find out the results of his test. We have to decide for ourselves about the strength of his love.
In the end it is a movie. In the end, we—and not the porn stars fucking on film—are the only ones doing it for real.